“You shaved,” I whispered. His own eyes filled with tears as he brought his hand up and closed it around mine, and that was what put me over the edge. I started to cry, really cry, all the tears I’d been holding back all of these days finally exposed. I pressed my forehead to his shoulder and cried as he held my head and cried along with me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“You died, Lincoln.” I pulled back, wiping my tears. “They used Narcan and still could barely bring you back and then the only thing you do is Morse code me The Lab? What the fuck?”
“Is that why you brought him?”
“No.” I wiped my face again. “He’s my boyfriend.”
A multitude of expressions passed over his face—confusion, pain, more confusion, before he settled on laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“Fitz doesn’t do girlfriends.”
“I’ve heard.” I sighed. “But as it turns out, Fitz has a girlfriend and it’s me.”
“You trust him?”
“Why wouldn’t I? He’s never given me a reason not to.”
“The person who did this to me . . . the person who injected me with that shit was wearing a black cloak. It could be any one of them.”
“It wasn’t Logan.”
“How do you know?”
“You really think Logan would try to kill you?” I scrutinized him. “You think Marcus or Nolan or Nora would?”
I hadn’t formally met the other two members yet, but I couldn’t imagine they’d have anything to do with it either. Why would they? They had nothing to gain and everything to lose if they did some extreme thing like kill another member.
“I don’t know, Mae. I don’t know what to think and all I do is think.” His voice wasn’t his own and it had little to do with the hoarseness and more to do with the way he was slurring his words, as if his tongue was tripping over itself as he spoke.
“I know about dad and the girls,” I said, lowering my voice so mom wouldn’t hear. “And Lana.”
Lincoln flinched at the sound of her name.
“You tried to convince her to stop seeing him,” I said, “and the rest of the members wanted her out, they didn’t want her to be around or write about anything she saw.”
Lincoln kept his eyes on me, a faraway look in them as I spoke, as if he was physically here, but mentally elsewhere.
“She’s dead,” he said after a while. “Lana. She’s dead.”
“What?” I placed my hand on my heart, willing it to stop beating so hard. “What do you mean?”
“She jumped the fall. There are so many rocks down there, beneath those waterfalls. She just jumped.” He blinked away tears. “She just jumped and I just let her.”
“You’re not making any sense, Lincoln. When did this happen?”
“The night of the accident. We were arguing about dad. I was on the verge of just reporting all of them to the police, fuck the consequences, and then the accident happened and then she jumped.” He paused for a long time, taking deep breaths. “I don’t even remember how we got into the accident. I must have lost control.”
“So she got out of the car and jumped?” It didn’t make any sense. “What did she say before she jumped?”
“I can’t remember. I don’t remember. I just remember she jumped. The look in her eyes . . . she looked like she’d been defeated.” He wiped his wet face. “I think I made her jump.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I think I made her jump.
What did that mean? Did he ask her to jump? He didn’t remember details of what happened, but was it possible that my brother would ask another human being to commit suicide? The Lincoln I knew would have never done that, but now I wasn’t sure. I remembered what Logan had told me the night of initiation and how he also blamed my brother. Had they all been willing participants in that night? Was I being kept in the dark? I couldn’t picture Logan doing that either. It wasn’t up to par with the man I had growing feelings for. That was yet another issue though. Love blinded people and I could have very well been blinded by my love for my brother and the way I felt about my boyfriend. I didn’t want to be that person, the one who supported a man in the wrong just because I loved them, but I also couldn’t fathom either one of them knowingly hurting someone like that. Logan didn’t even like his brother because he’d been accused of rape and he’d chosen to believe the victims. He wouldn’t be capable of murder or plotting one. He didn’t even want to camp out while The Swords were hazing because of plausible deniability. That didn’t sound like a man who would participate in something this sinister.
That only left my brother. He stopped talking about it, probably because I was trying to convince him of his own innocence and he was tired of hearing it. After an hour, he warmed up to the idea of letting Logan visit with him. I left the room to go get him, and paused when I saw my mother, no longer working. She was sitting across from Logan with a glass of red wine in her hand and an array of snacks on the table, from chilled shrimp and mussels to Doritos.
“You’re going to get a stomach ache,” I told Logan, who was slurping down a mussel. He shrugged, grinning.
“Well, I’m glad somebody told me you have a boyfriend,” mom said, standing up. “Otherwise, I might have found out via a wedding invitation.”
“Mom.” My jaw dropped. I felt my face redden as Logan chuckled. “So embarrassing.”
My mother stood with a smile on her face, wrapping her arms around me. “I missed you, and I really like this one. He’s a keeper.”
“Wow.” I pulled away and glanced at Logan. “Good luck trying to escape now. Mom rarely gives her seal of approval.”
“It must be my lucky day, eh?” He grinned, that devilish grin that made everything inside my body come to life.
“I’m assuming you’ll stay the night,” mom said, sitting back down.
“Yeah, but we need to leave early in the morning. Logan has practice and games all week.”
