One of Us Is Next(93)

“Oh.” I’m blank for a minute. The wedding already feels like it was months ago. “It was…good, I guess. You know. As good as it could be, under the circumstances.”

He nods heavily. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Nate was there,” I add. “He looked good. He was joking around, didn’t seem like he was in too much pain or anything.” I clear my throat. “It’s really great, what you’re doing for him. You know, the disability stuff. Everybody kept saying…how great it was. Is. Will be.”

Jesus. You can stop babbling anytime, Knox.

“Company policy,” Dad says stiffly.

“I know, but, like…you make the policy,” I point out.

To my surprise, his face breaks into a smile. “I guess I do.”

It’s as good a time as any to say what I’ve been meaning to tell him for a while. “Dad, I’m really sorry about cutting through the mall site. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not that I don’t listen to you, or respect your work. I do, a lot. I was just being thoughtless.”

The lines of his face soften. “Well. You’re seventeen. That’s gonna happen sometimes, I guess.” He takes a gulp of beer and looks at the floor. “I owe you an apology, too. I shouldn’t have said you’re not a hard worker. I know you are.” His voice gets gruff. “And another thing. You were smart last night, and brave, and even though I wish you’d kept yourself a little safer in that situation, I’m so proud of what you did. I’m proud of you, period. Always.”

Oh hell. I made it through the past twenty-four hours without crying and now my dad, of all people, is going to make me do it. Then he’ll probably take everything he just said back because I’m such a wimp. Before I lose it, though, Dad sets his beer down on an accent table, lets out a choked sob of his own, and yanks me into a bone-crushing hug. Which hurts a little, but—all things considered?

Worth it.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE




Phoebe

Wednesday, April 1

I take my time getting out of the car in the school parking lot Wednesday morning. I’ve been gone since Sunday, staying with Owen and my aunt a few towns over. Mom thought we needed a break, and she was probably right. Owen is still there, because he’s a genius and is months ahead on his schoolwork. But I can’t stay away forever.

I’m scared to be here. Scared of what people will think, and say, now that the truth is starting to come out. I’m afraid they’ll hate Emma—and me. I can’t blame them, because most of the time I hate us, too. Emma for starting this mess, and me for giving her a push off the deep end by hooking up with Derek at the worst possible time.

And I hate Brandon for what he did three years ago, but not enough that I’m not sick with regret about what happened to him. I know the thoughtless mistake of a spoiled thirteen-year-old doesn’t deserve this.

Everything hurts, basically. All the time.

My phone chimes in my bag, and I pull it out to a text from Knox. Don’t be nervous. We have your back.

I send a thumbs-up emoji in return, my stomach fluttering. I keep replaying our time on the roof in my head—not just the kiss, which warmed my whole body from the inside out, but the way Knox held me at the railing for so long, even though he was scared out of his mind. And the way he made me laugh when I thought I’d forgotten how. Plus, he looked surprisingly hot with his wrinkled shirt and his messy hair, his face all lean and haunted from the night before.

Maybe I just have a thing for wounded heroes. Or maybe Future Phoebe, who could appreciate someone like Knox, isn’t as far away as I thought.

My phone dings again. Maeve this time. Come inside. Bell’s about to ring.

Argh. Can’t avoid it forever, I guess. I get out of my car, lock the door, and trudge toward the back entrance. My eyes are on the ground, so when I reach the stairs I almost bump into the couple kissing passionately against the railing. “Sorry, my bad,” I mutter, then freeze when they pull apart.

My stomach drops. It’s Sean and Jules. Literally the last two people I wanted to see. I can’t even imagine what Sean is going to say to me—no, I don’t need to imagine it, because he’s opening his big stupid mouth right now and why can’t I move, this is going to be horrible.

“Hey, Phoebe,” he says.

It’s so different from what I expected that I’m struck mute.

Jules disentangles herself and shoves lightly at Sean’s arm. “Go inside,” she tells him. “I’ll meet you at my locker.” To my shock, he does as she says, lumbering up the stairs and disappearing through the door without another word.

“You trained him,” I say. Then I want to sink through the ground because God, that was rude, and neither of them deserves it at this particular moment in time.

But Jules smiles. “Sean has some seriously toxic male role models in his life, but he’s trying. He’s not as bad as you think, Phoebe.”

I guess she’s right. Especially since I thought at one point that he might’ve started the whole texting game in order to kill his best friend. Joke’s on me, I guess, that it was actually my sister who did that. Allegedly.

But there’s still one thing I need to know. Maybe it’s been in the media coverage already, but I’ve been avoiding that like the plague. I lean against the railing, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Why did you guys lie, Jules? About why Brandon jumped?”