No.
No, it can’t be. That’s?—
That’s—
My hand lifts without permission, fingers brushing the glass.
“…What is this?” I whisper.
My voice doesn’t sound like mine.
Blood roars in my ears.
The world tilts.
Because that’s not just any little boy standing beside Helen.
That’s—
That’s Bruiser.
My son.
In her arms.
Smiling.
Alive in a moment I was never part of.
“Just my third-grade picture,” Caleb says behind me, casually. “Why?”
Third grade.Third?—
My stomach drops. Everything clicks. Every lie and every missing piece.
Every moment that never quite made sense?—
Oh my God.
Oh my God. Z did much,muchworse than just lie the night he said Helen wanted me gone.
Somehow, I can’t even fathom how, he lied abouteverything.
TWELVE
HARPER
On impulse,I reach out to grab Caleb’s hand and drag him toward the stairs. I don’t dare look behind me to see if anyone can see us from the living room or back deck, but I don’t think they can.
It’s too late to stop now that the house of cards is suddenly crashing down.
“Harper?” Caleb sounds so confused, even as his hand clamps down on mine while I start dragging us up the stairs. “What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you somewhere alone.Now.”
I don’t dare look at him as I continue all but running up the stairs, him on my heels, still connected by his unrelenting grip on my hand.
Everything I thought I knew is rupturing in real time, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he makes eye contact with me right now. His grip is steady. He feels it and he’s in it with me even before he knows whatitis.