53
Dad, Davy, Marion, and Seth are standing around the kitchen counter, eating pizza. They look up when I come in. Seth has questions in his eyes, but I know he’ll wait until I’m ready. He won’t push.
He’s so good to me. He has been for years now. Why couldn’t I see that before? Because everything that happened when we were little kids blinded me to it? Because I thought someone like him could never love someone like me? Or is it because I didn’t think I deserved it?
I’m not all that hungry, but I haven’t eaten all day, so I grab a slice of pizza and take a bite. Conversation resumes; something about Marion’s school starting, Seth saying they could redo a bedroom in their apartment in the city so she could stay with them.
When we’ve finished eating, Dad clears his throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you kids.”
We wait. Seth and Marion look uncertain, like they aren’t sure they should be here.
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
I blink. That’s the last thing I was expecting him to say. “Really?”
“I didn’t want to say anything before I…knew. And I know the timing is terrible.” He’s silent for a long moment. “But I met her through work, and she’s quite, ah—I like her,” he finishes. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel anything for anyone again. But now I think maybe—maybe I can.”
He’s clearly flustered, his face turning pink. I’ve never seen him like this before.
Even though Dad isn’t a hugger, I go over and hug him.
He stiffens, then hugs me back. “I’m happy for you, Dad.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
Across from us, Davy nods.
Soon afterward, Dad goes off to bed. Davy does the same a little while later. He gives me a hug and then he and Marion head upstairs. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him Marion needs to sleep in Fiona’s room, but I let it go.
Then it’s just Seth and me in my kitchen, looking at each other over an empty pizza box.
“I can go—” he starts at the same time I say, “You can stay.”
His ghost of a smile. He looks as tired as I feel.
Then he takes a deep breath. “I need to apologize.”
I look at him. “For?”
“Kendall’s my cousin. We lived in the same house. It did occur to me that someone in my family could have been involved, especially after we found out about that money. I even thought Kendall might have known something at some point, the way she was so eager to ‘help’ us, how she was one of the only ones who knew we were going to Philly…but then she was supposed to be in the city the night before we left, and she was with us when we were being shot at in the woods…but I should have seen past that. I should have known.”
I shake my head. “I’m the one who should apologize.”
His brow furrows.
I inhale. “You were right. I was shutting you out. I don’t think I really believed you did it, but at some point I started to wonder if you might be covering up for someone in your family. If I’d just trusted you—maybe we’d have figured out it was Kendall sooner. Our whole life it’s been you versus us. I guess that’s a hard pattern to break.”
His eyes are intent on mine. “Yeah. I guess it is.” His face hardens. “My uncle knew. He knew it was Kendall and was covering for her. He would have let you take the fall. I’m never going to forgive him for that. And if they cut me off”—he lifts his shoulders—“I’ve got my grandma’s money, but even if they find a way to keep that from me, too—I’ll survive.”
Something Kendall said comes to me: Powerful men don’t get that way by playing fair.
Seth rubs a hand over his face. “My dad knew about the affair. Both affairs, I mean—he knew my uncle had been with your mom and then your sister. He thought maybe my uncle had paid someone to—to kill Fiona…but when Thatcher died, it threw him. He didn’t think my uncle would kill his own son. But he swears he had no idea about Kendall until my uncle confided in him a couple days ago, the day I overheard them.” He exhales. “I don’t know what to believe. But at least Kendall can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
I know that. But it doesn’t make things okay. Fiona is dead and Thatcher is dead and even if Kendall is punished to the fullest extent of the law, it won’t bring them back.
Tears spill onto my cheeks. And then Seth’s thumb is on my face, brushing them away. Through my tears I can’t be sure, but his eyes look shiny, too.
I haven’t let what he said right before we thought we were going to die enter my head. But now I let it in.
Remember when I said I still didn’t know what I love?
I lied.
It’s you. It’s always been you.
“I meant what I said, you know,” Seth says quietly.
I almost laugh. How does he do that? Read my mind that way?
But I have to let him off the hook. “It’s okay. People say all kinds of things in life-and-death situations. I mean, I guess they do. It’s not like I’ve ever been in one before—”
“What part of I meant what I said do you not understand?” He frowns at me.
For once, I’m speechless.
“I’m not expecting you to say it back,” he adds. His hand is still on my arm, warm against my skin. “I just wanted you to know. Even if you don’t feel that way, even if you never want to see or speak to me again, if you want to put all of this behind you, even me—I’d understand. And it wouldn’t change the way I feel.”