All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(75)

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Well, it’s an honor for our family. You are a local legend. A hero. And, of course, I mean, now that—” The pause in her speech was tiny, barely a hiccup, and she picked up so smoothly I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been on high alert. “Now that you and Austin are dating, we’ll have to have you over more often.”

“Really?” Jake said. It was the first word he’d spoken in almost half an hour.

“Jake,” Debra said, a tiny flush above her cheekbones the only sign of trouble. “Of course. We’d love to have Vie over whenever he wants.”

“Why can’t Eva come?”

“Eva is also welcome here. But tonight—”

“I don’t get it,” Jake said, cutting through her words. “Why can’t my girlfriend come to dinner when his boyfriend—” The word was soaked with contempt. “—gets to come?”

The blush had deepened and spread across Debra’s cheeks. Her perfect French manicure nails blanched as she gripped her glass. “Jake, you know Eva is always welcome, but tonight was the first time for Vie to meet the family, and I didn’t want—”

“You didn’t want anybody to see this faggot in our house. Oh, sorry. This pair of faggots.”

At the moment, I thought it felt like someone had fired a gun, but the reality is that it wasn’t like that at all. It was, in retrospect, what I think a hanging must feel like: there’s the sound of the rope snapping taut, like a little hum, and maybe a soft scrape, maybe a muffled choke, but all the sounds are quiet, and they still cut through every other noise. That’s how it was. Jake didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even look at us. He just . . . said it.

“Apologize,” Debra said. The broken bird was back in her voice, flapping for control. “Right now.”

“Fuck that.” Jake tossed his napkin onto the table and kicked back his chair. Its crash against the hutch was the first loud noise of the evening, and it made me jump.

“Don,” Debra said.

Rubbing his eyes, Don said, “Jake, listen to your—”

Jake stormed out of the room, and this time, it was a storm, a hurricane that threatened to pop every window in the house with its pressure.

“—mother.”

I had a death grip on Austin’s wrist. He had gone white as a sheet, and with his free hand he was trying to pry my fingers loose, but he was doing it as subtly as he could, as though his parents would notice our touching but might not notice when he went charging after Jake. He was strong, but right then, I was stronger, and after a moment, he stopped trying.

“Vie, I’m so sorry.” Debra’s napkin flapped between her hands. Her perfectly tan, perfectly coiffed, perfectly mascaraed composure, which I would have valued at a million dollars, looked like it was about to slide off its foundation. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s all right,” I said.

“Don,” Debra snapped. “Go deal with your son.”

Wiping his mouth, Don heaved a sigh. His shoulders seemed like they dropped a mile as he left.

Debra’s apologies went on for a long time, and I had to keep chanting be nice, be nice, be nice, so that I could smile and assure her everything was ok, when what I really wanted to do was tell her she had raised a spoiled sociopath who needed to be beaten with a rubber hose six days a week. Somehow, finally, the apologies wound to an end, and the meal wrapped up, even though Don had never come back.

“Let me get you dessert,” Debra insisted as she took our plates.

“Mom, I think we’re going up to my room now,” Austin said. “To study.”

She chirruped that same laugh and said, “To study? That would be a miracle, Vie, if you could get him to study.”

With a groan, Austin led me out of the room, while Debra chirruped another desperate laugh as we left. Austin’s room was at the top of the stairs, and as we climbed, Austin massaged his wrist. My fingers had left red marks.

“Sorry,” I said, taking his hand and turning it to examine the prints.

“Jesus, Vie. You’re a rockstar for pulling through all that.” He pulled me into his room and shut the door. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Be nice. Be positive. I forced a smile and ran my fingertips over the marks on his wrist. “It went pretty well, I thought.”

“That went pretty well? How could it have been any worse? Nuclear winter?”

I pretended to think about it, letting my smile turn lopsided. “Your mom could have given me a second serving of that sweet salad. I’m serious, it went really well. Your mom and dad were nice, the food was delicious, Jake—”

Austin slipped onto his bed, dragging me down with him. His lips brushed my neck, and his hands ran down my back, but his voice carried a furious edge. “Let’s not talk about Jake.”

So I kissed him. Once, and then again, feeling those pop-pop-pops in the back of my brain that told me maybe tonight was the night. I was hearing fireworks just over the horizon, and if everything went right, maybe there’d be a show right in this very room. I slipped one hand under his shirt, running it across his abs, up his chest. His lips trailed kisses down my jaw, down my neck. I tightened my hand on him, and he bit my shoulder.