“Pity.” She took a sip of wine.
“My brother wants to see you,” I told Logan. He wiped his hands and stood, taking a healthy gulp of the wine in front of him before walking into the room. I took the seat he vacated and poured myself wine in his glass.
“We have clean glasses, Amelia.” Mom gave me a disdainful look.
“This one is perfectly fine.” I took a sip and set the glass down.
“How does he look to you?” Mom whispered, leaning forward. “Did he talk? Sometimes he doesn’t talk. It’s maddening. The doctors said he’s doing much better than anticipated. He’ll need months of therapy.”
“I can’t believe you guys didn’t call me when he woke up.” I ran a finger along the rim of the glass. I wasn’t one to voice my feelings often, which made my psychologist mother crazy, but this was one time I was willing to do it because as much as I tried to ignore it, I knew I wasn’t going to just get over it. “That was really hurtful.”
“I’m sorry. I thought we were doing the right thing. Your brothers agreed that it came off as selfish instead of selfless.” She reached over and put her hand on mine. “I don’t want to lose another kid, Amelia. I want you to have regular experiences in school. I know what it’s like to go through trauma at that age, trust me, I don’t want that for you.”
“But still. I would’ve liked to have been there.”
“It won’t happen again.” She squeezed my hand before taking it back to her glass. “I hope none of this happens again.”
“You look tired.”
“I skipped three Botox appointments.”
“Mom.” I shot her a look, then shook my head. If she wanted to make jokes, so be it. It was better than crying. “What does the doctor say about his memory?”
“He’s had a lot of long-term memory loss, but not nearly as bad as we thought it would be. His short-term memory is foggy, but Dr. Ginsburg thinks with time he’ll regain it.”
“That’s good.”
I brought the glass closer to me, thinking about what he’d said about Lana. He had months to report it and hadn’t. They’d searched those woods though, including where the accident had taken place, and all of the waterfalls around, and found nothing. I thought about my father and his role in this, and then remembered what Manny said about flying him upstate. “Where’s dad?”
“He went to a meeting with Dean Ellis. You know universities are only worth as much as their donors.”
“Right.” I set the glass aside and stood. “I’m going to check in on Lincoln and Logan.”
As I walked over, I heard them talking quietly. Logan was on the other side of the bed, so I got a clear view of his face. He was smiling. My brother was too. I sighed. Thank God for small miracles. When they heard me open the door they stopped talking and looked at me.
“Are you having a super secretive conversation I’m not privy to?”
“Nah. I’m just trying to figure out how I told you that staying away from this asshole wasn’t a drill and you still ended up going for him.”
“I didn’t go for him.” I walked over to Logan. He put his arm around me.
“It’s true. She made me work for it.”
Lincoln smiled, then turned serious. “Did mom tell you I have therapy?”
“Yeah.”
“I need help to do everything. I can’t eat, can’t shit, can’t shower without help.” He sighed, closing his eyes.
“You’ll bounce back quickly.” I put my hand on his. “You always do. Remember when you broke your arm in high school and played on the team with a cast?”
Lincoln smiled. He opened his eyes. “That was pretty badass.”
“Maybe you can play in a wheelchair. I bet you’d still score more goals than Ryan.”
Lincoln laughed, shaking the bed. “Fuck, he’s still on the team?”
“Warming the bench, but hey. Kid’s got a jersey.”
Lincoln shook his head. I frowned.
“Is that the one that tripped at the pep rally?”
They both laughed.
We spent the rest of our stay like that, joking with my brother, until he got too tired and fell asleep. According to the nurse, he needed to keep resting as much as possible. I didn’t want to leave him so quickly, but I needed to get back to class as much as Logan needed to get back for practice, so I left, begrudgingly, promising I’d be back much sooner. I thought having my brother awake would help me answer more questions, but I still had the same ones: who did this to Lincoln and what happened to Lana? If Lincoln’s memory wasn’t faulty, and she had jumped and died.
Chapter Forty
Maybe I’d gotten too used to Logan skipping his own classes to come to mine, but I felt like every class I sat in was a bore. Half of the time, I spent working on my articles about the various community events around the city, all which of course included members of The Eight. Logan had been playing catch up in his own classes and making sure his grades were up before he left for an entire week.
“Do you think there’s a secret society of only women?” A girl in the front of the auditorium asked. Some of her friends laughed.
“If there is one, I hope you get your invitation soon, Miss Camelot,” the professor said. “As I was saying, The Sex Disqualification Act of 1919 made it possible for women to enter universities or get jobs they may not have been able to get prior to that.”
