Put Me Back Together(92)

He didn’t know. For all these years he hadn’t had any idea. Even though I’d told him that day that Tommy wasn’t Ricky, my words hadn’t gotten through to him, or he’d really believed I was lying, or maybe he’d blocked them out. Whatever the reason, I’d shocked him. I heard him breathing hard above me as he tried to work it out and I turned my heard slightly, eyeing that fallen branch.

If he would only move his knee…

He said, “But you—”

“You want to know why I turned on you, Brandon?” I interrupted. “You want to know why I told the court all those lies?”

He seemed to have forgotten what he’d been about to do. The knife dangled in his fingers as he stared down at me. I couldn’t exactly see, but I thought his mouth was hanging open.

“I said what I did because when you killed Tommy Wesley you broke my heart,” I cried.

I would never know if Brandon Tomko had ever really loved me, or if he’d just thought he did. But I knew in that moment that the idea of killing for me, like some deranged chivalrous knight, was the thing he cherished most of all. I knew this because it was the reason Tommy Wesley died. And it was also the thing that saved me.

As Brandon’s body sagged under the weight of my confession, he fell back, lifting his weight off of me. I saw my chance. Scrambling out from underneath him, I sprang forward and dug my thumbs into his eye sockets, making him scream. I was screaming, too. He tried to swipe at me with his arms, but I darted out of his reach and ran for the broken tree branch.

“You’re lying,” Brandon cried, slashing the air with his knife. His eyes were running with blood, but he rose up onto his knees, getting ready to come after me. “You stupid, lying bitch! I don’t believe a word of it. You’re a liar!”

“No, I’m not,” I said, and I swung the tree branch, just like a bat, right into his head.



There weren’t many people left in the hallway, but they all parted to let me pass. Their gasps swept around me as I spotted Lucas standing with a group of other students from his class. I watched him turn, his curious expression changing to shock as he took in the sight of me, soaking wet, dripping blood.

“K-Katie,” Lucas choked out as I reached him. His hands moved automatically to the bloody mess of my face, but he hesitated, seemingly unsure of how to touch me without hurting me.

I gazed up into those beautiful, honey-coloured eyes I’d thought I would never see again.

Lucas.

“It’s over,” I said, and I could see all the questions crowding his mind.

There would be time for them later. Right now there was only one thing I wanted. “Kiss me,” I said, raising my face to his.

I knew he really loved me when, even though I was covered in blood, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips to mine.





23





After the sirens and the ambulance and the police with all their questions, after the paramedics checking me over and dodging the reporters and telling the whole story to Lucas, after showering away the blood and crying in Lucas’s arms and sitting for an hour numbly staring at nothing, I picked up the phone to call my parents. It was a short conversation. I told them I was fine, that Brandon was back in custody and would likely be facing time in prison. And I told them we needed to talk.

“What is it, Kaitlyn?” my dad said, his voice taking on a particular timbre that implied this was a moment he’d been expecting. That was a surprise.

My mother, on the other hand, seemed only to inflate with accusatory alarm. “Talk about what? What else could there possibly be to talk about? What did you do?” she demanded. Mom could always be counted upon to be consistent.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” I said, my eyes lifting to Lucas’s face. He was sitting right next to me, holding my hand. Without him there I might not have been able to get out the rest. “I’ll explain everything.”

I ended the call and stared down at the phone in my hand. Why was it that even though I’d faced Brandon, even though I’d fought for my life and won, I still felt like the worst was yet to come?

“After you do this, it’ll be finished,” Lucas said. “You’ll be able to put it all behind you.” He ran a finger across my jaw, careful to avoid the bandage covering my cheek, and tipped up my chin. “You can do this, Katie.”

“I know I can,” I answered, “because you’re coming with me.”



We left Kingston at ten a.m. and, due to the time change, even though we’d flown seven hours total with a connection in Toronto, it was still early afternoon when we walked up the winding driveway to my parents’ house. I pretended not to notice Lucas’s gaping stare as we walked up the front steps—it was a big house. Not mansion big, but pretty grand nonetheless. It was one detail that hadn’t come up in any of our conversations about my past. Being a little rich girl wasn’t something I liked to gush about.

As we stood in front of the enormous wooden double doors I noticed that Lucas looked a little green and stopped myself from ringing the bell.

“Are you going to puke?” I asked him. I sort of wanted him to say yes because I was feeling pretty pukey myself. Misery loves company.

Lucas swallowed, steadying himself against the wall of the house. “No,” he said. Then, with less confidence: “Maybe.”