“He was not a good man.” Catherine’s definitive. “That’s the one thing we all agree on.”
“Does that mean he deserved to die?”
Both of them say a firmyesat the same time.
“Well, guess what? It’s worse than that.”
“How?” asks Catherine.
“Because I lose either way. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Not saving him makes me a murderer, but…not killing him makes me a coward. If I really loved you, and if I really loved Gabriel, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But I still planned it. I’m capable of evil. Iamevil, even if I didn’t put a bullet through his heart or stab him with a needle. I’m just not evil enough to be trusted to—to protect—”
“Listen to me.” Catherine takes my hand in hers. “Trying to make me marry someone against my will was messed up, but it sounds like Dad was even worse to you.” The corners of her mouth turn down. “I was so mad at you for leaving us and starting that bakery. I wanted—” Tears come to her eyes. “I wanted you to take me with you.”
More tears slide down my cheeks. “I would have, if I could. But you were minors. I couldn’t fight him for you. And the things he wanted me to do…the things I did…”
“I’m sorry.” Catherine squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry for how clueless I was. I should’ve helped you.”
“He wanted me to be a murderer, and he got what he wanted.”
“Yeah, right.” There’s fire in Lydia’s eyes. “Are you kidding? He wanted you to be an asshole, just like him. He didn’t want you to care about other people. Look at you, Elise. You care so much. You even care abouthim,and he doesn’t deserve it. If you turned out like he wanted, you wouldn’t even think about it.”
Catherine nods. “He was wrong. But it doesn’t matter what he thought about you, Elise. It only matters what we think. And we’re sisters.”
“Sisters.” Lydia puts her hands over Catherine’s.
“Sisters,” I agree. “No matter what.”
17
GABRIEL
We’reat Mason’s nine days, maybe ten. It’s the longest I’ve stayed with him since I moved out. I’d fully convinced myself that leaving was best for all of us. I wasso surethat keeping my distance,notcaring about my siblings, was the right thing to do.
It wasn’t.
Even if I didn’t know that intellectually, my body does. After Mason drives us home from the FBI offices—Jesus, those bastards—everything just…shuts down. For several days, I can’t stay awake. That’s a neat trick. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.
And I don’t want to.
I need to be around them so much that I can’t bring myself to leave the living room. Mason and Jameson and Remy take turns sitting with me.
It feels weird as fuck to let them help me with everything and tuck me under blankets and bring me food. I don’t do that. I haven’t done thatever.I’m the one who helps them, not the other way around.
Iwasthe one.
And then, once I’ve had some real sleep for the first time in fourteen years, my body realizes two things.
First, that there’s no more armor between me and the world. I’m just a soft, exposed thing with my heart on display.
Second, my parents are dead.
I never felt it quite this way before. I don’t remember breaking down about it. Not once. When would I have? There was always an emergency, and then there was the long project of making sure we were never so desperate again. I cry in every room of Mason’s penthouse. It’s mortifying. Most of all when I burst into tears duringThe Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Driftand Nate—Nate—pats my shoulder and says, “It’s okay, big guy. The Drift King isn’t embarrassed to drive a Nissan.”
Feeling all of it is exhausting, but it’s freeing. And surprising, to realize I don’t actually mind being touched by them. I don’t need perfect clothes twenty-four hours a day.
In addition to all this, I try my absolute best to give Elise what she needs. At first, I think that’s space, and I don’t push her. Oh, I kiss her. I tell her I love her. I fold her in my arms whenever I see her. But I let her have her privacy.
Charlotte’s the one who tells me that she’s not getting any better. That her best friend is drifting even farther out of reach.