by Lindsey Iler
Marek physically cringes as he moves behind Tripp. His hands press harshly into Tripp’s shoulders, squeezing until he winces.
“Should I keep reading?” I push off the wall, lurking closer.
“I think we all deserve to hear the rest of his visceral, mangy words,” Byron says.
“Gutting you, watching the life drain from your beautiful blue eyes will be the greatest moment of my life. No one leaves me. No one chooses to walk away from me, Laney. I decide when I’m done with you.” I toss the phone at Byron. He catches it without effort and tucks it into his pocket.
“Did you honestly think this vile bullshit wouldn’t get you killed?” Marek circles Tripp’s now-still body. “May I?” He looks over his shoulder, asking me for permission he doesn’t need.
“Be my guest.” I raise a hand towards Tripp.
Marek slugs him straight across the jaw. Tripp’s face flies to the side, falling limp. Marek grabs his hair, forcing him to look him in the eyes.
“Delaney Chambers has always been one of ours. We don’t allow outsiders to threaten our girls. Especially not a mother fucker like you.” One more punch, and Tripp is spitting up blood.
“You played with fire, Tripp.” I tsk my tongue. “It’s really too bad. I would’ve been kinder, nicer to you if you hadn’t threatened my girl.”
I reach my hand out for matches, knowing my boys are prepared to carry out this plan.
“The crazy thing is that no one will miss you. When the news of your father’s business becomes public knowledge, everyone will assume you ran off,” I explain.
“Or when the truth of your involvement is spread to every newspaper,” Dixon adds. “We’ll have the proof, and if we don’t, I’ll make damn sure we find it.”
“There’s no one to scream foul play because no one actually cares if a boy like you disappears. Your mother will be too preoccupied with your dad’s court dates. Plus, we all know she didn’t want you anyway. Your being gone will be like doing her a favor.”
“You can’t do this,” Tripp cries, tears running down his face. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”
“The gauntlet rules are simple. Get out.” I open the box of matches, ready to finish this.
Marek stops me. “You sure about this?”
“You heard what he said to Delaney,” I answer.
Dixon and Byron head out the door, not bothering to check on my mental state. They’re stone cold, always have been. To them, what I’m doing is like taking a walk in the park.
“It’s not always pretty being the hero,” Marek says, smacking my shoulder as we leave.
Right outside the door, I strike the match and drop it, setting the floor on fire. The air shimmers as the blaze spreads across the old, dry wood. Heat radiates on my back as I run to the car. Marek drives mine, while Byron and Dixon take the others. No one looks around, our eyes set ahead. We don’t need to. We know what we’ve done. We did it together.
“How are we not going to go down for this?” I ask, watching the flames grow bigger.
“Dixon has it covered,” he says matter-of-fact.
“What does that mean?”
“William has a friend at the fire station who owes him one. All 9-1-1 calls referring to a fire at the property are being rerouted by a friend at dispatch.” Marek chuckles. “Dix said William was surprised this was the first favor we had to ask of him through all of this. I think he’s impressed with our growth.”
“If that’s what you want to call this. Growth. And what friend? He’s barely friendly with us.”
“When Dixon Decatur says don’t ask, you don’t ask.” Marek drives onto the campus road, flashing his ID at the guards. They let us pass, unaware of what we’ve done. “Don’t think too hard about it. He got what he deserved. You did what you had to do. We all do.”
“I feel comfortable saying it right now because it’s the two of us, but it’s not Tripp I’m worried about. I’m mostly worried Delaney doesn’t know what she’s gotten into,” I say.
“The thing is it takes a lot to rattle these girls. They’ve been chosen by us, and they’ve chosen us because they can handle a dance with the devil. If they couldn’t, they’d be long gone.” Marek parks inside the garage, Dixon and Byron following close behind. We get out, meeting at the trunk.
“Who knew the softy of our group had the most blood on his hands?” Byron jokes, wrapping his arm around my neck and tugging me close to him.
