“Dude,” Parker said, tugging on the boy they held between them. “What’s your problem?”
Brett couldn’t articulate it. He didn’t want to, because the image of Parker tying Shane up had been so vivid. He could picture it perfectly, could picture the smile on Parker’s lips, the absolute lack of tremble in his hands. The precision of his movements, both strong and graceful at the same time.
Brett shook himself, and the vision slipped away. A figment of his imagination. He stumbled a little, and then Parker was pulling him toward the driveway, keys already in hand.
“Wait. You can’t—”
“He’ll be safe in here,” Parker explained, unlocking his car. He slid Shane into the driver’s seat, then turned the key in the ignition. “See, I’ll even make it cozy for him.” With that, he flipped on the heat, aiming the nozzle down, so it wasn’t blowing in Shane’s face.
The flurry in Brett’s chest started to settle. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now we grab that drink.” Parker slapped him on the back. Then they were walking away from the car, away from the boy slumped over in the front seat. Again, they’d almost reached the house when Parker stopped. “Shit, I should text Ruby. Let her know it’s safe to sleep, you know?”
Brett nodded, figuring he’d wait outside too. It was the polite thing to do. But Parker must’ve noticed the way Brett flinched every time the wind hit his knuckles, because he smiled, saying, “You go ahead. I’ll just be a sec.”
Brett’s chest flooded with relief. He pulled open the patio doors. There was a fire blazing in the living room, and he could feel the heat of it as he stepped into the house. It wasn’t until he’d trudged down the hall and locked himself in the bathroom that he thought to look outside. He hadn’t even washed his hands yet. The water was running, slowly turning from cold to warm, when his gaze flicked to the window.
To the flash of gold.
Brett knew instantly who it was. Those movements were fluid and confident, that hair lit up by moonlight. Parker was striding back to his car. He reached for the driver’s-side door, as if to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Still, Parker yanked at the handle, trying to wrench the entire thing off the hinges, and Brett could see movement inside the car.
Shane Ferrick was awake. And he was not opening that door.
Parker spun around in the dark, trudging back to the yard. Brett thought he was giving up. He told himself that Parker had finally gotten bored, but it wasn’t so. Parker was searching for a rock. He found one quickly, a big gnarly sucker, and then he was plodding back to the car.
What game was he playing?
Oh, that one. The one where Shane Ferrick, bludgeoned and bloodied and drunk out of his mind, would push on the gas just to get away from him. Backing up with a jolt, Shane went peeling out of the driveway and onto the road. Here one moment, gone the next. There was no way Brett could’ve stopped him.
There was no way Parker could’ve stopped him, not that he tried. The minute Shane disappeared, the rock dropped from Parker’s hand, and he smiled. He flat-out grinned, so wicked and wide, Brett could see it from a distance. Could see it in the darkness. That smile was glowing. Then, and only then, did Parker pull the phone from his pocket and type out a message.
Brett forgot about the faucet. He forgot about the splintered knuckles, the cold outside, everything. He even forgot the most basic rule of the boys’ friendship: never challenge Parker. Never call him out, and never call him guilty, because Parker Addison was a good boy. He was big, blond, and beautiful, and sure, he got into trouble sometimes, but he wasn’t evil.
He’d never kill anyone.
He wouldn’t, Brett told himself, over and over, as he raced through the house and out the patio doors. He made it as far as the bushes. That was when he ran right into Parker, slam, crash, clatter, and the two went tumbling to the ground. They’d barely bumped skulls, but the impact had sounded like tires screeching and glass shattering and . . .
Brett sat up, his throat dry and his hands shaking. He couldn’t swallow. “What did you do?”
“I . . .” Parker’s eyes were stretched in the darkness, more black than green. “I didn’t . . .”
“Parker, what the hell did you do?”
“I was just messing with him! I thought he would piss his pants or something. I never thought—”
“I saw you, Park. After he left. I saw you.” Brett dropped his head into his hands. He knew he should push to his feet. Jog out to the road, in case Shane needed help. In case there was another car. But he couldn’t bring himself to move, couldn’t bring himself to do anything but rock back and forth like a trauma victim.
