Lies You Never Told Me(77)

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she says, hesitating. “How’re you doing?”

I don’t know how to answer, so I just say, “I’m okay.”

“Mom,” Gabe says. “We only have, like, an hour.”

“Okay, okay.” She frowns. “I’m running your sister to her playdate. I’ll be back in a bit. You have your phone? Water bottle? How’s your pain?”

“Mom,” he says again, more firmly this time. “I’m fine. Thanks for the ride.”

She purses her lips like she’s about to say something. Then she sighs, and starts the car.

“Bye, bye, Leese,” Vivi says sadly. She waves at me again. She makes the armadillo wave. “Bye, bye.”

“Bye, Vivi.” I watch them drive away, more because I’m almost afraid to look directly at Gabe than anything else. But once they’re gone I can’t put it off. I bite my lip and turn to face him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I say too. After all we’ve been through it feels ridiculous to start with “hey,” so I smile. And then he smiles too, and I’m almost overcome by the sweetness of it, the innocence. Our fingers slide together.

“I like your hair,” he says.

I touch the back of my head. I had one of the girls in the group home I’ve been staying at help me with it. It’s short now, just below my ears, and dyed back to the dark blonde that’s my natural color.

“Thanks,” I say. “I feel lighter now.”

“It makes you look . . . different.”

A quick surge of anxiety runs through me. “Different bad?”

“No.” He hesitates. “Less, like . . . hidden. But it’s good.”

I lick my lips, glance around. “Should we sit down?”

“Let’s walk,” he says. He pats his shoulder. “It’s not like I got shot in the leg.”

We take the path that skirts the lake. The city skyline is reflected in the dark water below. An egret floats placidly in the rushes. I look down at my feet, more from habit than anything else. My purple sneakers were ruined in the woods—they were covered in blood—but I found a pair of slip-ons in the donation bin at the social worker’s office.

“How’re you feeling, anyway?” I ask.

“Okay. It still hurts like a bitch, but they’ve got me on some pretty good drugs.” He gives a lopsided grin.

I try to smile, but my mouth feels dry. “Yeah, well, be careful with that stuff,” I say. “I mean . . . not to be a nag. But it’s not, like, recreational.”

His expression softens. “Shit. I forgot about your mom.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not accusing you of . . .” I bite the inside of my cheek, take a deep breath. “You know, Becky—the social worker—says the hardest thing for me is going to be learning that the worst doesn’t always happen.”

He doesn’t answer, just squeezes my hand. I force myself to look up. I don’t have to stare at the ground all the time anymore. I have to learn to look at the sky again.

“And she’s right,” I say. “I mean . . . you could have been killed, but you weren’t. We survived.”

“Yeah.” He strokes the inside of my wrist with his thumb. “And with Sasha caught out there with a gun, my name’s been cleared. No more po-po on my ass. She gave them a full confession, I guess . . . she told them she was the one that started the fire.”

I give a little shiver, remembering her expression in the spinning blue-and-red lights the other night. It wasn’t the gun that’d made her scary. It was the rush of recognition when I saw her turn it on herself. It was knowing that, while her brokenness wasn’t the same as mine, there was a way in which we were sisters.

“What’s going to happen to her?” I ask. “Are they charging her?”

“Yeah. But she’s got the best lawyer money can buy. She’ll end up with parole and some sort of court-mandated treatment program,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I heard her parents are looking at therapeutic boarding schools. The further away, the better, if you ask me.”

I give a little laugh. Boarding school. It doesn’t seem fair, after everything she put us through. But then, who am I to claim I know what anyone deserves? I just killed a man, and yet I’m walking free.

I’ve dreamed about him every night. And they’re the worst dreams—because they aren’t about Aiden as I came to know him, paranoid, possessive, territorial. They’re about the Aiden I fell for. The one who made me feel loved, and seen. And in the dream I still shoot him. I still shoot this man I love. I wake up with the metal taste of loss in my mouth, in the early morning hours before I have a chance to remember how angry I am. I lie in bed and wipe away tears, and by the time I’m completely awake I’m more mad at myself for crying than I am at him.

I’m finally free of him, but he’s still got a hold on me, at least in my dreams. I wonder if I’m ever going to be able to move on. If I’ll ever be able to forgive myself—not just for killing him. For everything. For all the choices I’ve made.

“Gabe . . .” I take a deep breath. His fingers tighten around mine reassuringly. “I’m so sorry for all of this. I wish I hadn’t lied to you. I wish I . . . I’d just trusted you. Instead I dragged you into my mess.”