I tried to pay attention and take notes, but I ended up falling asleep instead. I woke with a start, at the sound of someone shutting their book, and realized class was over. I grabbed my things and walked out. Thankfully the professor didn’t call me out for sleeping, but she did shoot me a dirty look as I walked past her. When I stepped outside, I was surprised to see Logan. As usual, he didn’t have a bookbag or books in his hand. What he did have was two girls smiling up at him. He looked bored, but they obviously didn’t care. If I’d been jealous before, I didn’t even know what this feeling threatening to rip me apart from the inside could be considered. I wanted to grab them by the hair and claim him as mine. As if hearing my thoughts, he looked up as I approached. Only then did he smile. Only then did he push off the wall and walk forward, brushing past the girls as if they weren’t even there. When he reached me, he made a show out of kissing me, framing my face with both hands, sticking his tongue down my throat, pressing up against me. I pushed my hands under the t-shirt he wore under his jacket and scratched his back. He groaned into my mouth, deepening the kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes were hazy.
“Do you want me to fuck you in front of all these people?”
“No.” I smiled up at him, feeling my cheeks burn at his words. “But you can take me home and fuck me there.”
He kissed me hard one last time, the grabbed my hand and started walking, as if he didn’t notice any of the people who had stopped to look at us.
“That’s going to end up on a blog somewhere,” he commented.
“The kiss?” I blinked up at him. “Are you serious?”
“Babe, everything I do ends up on the internet.”
“In that case, I’m glad I didn’t click on too many links when I Googled you.”
He chuckled, squeezing my hand.
“I guess if it does end up on the internet, you won’t be able to deny that you have a girlfriend.” I frowned. “Not that most girls would care that you have one. If anything, that might make you more attractive to some of them.”
“You know what’s crazy?”
“What?”
“I don’t give a fuck what they think. I’m with you, remember?”
“Yeah, but maybe—”
“No maybe. I’m yours.”
“Okay.” I smiled.
I felt like I hadn’t stopped smiling since we got back from visiting my brother. Well, with the exception of when I stopped to think about Lana. Then, my mood soured all at once.
“Do you think Lana’s dead?”
“Mae.” Logan sighed. “This again?”
“I just . . . Lincoln thinks she’s dead.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow.
“What does that mean?” I let go of his hand and walked into our building. He followed. I waved at Gary. He waved back with a smile.
“What does what mean?”
“You said really like that and raised your eyebrow like you find it hard to believe that my brother said that.”
He shrugged. I pushed the button to the elevator, crossing my arms as I looked at him. He looked at me without a care in the world, as if he hadn’t just said something slightly insulting. The doors opened. We walked in. They closed. I kept my distance and kept staring.
“Why did you say it like that?”
“You’re really trying to pick a fight over this?”
“I’m not trying to pick a fight. I’m asking you a question.”
“And you’re getting upset that I’m not answering it.” He waited for me to step out of the elevator.
“Yeah, because you’re implying my brother had something to do with it.”
“How am I implying that?” He stood beside me as I unlocked my door.
I didn’t even hold it open for him, I just walked through and let him catch it as he walked in behind me. I tossed my keys on the counter, let my messenger bag drop to the floor and faced him again.
“What do you think happened to Lana?”
“I have no fucking idea because I wasn’t there.”
“I asked you what you think happened.”
“I don’t know.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Your brother was the last person to see her and if he says she’s dead then I believe him.”
“You think he killed her.”
He was quiet for a beat, staring at me, his eyes calculating words that he wanted to say but wasn’t sure how they’d be received. I knew that look. I owned that fucking look. Damn him.
“You think he killed her,” I stated before he had a chance to respond.
“It’s the only logical
explanation,” he said, bringing a hand up to check off, “Your father was having an affair with her, your brother wanted to expose the little sex ring they have going, Lana was your brother’s friend and would not listen to anything he had to say in regards to the affair, and nobody wanted her around The Lab out of fear that she’d expose it all.”
“Expose what?” I shouted. “There is nothing to expose.”
“There’s a lot to expose.” He chuckled darkly. “Starting with your father.”
I staggered back. He wasn’t wrong. I knew he wasn’t wrong. I knew what he was saying was one hundred percent true. I also knew that it was my family he was insulting. My family that would suffer if my father’s disgusting habits and secrets were exposed. My mother would be crushed. My nieces would get the brunt of it from their schoolmates. That was the way it always happened. The family always suffered more than the culprit. Logan closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling as if summoning a higher power to help him out. There would be none. Not one that could help him out in the very near future anyway. He looked at me again.
“I’m going to go pack for my trip. If you want to talk about something else, I’m down the hall. You can come over or call me or I can come back later.”
I crossed my arms. “You don’t want to talk about the fact that my brother is not a murderer?”
“We don’t know that, Mae. We don’t know what happened. He doesn’t even know what happened.”
“But we know him,” I insisted. When he didn’t budge, I sighed heavily. “I guess I’ll talk to you later then.”
He walked to the door slowly, as if waiting for me to call him back. I wouldn’t. He cast one last glance at me as he walked out.
“This doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
I nodded, hating the way tears pricked my eyes, because despite my anger, it didn’t change how I felt about him either. How could it? But I needed him to be on my side here. I needed him to be on our side.
Chapter Forty-One
Half-Truths: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 27