Chapter 71

It's been a while since I've stood at this spot. I was eight, maybe nine years old, the last time I was here. The house has changed a lot—at least from what I can remember. New paint job, different landscaping… same front door.

There's a stillness in the air—a complete contrast to the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me.

It's 6:23, and I don't know why I'm here. It's been over twenty-four hours since I was invited, and I've spent every minute of every one of those hours in a daze, lost, blindly walking through the fog, searching for a way out.

After wiping the sweat from my palms onto my jeans, I inhale a huge breath, let it out slowly. Then I raise my hand and knock. For a long moment, the stillness continues, and I look back at my van sitting in the driveway.

I shouldn't have come here.

I should leave.

And I begin to do just that when the door opens. "Jace!" Connie gasps, her surprise evident. "I'm so glad you made it."

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stare down at the ground, mumble, "Jonah invited me, so…"

"Come in, come in!" she says, opening the door wider.

I dig deep for the courage to look up at her, already knowing what I'll see. There's a mixture of relief and sympathy, and her smile fades the longer she watches me. I drop my gaze again, reluctantly step inside. "Jonah!" she calls out. "Jace is here!"

A moment later, there's thumping on the stairs, along with high-pitched giggles. Jonah appears with his little sister, Amber, clinging to his arm, attempting to climb him. Jonah grins from ear to ear when he sees me, and I wish, more than anything, I could give him the same smile back. He sets Amber on her feet, and she immediately runs to her mom's side, hiding behind her leg.

"It's good you're here, man," Jonah says, and I nod, not knowing what else to do. "You going to come in or just stand in the doorway?"

"Jonah," Connie hisses, and Jonah moves around her to close the front door. It's only now I realize I've merely stepped foot in the house, nothing more, and I'm blocking the door from actually closing. Now is my time… If I want to leave, I can make an excuse, but Jonah doesn't give me the chance because he's literally pushing me out of the way so he can close the door behind me.

More thumps on the staircase, and Hillary, Jonah's other sister, appears, focused on her phone. "What's for dinner?"

Hillary's one of the kids who likes to hang out at the rink's parking lot with her middle school friends. I kind of remember when she was born. Mom would always bring me over here to play with Jonah while she took care of Hillary so Connie could get some rest. It's weird—the things I can remember… and the things I can't.

"We have a guest joining us for dinner," Connie says, and Hillary looks up at me, her eyes widening just a tad. She plays with her hair, then offers a smile, but there's something off with it. "Hey, Jace," she coos, then winks, and I don't know what to do with that, other than nod.

Without a word, she races back upstairs, and then the kitchen door opens, and Eric, Jonah's dad, appears, wearing a pale pink apron. "Jace!" he greets. "Good to see you! Dinner's almost ready!"

"You too. Thank you, sir."

Hillary's upstairs singing now, and music blasts from the kitchen while the TV plays loudly in the living room, and it's too much. Too much noise. Too many sources. Too much going on in my head to separate the sounds, the voices, and now Amber—the littler sister—is jumping up and down in front of me, waving a doll in the air.

Sweat pools at my hairline, and I pull up my sleeves, try to breathe through the sudden anxiety swarming inside me. "I'll be right back," Connie says. "I just have to make a quick phone call."

"Do you want a drink or something?" Jonah asks.

My throat is dry as hell, but I don't want to inconvenience him, so I tell him, "I'm fine for now."

"You like my doll?" Amber asks, her arms raised in the air. I don't know if she's asking me to pick her up, but I barely know her. Then again, I barely know any of the people in this house.

Not anymore.

"My doll!" she repeats. "You like her?"

"Yeah," I say, but it comes out in a whisper. I try again. "Sure, it's, uh… nice."

"Not it! She!" Amber corrects, hugging the doll to her chest. "Her name is Harlow."

My stomach dips, and beside me, Jonah lurches forward, as if about to attack his little sister. "Get out of here, squirt!"

She squeals as she runs away into the kitchen, and Jonah waits until she's no longer in view to mumble, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay." But it's not. Not really. I need to get out of here. This was a mistake, I'm ready to say, but a knock on the door has me stepping aside so Jonah can open it.

Lana's on the other side, her eyes immediately meeting mine. As comforting as it is to see a familiar face, it's just another person, another voice added to all the ones already in my head. "Hi, Jace," she says, and she stops right in front of me, placing a hand on my shoulder as she rises to her toes, kisses my cheek. I've never greeted Lana this way, but I do it now, simply because she does.

She turns to Jonah and repeats the same action, but it's clear he's more comfortable with it than I am.

"Five minutes!" Eric announces, coming out of the kitchen. He's no longer in the apron when he approaches me, his hand out between us. "How you doin'?" he asks, shaking my hand. Then he grimaces. "Sorry, that was a dumb question, considering?—"

"Dad," Jonah interrupts. "You're making things awkward."

"Right." He points a thumb over his shoulder. "Get back in the kitchen then?"

"Yes," Jonah responds.

"I'll come with you," Lana says, and then it's just me and Jonah, standing by the front door, and he's right. Even before his dad spoke, it was awkward, and I don't see that changing.

"So, you came…"

"I did, but…" I run through all the excuses in my head, but none of them feel as right as just telling him the truth: this is too much. I lift my gaze to his. There's an emotion in his eyes I can't decipher, but I know it's not pity. His smile fades the longer I look at him, and I wonder how he sees me right now—besides the obvious black eye and bruises.

