“Hey,” I croak out as Brynn springs back to her own cushion. My mouth is desert-dry all of a sudden, my head is pounding, and my muscles ache. It’s like all the abuse I’ve been putting my body through for the past week has finally caught up with me. “What are you doing?”
“What is she doing, is the question,” Shane says, lifting his chin toward Brynn.
“I came to apologize,” Brynn says, tucking a leg beneath her. I didn’t even have a chance to notice that she was practically in my lap until she was already gone. “About the show. And to let Tripp know that I quit. I’m not working for Motive anymore.”
“Good for you. If that’s even true,” Shane says, crossing his arms. His face is like a mask, his expression cold and forbidding. How much did he hear? “Still doesn’t explain why you’re here when my girlfriend told you to leave.”
“It’s my fault,” I say. My mind might be sluggish, but I feel pretty confident in that statement. Most things are my fault.
“I was just going,” Brynn says, getting to her feet. She turns to me. “I think you should come with me, Tripp. Your dad will be worried.”
“His dad’s at work,” Shane replies before I can. “Tripp is fine where he is. Charlotte and I are looking out for him, so how about you mind your own fucking business?”
“Hey,” I start, but Brynn is already speaking.
“Is it looking out for him to leave him by himself with a fully stocked bar?” she asks, sweeping her arm toward a side table covered with liquor bottles.
“He wanted to be alone,” Shane says, jaw twitching.
I blink, and for a second I see the Shane of four years ago, smaller but still one of the biggest kids in our class, his eyes empty and his hands covered in blood. All I did was pick it up. All this time, I thought I was using Shane as a shield for my father. It never occurred to me that it might be the other way around, and I still can’t wrap my brain around that. He’s being a dick right now, sure, but he’s still my friend.
Isn’t he?
“That’s not the most important part of what I said,” Brynn snaps.
“You have a lot of opinions for someone who shouldn’t be here,” Shane says, advancing toward her with a menacing look in his eye. Brynn takes an involuntary step back, and I finally manage to heave myself to my feet beside her.
“Leave her alone, Shane. She’s just trying to help.”
“You’re whipped, T,” Shane says scornfully. “She’s using you.”
“I’m not—you have no idea what you’re talking about.” If only. That would’ve been a much better way to drown my sorrows. “Look, thanks for coming to find me today. And giving me some space to crash. But…” I was about to say Brynn’s right, but that’ll just set him off again. “I need to get home. I have to talk to my dad.”
Good thing Shane doesn’t have Brynn’s magical truth-serum abilities, because that was a lie. I mean, I have to talk to my father eventually, but…I don’t even know where to start. Our relationship underwent a massive shift
four years ago, then shifted back within the past five minutes, and he doesn’t know about any of it.
“And say what?” Shane asks.
His voice is challenging. How much did he hear? I still can’t tell. “Just check in,” I say. “He’s been worried.”
Shane lifts his eyebrows. “And you suddenly care because…?”
Because he’s not a murderer. Surprise! Maybe you are, though?
No. That’s nuts. Just because Dad didn’t kill Mr. Larkin doesn’t mean Shane did. I’m overtired, and if I stay here any longer, I’m going to start saying some of this stuff out loud.
“I’m heading out,” I say. “Tell Charlotte I said thanks—”
And then, with a few quick steps, Shane is right in my face, fists curled at his sides. We’re almost exactly the same size, except I’m a little taller and he’s a little bulkier. I don’t know who would win in a fight, because we’ve never fought.
“Seriously?” I ask.
“You’re forgetting who your friends are,” Shane says in a low voice. “No, I’m not. I just have more than two friends.”
“We took you in when nobody gave a crap about you,” Shane hisses.
“You took me in?” I’d laugh if he didn’t look so pissed. “I’m not an orphan.”
His lip curls. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Stop!” a commanding voice calls from the doorway. Shane steps away before my brain can process his last comment and tell the rest of me, Yeah, let’s hit him for that. Charlotte strides forward, and I should thank her, because if I’d taken a swing at Shane, he’d probably have kicked my ass. But she glares at me before I can say a word. “I see you’ve picked your side,” she says icily.
I rub my aching temple. “There’s not a side, Charlotte.”
She lets out a sound that’s too polite to be called a snort. More like a hmmph. “There’s always a side. And she needs to get off my property,” she adds without looking at Brynn.
“I’m going.” Brynn heads to the door, clearly happy for the cue.
I don’t want to leave like this, but I’m starting to think there’s not going to be a better way, especially after this night of revelations. For a second, when Shane and I were staring one another down, I was seized with a sudden, paranoid certainty that he wouldn’t let me leave.
“Thanks for everything,” I mumble as I pass them.
Charlotte gives another elegant huff. “See you next time you fall apart.”
Brynn doesn’t say anything until we’re at the gate. “Wow,” she whispers when I unlatch it and we step through. “That was a lot.” I don’t reply, and she adds with a backward look over her shoulder, “Do you think Shane heard us?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “My car’s in the—”
Before she can finish, I trip over a root and go flying. Brynn tries to grab my arm and keep me from falling, but all she manages to do is go down with me. “Ow.” She winces, rolls to one side, and springs into a crouch. I just lie there, though, too disoriented to move.
“Remind me not to take you along the next time I want to make a quick getaway,” she says, and holds out her hand before adding, “Come on. I know you need rest, but not here.”
I grasp her palm and sit up, but tug her closer before she can pull me the rest of the way to my feet. “Hey,” I say. “Thank you. Seriously. I’m not
—I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to averagely thank you for what you did for me tonight.”
She raises her brows. “Averagely?” “Yes.”
“Do you mean adequately?”
“I’m trying to have a moment, Brynn,” I grumble.
Her eyes twinkle. “Maybe you shouldn’t have it in Charlotte’s yard, though.”
“Okay. Fine.” I get to my feet, still holding on to her hand. “Just know that I am very grateful. I’m bursting with so much gratitude, I could kiss you.”
Brynn freezes, eyes wide. Oh. Right. I might’ve—no, I definitely told her I used to be in love with her, so it’s possible she thinks I mean that I literally want to kiss her. It’s also possible I do mean that.
She recovers with a wry smile. “Sober up first, okay?” she says. “Then we’ll talk.”
