Trust(84)

The local reporters used the same shitty old photo from last time when they reported on the attack, bless them. I continued to avoid any news or social media. Maybe I’d start new accounts next year, give being normal a chance once all of the crazy calmed down.

School had been a bit hysterical with the news for a while. Hang, Carrie, and Sophia had taken turns at the hospital with me, and then visiting me at home. Bringing me frequent updates and flowers from John. Mom had known better than to confiscate my phone, so he and I had been able to talk whenever we wanted. When I got back to school, he and Anders played bodyguard, making sure nobody jostled me or got in my face.

Eventually everything went back to the way it had been before. People still gave me curious looks in the hallways sometimes, but whatever.

Dillon had disappeared. The cops said it looked like John’s parents’ place had been cleaned out, abandoned. It might have been tough for John to accept for a while, but I hope his brother stayed gone. His mom had phoned me in tears, apologizing for her eldest son while thanking me for protecting her youngest. Both of his parents had been down while I’d been in the hospital and resting, so I didn’t get to meet them in person. We were thinking of maybe taking a road trip to visit them once school finished.

Meanwhile, our study date . . .

From over on the living room couch, Mom gave us a look. Matt’s arm was tight around her shoulders, a bridal magazine open in her lap. I waved and she gave me a small shake of the head before turning back to the Christmas special on TV. At least she didn’t glare at John. Maybe the time of year had softened her some, I don’t know. I’d turned eighteen a few weeks ago, and it seemed like she’d dialled down on the anger since then. It might have been due to John giving me a friendship ring. The platinum and diamond band had blown my mind and given Mom a mild panic attack. I secretly think John enjoyed that. He’d assured me he still had funds to pay for his landscape certification program and getting set up down in Berkley when the time came.

“How do you think it ends?” I asked, biting the end of a pen.

“How does it end?”

“Yeah.”

“You want us to break up?”

“No! Of course not.” I grabbed his hand, holding on tight. “I was just wondering.”

Heavy sigh. “You’re thinking spontaneous combustion or death by random chicken attack, aren’t you? That sort of thing?”

“Something like that. Though it would take a lot of chickens.” I frowned. “Of course we’ll die tragically, each reaching for the other.”

“Right.”

“While getting pecked to death.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Well, I don’t know about it being a good time. But it would certainly be dramatic.”

With a line between his brows, he shook his head. “Think we’ve had enough drama.”

I just smiled. For a while we sat in silence.

“I love you, you know?” he said.

I smiled. “I know. I love you too.”

“And it doesn’t end, Edie,” he answered eventually. “It keeps going. If we want it to.”

“I want it to.”

He nodded like it was decided.

Because it was.