Funny, considering the trauma hadn’t happened to him.
Still, he told himself that Shane might be okay. He’d probably crashed into the mailbox. Or maybe he’d made it down the street, to the oak that looped right up to the edge of the sidewalk, and he’d slammed into it. But Parker’s car was sturdy, and the cops were already on the way. Brett could hear sirens. Yes, he thought, lifting his head, the police would come for Shane, and everything would be fine.
The sky hadn’t brightened in the past few moments, and the air didn’t smell of smoke.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Parker said, that honey-gold voice sticking to him now, making him heavy. Making him sweat. “No one will find out what you did.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“You were never here,” Parker said softly. “You never touched him.”
“I . . .”
“Nobody saw you. Well, Gavin did, but he was wasted. Nobody’ll believe him. You can still get out of here, take the back roads home. Okay? Burn that shirt, and my jacket.”
Brett’s gaze came into focus. There, kneeling in front of him, was Parker. Brett was splayed out in the bushes like a forgotten rag doll, but Parker was composed. Calm. He brushed the sweat from Brett’s forehead, whispering, “We’ll take care of each other, all right?”
More sirens. More smoke. Brett felt like he was choking on it, even though he knew it was impossible. The smoke was too far away. The car crash. The fire. Oh God, what had they done?
No, not they. Parker.
“You . . .” Brett pointed at his oldest friend. “You put him in the car.”
“To keep him warm.”
“You gave him the keys.”
“I didn’t give him anything, and I never told him to drive. Jesus, Brett, what do you think of me? I was pissed at the guy. I wasn’t trying to kill him.”
“But . . . I saw you smiling.”
Parker jerked back, as if Brett had hit him. “You’re starting to freak me out. I would never accuse you of trying to kill the guy, and you’re the one who made him bleed. I saw you, and you were smiling. And I’m trying to protect you.”
“Why?” Suddenly Brett needed to hear it. He needed to know that his existence hadn’t been a mistake. A universal miscalculation, bound to happen with a population this large. Sooner or later, something slipped through the cracks. Someone did, and that someone was Brett. Most days, he was sure of it. But when Parker looked at him . . .
He felt chosen. Wanted.
Parker reached for the collar of his jacket, as if to straighten it, but instead, his fingers curled around it, pulling Brett close. “If they find his blood on you, they’re going to take you away from me.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So, I want you here.”
“You want me?” Brett asked, though he didn’t mean it like that. He knew Parker wasn’t into him. He’d always known. He’d accepted it. But now, with the sirens blaring and the night lit up by flames, Parker’s head dipped down, until there was almost no space between them.
“I need you.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” Parker said, leaning so close, his lips brushed against Brett’s neck. Just under his earlobe, in the spot that tickled. Brett shivered, but he didn’t jerk back. He didn’t move and he didn’t say a
nything.
Parker spoke again. When he said the L in “Leave this minute,” his tongue flicked against Brett’s skin. “Take McKinley and then cut to the freeway,” he added, still gripping the collar of Brett’s jacket. Parker’s jacket, fitting Brett so snugly. “I’ll corroborate your story.”
“Corroborate,” Brett murmured, wanting desperately to stay in this moment. This bubble. This lie. He knew it was a lie, knew in his heart of hearts that Parker was manipulating him, but reality was a burning car and a boy with Brett’s DNA all over him. Who wouldn’t choose a lie?
“I’ll protect you, and you’ll protect me. Right?” Parker asked.
“You’ll protect me,” Brett repeated.
“And you’ll protect me.” Parker’s head tilted up. Brett knew he should push him away, because this wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t . . .
It felt real. Warm. Sweet. Parker pressed his lips to Brett’s, chasing after him like he was starving. Like he’d been starving for a very, very long time, and Brett knew that feeling. He knew it better than anything.
“Please,” Parker begged, tongue sliding into Brett’s mouth. Breath hot. Body warm. “Please don’t let them take me. Please protect me. Please save my life.”
