The Edge of Everything (Untitled #1)(89)

Her father was twisting the auger furiously. The hole was growing. Zoe tried to squash every bit of sympathy, but she couldn’t. He looked like a man digging his own grave.

“I ran from Stan, not from you,” he said suddenly.

He threw down the auger, and walked toward her.

“I grew up with him, did you know that?” he said.

His eyes were wild. It was Zoe who stepped backward this time.

“Yes,” she said. “Mom told me.”

“Did she tell you he was like a virus?” he said. “That he—that he—that he was hateful and merciless and—and—lonely even when he was a kid? Did she tell you how he polluted everything? When we were kids, he did things—we did things—that I’ll never forgive myself for. I left Virginia because of him. Married your mother. Changed my name. Changed my heart. Truly. I mean, look, to be honest, you changed my heart—you and Jonah and your mom. You can laugh, if you want.”

Zoe knew she was supposed to say something comforting. She said nothing. She made her face blank.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

More texts from Jonah. It had to be.

“I spent almost—what—twenty years looking over my shoulder,” her father said. “I was terrified Stan would find me. You don’t just walk away from someone like that. They won’t accept it. They’re—they’re—feeding on you. But I got away from Stan. I tried to be a dad. Tried to forgive myself. Tried to make some goddamn money so we could—so we could at least freakin’ live. You all used to laugh at my schemes, but every time I was away—every time I was on the road, every time I ‘disappeared’—I was trying to get something going. I’m not smart like you, Zoe. No—don’t make that face, it’s okay—I’m just not. I mean, look at me. But I tried every legitimate, law-abiding thing I could think of. You think I wanted your mom to work as hard as she did? Be careful who you fall in love with, Zoe. You’ve got a big, big heart. Don’t waste it like your mother wasted hers on me.”

Her father stopped talking as abruptly as he’d started. He picked the auger off the ice once more and began drilling, desperate to do something with his hands.

“Why did you freak out about Bert and Betty?” said Zoe. “You never loved them like the rest of us did. You barely knew them—because you were never around. So why do you care what happened to them?”

Her father seemed not to have heard her.

“Twenty years I looked over my shoulder,” he said.

“You said that already,” said Zoe. “Answer my question.”

But it was as if her father were talking to himself now.

“I was so careful,” he said. “Because I knew Stan would never stop looking for me.”

Zoe’s phone buzzed again, jittery as a bomb. She was about to read Jonah’s texts when something caught her attention out on the edge of the lake: the ice had begun to change.

Color was seeping in. It was darker than the time with Stan—more red than orange—and it spread slowly, like a sickness.

Her father was too obsessed with his hole to notice.

“But you can’t hide forever, can you?” he said. “I mean, you found me here. And this place—this place isn’t just off the grid, it’s never even heard of the freakin’ grid.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “So Stan found me. Tracked me down in Montana. And he saw, in two seconds, how desperate I was. How broke I was. How ashamed I was of just years and years and years of failure. I mean, I was good in a cave, but—let’s face it—I was always pretty useless aboveground.”

Zoe looked back to the hill.

X and Ripper were sweeping down it now. Ripper’s dark hair was swept up in a bun. Her bare neck was glinting.

Zoe’s father still hadn’t seen them.

“Why did you freak out about the Wallaces?” she said again. “Answer my question.”

X and Ripper came to the bottom of the hill, and, as if they’d planned it, leaped simultaneously over the reeds. They were close now. The red tide beneath the ice was just a few steps ahead of them, like a carpet unfurling.

“Answer my question!” Zoe shouted.

But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even look at her. He had to finish his story—he had to purge himself of it—just as he had to finish the hole that was opening at his feet.

“Stan had a couple of ideas for making money,” her father said. “They weren’t dangerous, they weren’t going to hurt anybody, but—I’m not gonna lie—they weren’t exactly legal. The first one worked and then the second one worked. Having a little money was amazing. Thrilling. I can’t even describe it. I bought Jonah that ladybug bed, even though he was too old for the thing. Remember? Then, the third time around, somebody did get hurt. An innocent person, I mean. She didn’t get hurt bad, but still. Stan called it ‘acceptable collateral damage.’”

Her father was still crying. He twisted the auger so hard it was as if he were punishing himself.

Zoe was crying now, too.

“Answer my question,” she said.

“Stan eventually ran out of ideas for making money,” her father said. “He told me it was my turn to think of something.”

Zoe was shaking again. She couldn’t control it. It was taking over her body like the red stain was taking over the ice.