“Very funny, asshole. Let me go.” I push him off and run through the door into the house.
Following the laughter makes it easy to find the girls. I slink through the halls and peek through the small crack into my room. Palmer and Madison are on the bed, and Reagan is lying on the floor with one leg hung over the other. Before I have time to wonder, Delaney paces into my sight.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Reagan states, sitting up fully erect. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for Dixon, and y’all are sitting here, going with the flow, when nothing”—she circles her hands, ghosting them over the carpet—“about any of this is normal.”
“It’s normal in our world,” Madison says. Palmer looks at her with affection. “What they did to my brother, it’s fucked up, but he wouldn’t have stopped.”
“Like that, for instance. How are you okay with it? He’s your brother,” Reagan argues.
“He stopped being my brother a long time ago.” Madison glances away, catching me spying. “You can come in, Breaker. No need to linger in the hallway.”
I open the door, and Delaney’s eyes light up like someone’s given her a plate of her favorite dessert. The girls notice her change in mood and leave us alone. Madison flashes me a quick wink as she passes.
“You’re home,” she says, picking at the remnants of her nail polish.
“I am.” I move one foot forward. She mirrors me. We continue this until she’s in my arms.
“I already know what happened, Breaker. You don’t need to handle me like a delicate flower. I won’t wilt from being handled by you.” She picks at the collar of my shirt, trying to appear unphased.
“I’ve killed two people,” I whisper the truth that can sometimes be hard to face. “And I don’t feel guilty. What does that say about me? How am I going to look in our kids eyes one day and be worthy of that kind of love when I’ve taken two woman’s sons out of this life?”
She cradles my face in her hands and kisses me quickly. When she pulls away, there’s nothing but love in her eyes. “I promise to make sure they know what kind of man you are. The kind that protects those closest to him.”
How can she look at me and not see a monster after everything she’s witnessed? Where does that strength come from?
“Someone once told me that you looked at me like you needed a hero. I knew they were wrong because a girl like you doesn’t need someone to save her. You’re more than capable of doing that for yourself. You’ve proved it, time and time again.”
“I didn’t follow you into those woods that first night to find a hero, Breaker. I wanted to feel alive, to feel something other than adequate.” She grabs my hands, entwining our fingers. “And for the record, some may think you’re a monster, but you’re the exact hero I’ve always needed. Cracked knuckles, bloody shirt, and all.”
Epilogue
Delaney
One Month Later
This year has brought a lot of things into my life.
Three of which are staring at me across the breakfast table.
“What do you all want from me?” I drop my spoon into my bowl of cereal. The milk moves like a wave, sloshing close to the edge.
“Just spill it,” Byron demands.
“There’s nothing to spill.”
“You were the last one to see them both,” Dixon adds. He leans back, crossing his strong arms over his chest. His leg bounces, sending quakes through his body.
“And why do you even care?” I look at Marek, unsure what his motives are.
“I’m not going to lie
. It’s getting a little boring around here.” He smirks.
Boring? The last six months have been a literal hell. How we’ve survived is astonishing and a true testament to our resolve and mental stability. I can only speak for myself, but I’m certain I was a few events away from a complete breakdown. Besides, the physical toll my body has endured is ridiculous.
“Well, your boys’ idea of exciting is dangerous, not to mention reckless,” I say. “I’d prefer if the remaining months of high school weren’t spent this way.”
“You’re no fun, Delaney.” Marek stands. “You better tell these boys where those girls are, or else you’ll have them out there, in the wild, trying to navigate the situation on their own.”
“Lord knows we can’t have that.” Palmer peeks around the corner. “You ready to go?” She smiles at Marek.
“Where are you guys heading off to so early?” I ask.
“She’s making me study,” Marek explains, grabbing Palmer’s hand and dragging her across the room.
