Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(55)

“Forgiveness?” I clarify, trying to ignore the strange sensation in my chest, like my heart has become a rope in a game of tug-of-war. “Revenge, he wasn’t even there for me. He was there for my—”

“I have never met anyone so blind.” Revenge finally meets my eyes, and I almost flinch. In all the time I’ve known him, he hasn’t looked at me that way before.

“What are you—”

He utters a short laugh, a humorless sound. We’re directly under the bulb, and it casts blocky shadows over his features. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me, do you? You have no idea. I’m Revenge, Alex. I’m supposed to thirst for blood and pain and destruction. But even when I distance myself from you, even when I’m on the other side of the world, all I can think about are your lips. What they would feel like. What they would taste like. Do you understand now? Do you see how wrong this is?”

Surprise and Disbelief are the first to arrive. One laces his fingers through mine while the other wraps her arm around my waist. My mouth opens and closes like a fish that’s been yanked out of the water and struggles for air. “I-I didn’t … ”

“There’s a reason humans aren’t supposed to see us,” Revenge snaps, cutting me off. He swings away as though the sight of me is abhorrent. “To prevent things like this from happening.” He runs a hand through his wild hair. No gel. “I shouldn’t feel guilt over doing what comes naturally to me,” he adds, gripping the edge of the closet door with white

fingers.

The Emotions are still here, still touching me, and it takes a moment for his words register. “Wait, guilt? For what?” I shrug them off and reach for Revenge’s shoulder without thinking.

He steps back, and my hand limply falls to my side. “Never mind,” he says through his teeth. His fists keep clenching and unclenching, clenching and unclenching. He concentrates on a picture on the wall—a framed image of a horse that Mom gave me—as if it holds some deeper meaning for him.

Maybe it does. Remembering the phone, I glance down at it. The grainy face of the woman, frozen in passion, stares back. “If … if this is about the picture, I’m going to do something with it. Really. I just haven’t had—”

“This isn’t about the damn picture, Alex.”

Before I can ask anything else, Disbelief speaks, startling both of us. “You can’t really be jealous,” she states. She raises her golden brows at Revenge. “Not you. Not with this … ” The Emotion trails off, examining me skeptically like there must be something she missed.

“Don’t you dare insult her.”

“But—”

Revenge says something else that I don’t hear; I’m still mulling over what he first spat at me. You have no idea what you’ve done to me, do you? All I can think about are your lips. Do you see how wrong this is? It’s what I’ve been hoping for. It’s what I’ve been wanting. But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. The moment wasn’t meant to be marred by anger or resistance. I may not be a girl who daydreams about getting flowers or some happily-ever-after … but I did imagine it being more.

Still, he feels the same way. He’s here. Even if he’ll be gone soon, that doesn’t mean—

My room is empty.

Revenge, Surprise, Disbelief, they’re all gone. I look at the place where he stood for what feels like hours. Angus shatters the stillness with a knock. I blink, and suddenly the need to move consumes me again. My first instinct is to go to Briana’s, as it usually is when something happens that doesn’t make sense or I can’t carry the weight of it on my own. I knock a sloppy good night back to Angus and hurry to pull on a hoodie. Missy is watching TV in the living room and I can hear Saul down in the shop.

“Mind if I go to Briana’s?” I ask in a rush, the words tripping over each other to get out of my mouth. Missy presses mute on the remote, hesitating. We both know I don’t deserve to go anywhere. “Please,” I whisper.

My aunt must see something off in my expression, because she nods. Grabbing my keys off the hook by the door, I run down the stairs to my wrecked car. I blink, and suddenly I’m already at Briana’s house.

The outside lightbulb hasn’t been replaced in months, so it takes a few seconds in the darkness for me to discern that her father’s and brother’s cars are gone. It’s just Briana and Francis. I get out, not bothering to take the keys with me, and go up to the door. Slam the side of my fist into the screen. Bam-bam-bam. There’s the faint sound of voices within. As I listen, they get louder. Then the door flies open and Briana comes out, her appearance oddly haphazard. “Alex, it’s not a good time,” she says, trying to walk me back to the car. Her palm is clammy against my elbow. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Worry walks with us. I crane my neck to look back.

She waves a hand dismissively, the gesture forced. There’s a bead of sweat sliding down the side of her neck. “Nothing. Mom’s just having an episode. I can handle it.”

From the house I hear Francis thunder, “Where are my cigarettes?” A moment later she appears, wearing a frayed robe and no shoes as she stomps outside. Her eyes are red-rimmed and it’s obvious she’s been drinking. Briana hurries to her side, murmuring soothing nothings, and Francis swings at her. Briana ducks just in time.