There's something else.

Something more.

Jonah and me—we were bonded before birth.

Brothers from his first breath.

Our mothers had planned it that way.

Made sure of it.

Until…

I push down the emotion clogging my airways and look away, tell him, "I feel like I should've brought something…"

"Nah," he says, and I can hear the relief in his response. "Come on. Let's see what Dad's cooked up, because we might need an excuse to bail after and grab a proper meal."

I follow him into the kitchen, where his dad is at the counter, finishing up on a salad of some type, and his mom and Lana are standing by the sink, deep in a whispered conversation. They separate when we enter, covering their guilt with their smiles, and if I wasn't paranoid before, I sure am now.

Jonah picks at the salad, and his dad smacks his hand away. "You can't wait two minutes?"

"I'm hungry."

"Go sit down and wait at the table," Connie tells him, and he groans, gestures for me to follow him into the dining room, where Hillary, changed into a dress now, is setting the table. "You can sit next to me, Jace," Hillary tells me, and Jonah tells her to "knock it off"—whatever that means. Amber's already seated, her doll, Harlow, on the table beside her plate.

"It's Anna from Frozen," Jonah tells me, motioning for me to sit. He waits until he's seated beside me to add, "Amber thought Harlow looked like her, thus… Harlow now eats dinner with us every night."

"Have you seen Frozen, Jace?" Hillary asks, and I shake my head in response, which garners another one of those weird smiles from her. "Maybe we could watch it sometime, you and me?"

Jonah groans. "I told you to knock this shit off, Hillary."

I don't know what "shit" he's referring to, but Amber giggles. "Daddy! Jonah said shit!"

"God! You ruin everything, Jonah!" Hillary snaps, and suddenly, there are three more people in the room, and its chaos as everyone loads their plates, and I watch, listen, too many hands, too many voices, too much of everything at once.

Lana sits beside me, serving both our plates, and I wonder if she's noticed the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing. I'd had dinner with Harlow and her dad a lot, but I was comfortable there. I'm not here. I sit, the fork held in my hand, staring down at the plate, and I try to be present. Try to listen to the conversation around me. But I can't. My mind is spinning, getting more and more lost with each passing second, and I don't know what happens that makes my hand tremble, or my eyes water, or my breaths to become sharp and uneven. I remember the sound of glass shattering… and the view from below as shards rained down on me. I remember the sound of it crunching beneath my weight… the look in his eyes… a life for a life… I remember the agony, the throbbing in my face, my ribs. I remember the pain when the glass pierced my skin, right at my throat. I remember the darkness…

I remember the darkness as it fought to take over, and for a second—just one—I wanted to let it win.

There are voices in the distance, but I can't wake up from the nightmare. "Girls, it's time for bed."

"But we haven't eaten."

A life for a life, Isaac.

Grandpa… stop now, okay?

A hand covers mine, and I immediately drop my fork. The sound of it landing on the plate rings in my ears, and I look up and around me. Through the tears coating my eyes, I can make out three faces, all watching me. Eric and his daughters are no longer here. "Jace. You okay, honey?" Connie asks.

"I'm sorry." I stand so quickly, my chair tips on its back. "I need to go."

"No." Lana's on her feet, blocking my path. "Stay, Jace. Please."

My heart pounds against my chest, pulse rapid and unsteady. "I can't."

"It's all right, sweetheart," Connie says, stopping beside Lana.

"I need to go," I repeat, and I can't see. I can't breathe. I can't think. "I'm sorry." I hate that I cry. That there are people around to witness it. "I'm just having a moment. I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry."

Connie steps forward, circling her arms around me, and I don't know why…

I don't know why I choose now to fall apart, to hold on to something that once was. Connie tightens her embrace, and I lift my arms, hug her back tight, as if I'm afraid she'll disappear, and I…

I miss my mom.

As pathetic as it is, I want my mom.

"He wanted to kill me," I cry, the reality of the past few days finally crashing down on me. "He's hit me before, but he's never gone that far." I sniff back my heartache, try to settle my tears. "He wanted to kill me," I repeat, "and I don't know what to do, because the judge… the judge…"

Connie pulls away as Lana strokes my back, saying, "Let's sit down, okay?"

"No, it's okay." I shake my head. "I should go. I'm sorry for ruining your dinner."

"No, I'm sorry, Jace," Lana says, her voice cracking with emotion. I realize she's crying too, harder than I am, and I don't know why. "I'm so sorry I let you down." She glances over at Connie, who's wiping the tears off her cheeks.

"We both let you down," Connie agrees. "Your mother was like a sister to us, and we should've done more for you, Jace. All this time, we should've been there. We should've…" she trails off when her emotions get the better of her, and I shake my head. This isn't their fault. How could it be?

"I pushed you away," I admit.

"You were a child," Lana says. "It was our responsibility, and we failed you. Please sit, talk to us, let us help you now… We owe you that much."

I look between the two women in front of me, my chest aching, but my heart…

My heart begging to heal.

Somehow.

Some way.

Then I face Jonah, his eyes red from his withheld tears. "You're my brother, Jace," he croaks out. "You always have been."

My lungs expand at his words, and I glance around the room—at the three sets of eyes all pleading to help me. I cave in to their wants. To my needs. "There's something wrong with my grandpa," I tell them. "And I don't know what to do…"