Wish You Were Gone(83)

“Hunter, please.” She dumped coffee into the filter and went to fill the pot. “I don’t need any more tragedy right now. At least put on a white baseball cap.”

“I don’t have a white baseball cap.”

“There are about a hundred of them in the basement. Have your pick.” She gestured vaguely in that direction.

Hunter didn’t move. Emma finished setting up the coffeemaker, then hit the button. When she turned around, he was chewing slowly, looking off toward the hallway to the basement.

“Hunter, can I ask you a question?” Emma said.

“You just did,” he joked, an old standby.

“Hilarious,” she said flatly. “Seriously, though, do you have any idea what happened to the Derek Jeter bat?”

“What happened to it? What do you mean?” he asked. He wrapped up the rest of his protein bar and shoved it in his pocket.

“It’s not downstairs,” she said. “Did you or Kelsey do something with it?”

“What, like hide it?” he snapped.

“What? No! I just thought you guys might have been playing with it—”

“We’re not five, Mom.”

He was putting in his earbuds, zipping up his sweatshirt.

“Hunter, I know. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said as he started to turn away. “Hunter, I’m talking to you!”

“What, Mom?” He tipped his face toward the sky briefly, as if fed up. “I have to go for my run before all the cars are out.”

“Forget it.” She was blushing angrily, and felt embarrassed by his dismissal of her. “Forget I said anything.”

Hunter blew out another, audible sigh. “I don’t know where the Jeter bat is. Maybe Dad brought it into the office. He kept going on about that door prize thing, remember? He needed something to give away at that stupid party the night he died? Maybe it was that.”

“No. He donated a jersey. Evan Longoria,” she said, feeling like she was on autopilot.

“Well, maybe he decided to add the bat at the last minute.”

“Okay, but why would he have donated something he’d already bequeathed elsewhere?” she asked.

“Hell if I know, Mom.” Hunter began backing toward the foyer, palms turned up facetiously. “Why the fuck did Dad do anything?”





KELSEY


One second, it wasn’t happening, and then all at once, it was. One second she was walking to history class, and then people were jogging toward her and past her, looking over their shoulders—scattering. Someone whispered Hunter’s name and then Kelsey was moving against the current, running toward whatever it was they were fleeing from. She heard shouting. Hunter, shouting. Around the corner, into the senior hallway, just as a girl yelped and a slam sounded, so loud it reverberated through Kelsey’s teeth.

“Oh my God, your brother’s hulking out.”

Two freshman girls hovered nearby, one filming with her phone, the other clutching her books. Up ahead, a crowd. And in the center, there was Hunter, with his fist impossibly imbedded in a locker door, blood dripping on the floor. Willow, of all people, cowered in front of him. His fist was right next to her face. Her posture was cowering, but she gazed at him defiantly.

“What did you do to him?” Kelsey demanded. She grabbed her brother’s arm and gingerly tugged on it, detaching flesh from metal. The gashes were deep, the skin peeled back. When he saw it, he went green and staggered sideways a step.

“Oh, that’s classic, Kelsey. He tries to punch me in the face and you blame me?” Willow’s voice was shrill, not her own, and Kelsey could tell that she was trying not to cry. “Always blame the woman!”

She threw her arms up, performing for the gathered crowd, the poised phones. Then she turned around and jogged out the back door, shoving it open so hard with the heel of her hand that it slammed back against the outer brick wall.

The crowd began to disperse.

“What the hell happened?” she asked her brother, who was now cradling his arm against his chest, blood dripping down under his shirtsleeve. “Did you really try to punch her?”

“No! I would never do that. I wasn’t aiming for her face. I didn’t… She was just talking all this shit about Dad. Like out of nowhere. And then I didn’t even realize what I was doing and I punched the locker.” He sucked in air past his teeth. “Shit. Kelsey.”

One look in his eyes told her what he was thinking. This was the kind of shit their dad did. Intimidating them. Scaring them. Almost hitting them. It was a special kind of terror, never knowing if or when the switch would flip. Not knowing whether today was the day he’d choose to cross that line.

Hunter didn’t want to be like him. Neither did Kelsey. But maybe it was too late.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the nurse.”

She put her arm around him as the bell rang, and together they walked through the empty halls, little sister, for once, taking care of big brother.





GRAY


There were about a million things to do. Arguments to be written. Settlements to file. The budget for the firm’s holiday party to be approved. Dante and Derek’s birthday was coming up, so there was that trip to plan. There were appointments to be made. Notes to go over for the next council meeting. Emails to answer. Bills to be paid.