Brett hadn’t thought of it like that, but now—well, now he couldn’t really think of anything. His mind was a mess of buzzing bees. His body was electric, terrified one moment and then . . . this. Warmth, like the cold had never existed. Hunger that could actually be sated.
“Save my life,” Parker said again, gripping him so desperately, it seemed like an impossibility. This was what Brett wanted, but he didn’t want it like this. Parker was only doing it because he was scared. The second Brett realized it, he pulled back, and the distance gathered between them like darkness.
“I’m not going to turn you in.” Brett paused, trying to catch his breath. He’d never thought his heart could beat so quickly. “I’ll protect you, I promise. I’ll keep your secret.”
And for twelve long months, he had. He’d never spoken a word of it. Never written it down. He’d protected Parker, even after the two had drifted apart, because he’d honestly believed it was the right thing to do.
Until tonight.
Tonight, in a ragged whisper, he handed the secret to Ruby Valentine. He only told her the bones of the story. It was all he could manage. After he’d finished, his gaze traveled to Parker one last time, and Brett Carmichael closed his eyes.
33.
HUMAN TORCH
If Parker had been smart, he would’ve leapt into the pool. He would’ve hurled himself past the line of gasoline, bypassing Brianna entirely. He would’ve killed two birds with one stone. But Parker wasn’t smart at this particular moment, and instead of bolting forward, he stumbled backwards.
Toward the house.
And Ruby followed him, a wolf stalking her prey, her brain hardly registering the burning candle in Brianna’s hand. Truth be told, the house could’ve gone up in flames, and Ruby still would’ve followed him right then. She wanted vengeance more than she wanted life.
But luckily for Ruby (or maybe luck had nothing to do with it), no fires were lit as she neared the doors. Outside the line of gasoline, Brianna was kneeling on the patio, calmly watching the situation play out. It was funny, really, that in these final moments, Ruby was the storm, and Brianna was the eye in the center of it. Watching. Waiting.
She didn’t know the truth yet. She hadn’t heard Brett’s muffled story, and she didn’t know about the car keys. She didn’t know about the text. Now, as Parker squeezed himself through the opening in the patio doors, Ruby kept her voice low, because this conversation was between her and Parker. “Shane texted me that night. Mere minutes before he died, a message came in. Can you guess what it said?”
Parker shook his head.
“That’s all right, I remember it perfectly.” Then Ruby recited the message she’d read over and over again, since the night of the fire. “Can’t find my keys. Come get me?”
Below her, Brett gasped. His pallor was sickly and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes. If someone didn’t call an ambulance soon, he’d bleed out on the patio. Was it fitting, Ruby wondered, that he should go out seeing who Parker really was? Or should she feel sorry for him, now that he’d suffered his punishment, and do everything she could to keep him alive?
She didn’t know anymore. Her reality had been distorted since the night of Dahlia’s party, when the text had come in at three a.m. And Ruby, groggy from a night of tossing and turning, had climbed into her car and raced to meet Shane. But she’d never made it past the base of the hill, because that message found her too late.
Parker’s message.
“You weren’t just trying to kill him,” she whispered, as shards of glass clawed at Parker’s suit. Soon that pretty white shirt would be streaked in red. But unlike Brett, whose ragged breathing was giving her a sinking feeling in her stomach, Parker’s pain did nothing to hinder Ruby’s movements.
It fed her, and she feasted on it.
“You were trying to kill me. You texted me from Shane’s phone, knowing I’d think it was from him. And I’d get into my car, groggy and disoriented, and drive up that narrow road while Shane was racing down.”
She stepped up to the glass. By now, Parker had made his way through the jagged portal, and Ruby stared at him, like Alice peering through the looking glass. A drop of his blood was glistening on one of the shards, and she thought about using it to brighten up her lips.
But she couldn’t. Not with Brett so close, his eyelids fluttering and his chest moving up and down. He may have been slipping in and out of consciousness, but he was alive, and for that, Ruby was thankful. This had never been about killing Brett. It had always been about catching Shane’s killer, and so she knelt beside the boy on the ground.