She’s happy to lean into his arms, kissing him before poking her head around his body to talk to us. “What he means to say is I’m helping him keep his grades up so Hollow Crest University doesn’t revoke his scholarship on account of him being a dumbass.”
“See you guys later. I’ll be lording over my textbooks all day.” Marek waves, dragging Palmer behind him out the door.
I finish eating and go to the sink to clean out my bowl. The heat of their stares warms my skin. “Guys, I seriously don’t know anything.”
A subtle pressure hits my back, and when I turn, both of them are nearly knocking into me. I place my hand on their chests. “Mind giving me some space, boys?”
“At least tell me if Reagan is getting my texts,” Dixon begs.
“Wait, who are you worried about?” I point to Byron, lowering my eyelids to inspect him.
“Madison never texted me back. She left that night when we . . .”
“Killed her brother.” Breaker’s voice causes my body to relax. I shift to catch him in the doorway. “You can say it.”
What happened in that abandoned, rundown house isn’t something we are proud of. I can look around this small circle we’ve created and know that for certain. If anything, this life has taught me that sometimes our actions aren’t meant to be proud of. At the end of the day, we are all trying to survive. With a flick of a matchbook and determination to set us free, someone lost their life. There’s no remorse, though. I don’t lose sleep over his lost life, just as I don’t anymore for Declan.
Living the Glass House Boys lifestyle means taking things into your own hands sometimes. Our moral compass doesn’t always point North. That’s something I can live with.
“Someone has a crush on Madison,” I singsong, dancing in front of Byron. He’s agitated most days, so I know my little theatrics will piss him off more.
“Hardly.” He rolls his devilish eyes. “She’s jailbait, and even if she wasn’t, she’s an impossible human being, with a tendency to get on my last fucking nerve.” He stomps to the pantry, huffing and puffing heavy breaths as he disappears inside.
“He’s screwed,” I acknowledge.
“And what about me?” Dixon says.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Who the hell could that be this early in the morning?” Breaker whispers.
Dixon walks to the door and swings it open. He’s barely in view, hidden alongside our unannounced guest. He turns with wide, worried eyes, shutting the door after Officer Franklin walks inside. Breaker moves in front of me, shielding me.
I press my mouth against Breaker’s back. “Shit!”
“We don’t know why he’s here,” he whispers, grabbing my hand and squeezing my shaking fingers.
“Look who’s here,” Dixon announces. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Cut the shit, kid.” Officer Franklin glances at Dixon, making him recoil, and then at Byron, Breaker, and me. “Do you guys have a few minutes to chat?” He gestures to the table. We follow his lead, taking the two seats across from him.
“I’ll give you guys some space.” Dixon motions a thumb over his shoulder.
“Not so fast. Take a seat.” Officer Franklin points to the lone chair at the end of the table.
“Should I leave?” Byron offers, dropping the spatula on the pan.
“Keep on with your business over there. I’m sure you’re all hungry,” Officer Franklin says.
I inspect Breaker and Dixon’s faces to see if they’re feeling the anxiety that I am. Breaker winks at me, attempting to ease my heart. It doesn’t.
Worst case scenarios run through my mind like a horror movie. Every reel ends with one or all of us in jail.
“What can we do for you, sir?” Breaker interrupts the uncomfortable silence.
Officer Franklin grabs a chair and sits. “You wouldn’t happen to have heard from Tripp DuPont, Delaney?”
“Not since our last exchange,” I admit. “With everything going down with his family and ours, I suspect he wants to stay as far away from us as possible.”
“That would make sense, except his car was found,” Officer Franklin confesses. “Right outside city limits. His mom said it wasn’t uncommon for him to abandon it, so we didn’t think anything of it at first.”
“But now you’re worried something happened to him?” I ask, needing more details. It’s the only way to know how truly fucked we are.
“His mother has filed a missing person report.” Officer Franklin leans forward, resting his forearms on the tabletop. “Now, I’m going to ask you one more time.” His eyes are full of worry. Perhaps he’s afraid of what the truth could be. That will be going to our graves with us. “Do you know where Tripp DuPont is?”
