Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(37)

Alex! Alex! The exact details of his face may be slipping away, but I’ll never forget the sound of his voice the first time he said my name. He was sitting in his high chair, Cheerios stuck to his chin. He beamed at me, and Mom gasped with wonder and pride. The memory causes a sharp pain to grow in my chest, as though a knife protrudes from the inside, and I blink rapidly. One of the loons stares back at me, drifting close enough to the shore that I can see the droplets glistening on its black feathers.

“Tell me about them,” Forgiveness says. He’s asked before, without success, but something has changed. This time I don’t lash out. I don’t try to get a rise out of him or push him away. Instead I do it. I talk. About my father’s booming laugh, my mother’s gentle hands, my brother’s first steps. All the while the loon draws nearer, as if it wants to hear, too.

When I’m out of breath, out of words, Forgiveness continues to look at me instead of the bird. I don’t look back at him, but I can feel the weight of his gaze. “You have Saul and Missy. You haven’t lost everything,” he tells me gently. It doesn’t matter; the words could be made of air and they would still feel like fists.

“When you say things like that, it’s just a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

I get up, sand sticking to my clothes. Forgiveness remains seated and tilts his head back. “That you really aren’t human, no matter how easy it is to forget,” I tell him.

Briana starts toward me but gets waylaid by one of Billy’s friends, Dylan. Even with the wind in my ears, I can hear the slur in his voice. I turn around so they can’t see my face. This is the part of the night when I should walk away, or shift gears, or end the conversation. Yet I don’t move. Why do I stay, when every part of me insists I should go?

Because I always stay.

Now Forgiveness stands, his white T-shirt flapping against his torso. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my cheek again. Maybe he’s more human than I thought. Heartbeats. Lungs. Those are for the living. Aren’t they?

No, not always. Because I have them.

The Choice bends to say the words directly into my ear. “You can blame it on Nate Foster, you can blame it on my kind, and you can even blame yourself. But none of it will bring them back.”

Missy said almost the exact same thing once. My jaw works, and the knife isn’t stabbing now—it’s tearing through me. My soul bleeds. “Don’t you think I know that?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

“Do you?” He waits, but this time I’m the one who doesn’t respond. I cross my arms as a weak shield against the wind. Behind us, the bonfire crackles in a desperate attempt to remain bright and burning. Seconds pass, and the only ones who speak are my friends, their conversations empty and light. Their universes are planets of homework and routine and somedays. Someone is yodeling.

“You can’t trust him,” Forgiveness says suddenly. There’s no need to clarify who he means, but he does anyway. “Revenge has been among us longer than anyone realizes. The Count of Monte Cristo isn’t entirely fiction. And he was at the center of the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre. He was there at the beginning of the War of the Roses, and when the Roman Empire—”

I feel my nostrils flare. “I get it, okay? He’s selfish and impulsive and dangerous. But he’s not as bad as you think. He’s my … ” I stop, start again. “He’ll always be there for me, no matter what I choose.”

At this, Forgiveness falters. He never falters. I know I’m not going to like what he’s about to say. For a moment I think about bolting. But then he’s opening his mouth, and words are coming out, and it’s too late to escape them. “The thing about choices is that they only exist as long as there’s one to make,” he says slowly.

Briana has managed to disentangle herself from Dylan and is coming toward the shore again. She’s smiling, and the space between us shrinks. Forgiveness and I are out of time. Though I want to see his eyes when he answers, I focus on the loon while I force myself to ask, “What are you saying? That you’ll vanish the instant I choose one of you?”

Again he hesitates, and I swallow the hysterical scream that wants to demand the truth right now. More seconds tick by, marked by the teeth-grinding silence. Just as I’m about to let the scream out—damn whoever hears—Forgiveness sighs. “Essentially, yes,” he says, his tone reluctant. He rakes a hand through his dark hair. Is that regret in his expression?

I don’t have a chance to find out; Briana is nearly upon us, and I finally turn to her. But Forgiveness isn’t done. “Unlike Emotions, we are only allowed near a human before and during the summons. Afterwards, we’re gone. It’s just the way things are.” The words should be hard, absolute, yet there’s a shadow of imploring in them.

I don’t—can’t—acknowledge it. All I can do is think, Revenge didn’t tell me that. No, he lied to me. He said … he said … what did he say, exactly?

I’ll be here when you need me, and I’ll help you get what you want.

I will never give up on you.

When you’ve really made your choice, I’ll know, and that’s the moment I’m free to touch you.

But each of those statements could apply to the choice itself. Revenge never actually promised to stay with me once the choice was made. Suddenly everything has a new, darker meaning. Why do you want to kiss me? He never responded. Well, I have my answer now. Best friend? No. Revenge? Yes. That’s what he is, that’s what he’s always been. I was an idiot to let myself believe otherwise. Once I make this impossible decision—even if I choose him—he’ll leave my life forever.