“You ready to go home?”
Brett’s eyes opened. He looked hot, and seconds earlier, he’d looked cold. Ruby felt the curious urge to protect him. She’d meant what she’d said, about understanding how it felt to love Parker and be crushed by him at the same time.
Now, finally, Brett could break free.
“Come on, sweetheart.” She slid an arm beneath him. “Let’s get you away from the house.”
“Parker,” he began, voice cracking.
“Don’t worry,” she said, too quietly for anyone else to hear. “I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve.”
Brett smiled, fully trusting her in that moment. After all, she’d kept her promise to him. She’d taken the burden of Parker’s death into her own hands and saved Brett in the process. Now, as she lifted him from the ground, he settled into her, as if certain she would save Parker from Brianna’s wrath.
It was sweet, really. It gave Ruby a little boost of confidence. She practically danced toward the line of gasoline, where Gavin and Juniper were waiting, their limbs shivering and their hair dripping wet. “I can’t carry you over the line,” Ruby whispered in Brett’s ear. “If I get too close to the gasoline, Brianna will think I’m trying to escape, and she’ll light the fire. We’ll both go up in flames.”
Brett nodded, and Ruby shoved him toward his waiting classmates. Bye-bye, Iron Stomach. Brett lurched forward, and Ruby, jarred by the sudden shift in weight, stumbled backward, hopping on one foot. A potted plant broke her fall. It would’ve been funny, if anyone were in a laughing mood, but Juniper and Gavin were staggering under the weight of Brett’s body, and Brianna had her eyes trained on Parker.
The timing was perfect. Ruby slid her hand into the potted plant, pulling out the object she’d hidden at the beginning of the night. She would never bring a loaded gun into a party with Parker Addison. He would find a way to turn it on her. Now, shaking away clumps of dirt, she pointed the revolver at Brianna.
“Go!” she shouted to her friends.
Chaos erupted behind her, just like she knew it would. Juniper was trying to reason with her, but Ruby was beyond reasoning with. In that moment, she
was a tightrope walker, and her invisible wings had been shot full of holes. Eaten by moths. Nothing remained of their original beauty, like nothing had remained of Shane’s beauty after Parker was finished with him.
“Please,” Juniper pleaded at her back. “Please come with us.”
Ruby shook her head. There was no “us” without Shane, like there was no “together” anymore. There was also no fear. Her greatest fear had come to fruition one year ago, on this very night in December, and unlike Shane, whose fear had compounded after he’d lost his mother, Ruby’s fear had just . . . drifted away.
Like smoke from a body. Like a beautiful soul, rising above the trees and dancing into the darkness.
Ruby’s fear had left her body, and she’d become hollow, unburdened. Then, when the invitation had arrived, she’d started to feel something again. Her skin had crackled. Her fingertips had buzzed. Now Ruby Valentine was a firecracker ready to pop, and here, finally, was the match.
“I’ll meet you there,” she told Juniper. “After I’ve saved Parker. After you’ve saved Brett. And we’ll sit together in a bundle of blankets, and laugh about our death-defying escape, all right? Hot chocolate and blankets.”
“Hot chocolate and blankets,” Juniper repeated stubbornly and then she was backing away. Both she and Gavin were backing away, carrying Brett between them. Something tugged at Ruby’s stomach. Longing. She swallowed it down. She had business to attend to, and besides, her friends were already fading into the blackness. Here one minute, gone the next.
Funny, how quickly a person could disappear.
Her gaze swept to the girl in the white lace dress. Ruby grinned. It was a Cheshire cat grin, a crescent moon slicing across her face. It was mischief and murder combined. “It was Parker. In the Mustang. With the car keys. But he didn’t just get your brother onto the road. He texted me, trying to get me on that same narrow road.” She paused, turning to her ex-boyfriend. “I suppose we should be happy no one else was on the road that night. What if Shane had plowed into a family of four? Would you have felt bad? Would you have even batted an eye?”
This Lie Will Kill You Page 21