The front door opens and shuts. I’m too scared to look away from Officer Franklin to see who it is. If I break eye contact, I’m certain he’ll know we’re lying.
“Sir, no offense, but we can’t be bothered with anything to do with Tripp DuPont,” I say. It’s more than likely the wrong thing to say, but controlling the anger and hurt when hearing his name is more than a little difficult.
“If you’re worried about my brother, my guess is he’s seventy-five miles off the coast of Florida by now,” Madison says as she strolls into the kitchen. “He sails when he needs an escape. I think this situation, more than anything, warrants an escape, don’t you?”
“Your mother suspected that may be the case, but she wanted to be ahead of things, on the off chance something else has happened.”
“My brother is a narcissistic, self-centered asshole, sir. My guess is he’s out in the world somewhere, blowing his inheritance on cocaine and liquor, hoping to numb the poor excuse of a life he’s creating around him.” Madison leans against the kitchen island, Officer Franklin tracking her every move. “Your resources are better suited in finding real problems, not with an eighteen-year-old throwing a tantrum because his sinister meal ticket has been set on fire.”
Breaker coughs uncontrollably at her final word, catching everyone off guard.
She smiles at Breaker when Officer Franklin spins to check on him.
“I’m fine, sorry,” Breaker apologizes, holding up his hand.
“I know your life isn’t normal. The rules are different for you. The boundaries are blurred more than they’re not.” Officer Franklin stands and allows his stare to shift between us, landing on me last. “If you know of that boy’s whereabouts, please come forward. If he contacts you, please come forward. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
“We sure will, Officer Franklin.” Dixon jumps up to escort him to the door, and once he’s outside, Dixon watches for thirty seconds before sauntering back to us. “Holy shit.”
“That was a close one,” Breaker admits.
“How’d you know he was here?” I ask Madison. “You showed up right when we needed you to.”
“I overheard my mother talking to him,” she answers, joining us at the table. “I had a feeling this woul
d be his next stop.”
“Off the coast of Florida?” Dixon inquires.
“If they look into it, our jet will be seen going from the local airport to the Florida airport we fly into,” Madison explains. “Flying private has its perks. Also, Dixon, you’re going to want to hack into the camera system at the Florida airport and all the venues leading to it to ensure I covered the tracks completely. They should only find Tripp on camera, or someone who appears to be him.”
“How’d you pull that off?”
“Let’s just say someone owed me a favor, and things are taken care of.” Madison shrugs.
Her nonchalant attitude is partially frightening and admirable. Madison is the type of girl who shows up when she’s needed, does what is necessary, and doesn’t want any of the credit.
“I can handle the security cameras,” Dixon says confidently. His hands rest on her shoulders, and he bends down to kiss the top of her head. “Whatever you did, you protected us, so thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” Madison fiddles with the hem of her shirt, avoiding eye contact with Byron, who’s doing his best not to look away from the stove. Something has been transpiring between them, like an untold secret, passing between their eyes whenever they dare to look for it.
“It isn’t nothing.” Byron’s voice booms into the space, drawing our attention. “So, if things are handled, and I can assume our secret is safe with you, Madison, then what are we worried about?” He’s accusing her without saying the words, and by the disappointment in her eyes, I’d say she feels it.
“Your secrets are safe with me, but I’m not the one you need to be worried about,” Madison explains matter-of-fact.
Breaker hunches forward, uncertainty and confusion etched in the corners of his eyes. If our secrets are safe with her, then who else do we have to worry about? Anyone who knows what happened that night, who bore witness and heard the story, would never speak about it.
“Holy shit! Do I need to spell it out for you?” Madison slams her hand on the table.
“Yeah, sweetheart, you just may need to,” Byron says, gripping tight to the arms of her chair. He spins her around, making the metal feet grind on the tile floor. “Spell it out.”
