I'd Give Anything(57)

When Trevor didn’t shift his gaze or say a word, I said, more loudly, “Trevor,” willing him to look at me, which he did.

“Ginny—” he began.

“No, it’s okay. I should get going anyway.” The ice in Daniel’s voice stunned me.

“Wait, why?” I said to Daniel. “Don’t leave.”

But he had set down the plate and towel and was already walking toward the door, grabbing his jacket off the hatstand without slowing down.

“I’ll see you at the dog park tomorrow,” I said. I could hear the pleading note in my voice.

Daniel gave me a quick, unreadable glance. “I hope so.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, I turned on Trevor.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I said.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he said. “What exactly is your relationship with that guy?”

I kept my voice as steady as I could, but if Avery hadn’t been home, I would have been shouting at the top of my lungs. “Oh, what? All of a sudden you’re the protective big brother? That’s such bullshit, Trevor.”

“Well, obviously, you need someone to call you out on your own bad judgment,” said Trevor.

I’d never known what people meant when they said “I saw red,” but I understood now. Filtered through anger, the world darkened, and I felt the adrenaline pumping through my body.

“You have no right to speak to me like that,” I said. “I’m an adult. And my marriage is over. If I want to get involved with someone new, it’s none of your business.”

“What are you thinking? Of all the people you could’ve found now that you’ve finally gotten rid of Harris?”

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to leave now.”

Trevor’s eyes widened. “Oh my God,” he said. “You don’t know.”

“Know what?” I said.

Trevor’s entire posture changed; his shoulders dropped, and he said, in a quiet voice, “Can we sit down and talk?”

“No,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “I want you to leave.”

He sighed. “Ginny. I’m sorry. Please.”

Trevor’s tone was gentle, but it didn’t reassure me. Instead, I felt a pang of fear. Slowly, I lowered myself onto the seat of the light green chair. I could feel the damp spot through the skirt of my dress. Trevor sat down at the end of the couch.

“That guy, Ginny,” he said, in the same kind voice. “That’s the Daniel who set the fire.”

For at least ten seconds, my brain wouldn’t work; the gears just froze. When it started up again, I said, slowly, “You can’t be talking about the LM school fire.”

Trevor ran his hand through his hair. “Yes. I’m sorry, Ginny. But that’s him.”

I shook my head and kept shaking it. “No.”

“Daniel York. That’s his name, right?”

“Stop it,” I said.

“Did you never see a picture of him? It wasn’t in the paper or anything, but I know that once the word got out that he’d been seen hanging around the groundskeeper’s shed, people at LM got his high school yearbook photo and made copies and started passing them around. Remember?”

Vaguely, I remembered photos taped up around school, but I couldn’t remember the boy’s face.

“When it became clear that the cops weren’t going to arrest him, some people even posted them around his neighborhood,” said Trevor.

Even though he was sitting right in front of me, Trevor’s voice in my ears was faint, as if it were coming from a long way away.

“That’s horrible,” I murmured.

“It’s horrible to burn down a school,” said Trevor. “That’s him. The guy who was here tonight is the same guy, all grown up, who was in that old photo. Ginny, he killed Gray’s dad.”

With this last sentence, Trevor’s voice stopped being far away. That sentence slammed into me with the force of a blow.

“Shut up!” I hissed. “How dare you?”

Trevor fell back against the couch cushions, surprised. “Ginny!”

I stood up, my fists clenched. I had never wanted to hit someone as much as I wanted to hit my brother at that moment.

“You of all people know he didn’t do it.”

“Why me of all people?” said Trevor. “What are you talking about?”

To my disgust, tears filled my eyes. I bit out the words: “I. Heard. You.”

“What?”

“I. Heard. You. Tell. Mom.”

I watched as understanding edged out confusion on my brother’s face. His jaw dropped.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “Oh my God.”

“Get out! Get out of my house.”

“All these years,” said Trevor. “You thought it was me. You thought I did it.”

“Leave.”

Trevor stood up and moved toward me. I felt that if he touched me, laid one single hand on me, I would crack right down the middle.

“Get away from me,” I said.

Trevor began talking fast, the words tumbling out. “Ginny, listen to me. I didn’t do it. I just told Mom that because I hated her so much. I just— I wanted to shove it in her face that she would never be through cleaning up my messes. She thought I was such a bad kid, such a disappointment. I wanted her to be afraid of me, to think I was capable of anything.”