Split(79)

He drops out of the truck but only to lean back against it, his head bowed, his free arm wrapped around his body and tucked under his biceps. He tries to free the hand in my grip but I refuse to let him go. “I never wanted you to find out.”

“I don’t believe it was your fault.”

He shakes his head. “How can you say that?”

“You tried to kill yourself. You”—my gaze darts to the angry scar on his neck—“shot yourself in the neck.”

“Yeah, I . . . I don’t remember that. I don’t remember any of it because . . .” He lifts his chin and his gray eyes glisten. His eyebrows pinch together and he blinks slowly. “I wasn’t there.”

“Gage.” The single name reverberates in the air around us, sending goose bumps racing up my legs, down my arms, and across my neck.

His chin drops. “Gage,” he whispers.

“Tell me what he did, Lucas.” I squeeze his hand, encouraging him to trust me.

“You read the news reports. That’s all I know.” His head rolls on his shoulders. “Only Gage knows the truth.”

There wasn’t a single mention of Lucas’s psychiatric oddity in any of the articles I read. They all make Lucas out to be a loner, a decent student, a loving brother who neighbors said was always caring for his younger siblings. There was no mention of dissociative identity disorder. Matter of fact, according to published reports, Lucas passed all his psych evaluations and lie detector tests.

“Can’t you just ask him?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t communicate with that . . . side . . . of me. I can’t reach him.”

“So you’ll never really know what happened that day.”

His lifts his gaze. “No. When I was arrested, the entire time I was locked up, during the trial, he never surfaced. Not even once.” His expression twists in agony as if the helplessness, the being left in the dark, is eating him alive. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Everyone died except me.” He has no idea what happened that day, has to live with the fact that he could be responsible for the death of his siblings.

Gage might not be able to tell Lucas what happened; my guess is he wouldn’t want him to know in order to protect him.

But he can tell me.

I can get the truth from Gage and release Lucas of the pain of not knowing the truth of what happened that day.

“He protects me; he’s always protected me, regardless of the cost.”

“Then why, why would he murder your siblings? They were younger than you, right? They weren’t hurting you, but . . .” I swallow, terrified to bring up the inevitable. “Your momma, she hurt you, Lucas.”

He nods again and his shoulders slump. “I’m afraid, I’m afraid that my brothers and sister got caught up in the cross fire, and that . . . that would be my fault. Gage protected me, but it was my job to protect them and I failed.” He sets cold gray eyes on me. “Don’t you see? Even if I didn’t pull the trigger, and I very well could have, I didn’t protect them and they’re dead because of me.”

“Don’t do that, Lucas. Don’t put this on yourself.”

His body stiffens and he glares up at me. “Don’t put this on myself? How can you say that? It’s all on me. Gage is me! Who he hurts, I hurt!” His eyelids flicker and the rage building in his voice makes me step back. “He came and protected me, but he didn’t protect them!” Jaw tight, he punches a fist into his chest so hard it thumps. “Me! I didn’t protect them!” His shoulders tense and he breathes heavy through flared nostrils. “So stop saying it wasn’t me!”

The pain in his voice constricts my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you doing this, Shyann?” His voice cracks. “Why couldn’t you just stay away?”

“I—”

“Why!”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .” I whisper it over and over and receive no reply. I avert my eyes to the ground like a submissive dog trying to gain favor. I can hear his heavy breathing slow to calm and slowly I peek up at him. “Lucas, I’m only trying to help—” A gasp shoots from my lips and I desperately try to school my expression. “Gage.”





GAGE


This bitch is gonna die.

Right f*cking now.

I rub circles into the tight muscles of my aching neck and lean back against the bed of Luke’s truck. Keeping my eyes on the nosy whore staring back at me, a slow grin crawls across my face.

“Hey, Shy. Ann.” I straighten and take a step toward her. “Just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”

Her icy-blue eyes widen. I can practically scent her fear. My strong Shyann is finally afraid. My blood pumps with excitement. I take another step toward her.

She holds up a hand and I smirk at the way her fingers tremble. “Hang on, Gage, just . . . hear me out.”

I slide my head back and forth, then snap my eyes to hers. “Warned you plenty.” I tilt my head. “Never listened.”

“Let me explain—”

“Sick of hearin’ your voice.”

The column of her throat bobs with a thick swallow. “Gage . . .” My name shakes on her lips.