by Kelley York
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed. “I just…”
Stevens waved him off. “We have Evan’s statement. I can come back in the morning to take yours when you’re a little more coherent.”
He excused himself. None of this made sense. Archer waited a few minutes to ensure they were really alone before sitting up straight, gaze snapping to Evan. “The list…”
Evan refused to meet his eyes. “Like he said. They found it on Vivian.”
Archer thought he was going to be sick. How far had Evan been willing to go to keep him from getting into trouble? “They…”
“They also have our phone records. Copies of the texts she sent.” His eyes flicked to Archer but averted again quickly. “Told you it was smart not to reply to anything she sent.”
Archer’s mind reeled from the possibilities. Evan had lied for him, but would he go as far as setting Vivian up? Archer tried to picture it—Evan stumbling out of bed, still drugged and out of it, trying to call for help while planting the list on Vivian.
“Evan…”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said quickly. Finally, he met Archer’s gaze, mouth drawn thin. “I’ll tell them the truth in a heartbeat if you won’t buckle down and get help. I don’t care if they charge me for lying to the police.”
There was nothing in his voice to suggest he wasn’t serious. It meant therapy and shrinks and telling them things he had never told anyone and he…
“Anything you want.”
…didn’t agree because he was afraid of going to jail. What did that matter? He agreed because this was his mess. His mess that he had drawn Evan into. Had ruined him for life with the weight of their shared secrets.
Evan’s entire composure relaxed. He brought a hand up, smoothing Archer’s hair back. “Thank you. That’s all I ask for.”
That simple touch was all it took to confirm he was making the right choice. What were secrets if he could keep Evan safe from the mistakes he had made? And speaking of which, he didn’t want to ask. He already knew, of course, but—“Vivian…?”
The smile slipped from Evan’s mouth.
No, no, never mind. I don’t want to hear it.
Evan touched a hand to his jaw. “Archer, she…was gone before the paramedics got there.”
Hearing it made it real.
And as Evan gently brushed away the tears on his face, all he felt was relief.
Saturday, December 6th
It hurt like hell to walk. He’d gone through all the fuss of waving off Evan and nurses while getting out of the hospital and into the car, only to end up grasping Evan’s arm to keep his legs from buckling.
“You really should stay another few days,” the nurse cautioned, but since he was healing and there was no sign of infection, they’d reluctantly been willing to discharge him.
Now, though…he sort of wished he’d stayed.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—go home. Didn’t think he could ever step foot in that apartment again. Everything would’ve been cleaned up, but he could still picture it. The blood engrained into the walls, the carpet, the air… No matter how clean they got it, he would always be able to see where Vivian had died.
“You’ll stay with me,” Evan insisted, and Archer wasn’t about to argue. They planned to head to his parents’ house. Mr. and Mrs. Bishop said they were more than happy to have them stay awhile. Mrs. Bishop was a nurse; she could help keep an eye on Archer while he recovered.
First things first, though. Before they left town, he had one place he wanted to go.
The entire drive, Evan kept tight hold of his hand. Occasionally asking if he was okay, if he was in pain. By the third time he’d asked within the hour, Archer sighed in exasperation. “Evan.”
“Sorry.” Evan pursed his lips, frowning. “Just…you know. You seem distracted. Like something’s bothering you. Maybe that’s kind of a duh thing, but…”
Archer kept his gazed fixed on the rolling scenery and the setting sun outside his window. “Distracted,” he murmured. Trying to find the strength to be honest. No more lies, he had promised, and he fully intended on keeping that promise. “Thinking…”
“About?”
“Vivian.”
Silence.
Archer clarified, “Vivian told me Mom was right in thinking I’m a monster. I want—need—Mom to see that I’m not.”
Evan’s fingers squeezed his hand tight. He said nothing, and Archer preferred it that way.
Despite being dark out, the porch light of his mother’s house was off when they pulled up an hour later. Archer struggled with the overflowing mail in the mailbox, trying to balance on his crutches at the same time. Evan finally took the cluster of envelopes and ads out of his hands, unlocked the door for him, and let him hobble inside on his own. Taking the porch steps had already left him a little dizzy.
It was chilly inside. Evan was at his back, easing the door shut, looking around the entryway and peering into the living room to their left. It was the first time he’d seen Archer’s house. It would probably be the last.
Archer lingered there, fighting off nausea that was part nerves, part pain medication wearing off. He hadn’t spoken to his mother since the last time Evan had brought him here weeks ago. Wasn’t that enough of a sign nothing had changed between them? She didn’t care. She probably hated him more than ever after what he’d told her.
And yet every day in the hospital, he’d watched as Evan tried to call her to tell her what had happened. She never answered any of his messages.
Now the house was cold and uninviting. No warmer than the miserable thirty-five degrees outside. He limped down the entryway, poking his head into the kitchen—lights on—and yet everything was silent. No dishwasher, no washing machine, no television.
“Mom?”
Evan placed a hand to the small of his back, voice soft. “Maybe she’s out?”
“Maybe,” he agreed. They made their way to the back of the house where Archer pushed open the door to one of the bedrooms, ushering Evan inside.
“This is—was—mine.” Now his old room was mostly empty, save for his bed and a desk. He’d cleared out all his personal belongings when moving out for college, trying to do his mother a favor by leaving nothing behind.
For some reason, though, it struck him that the bed hadn’t been moved. Nothing in there had been. The bedding was still made his way. The rolling office chair sat at the exact angle he used to sit in and stare out the window. Mom was always complaining about the lack of storage she had in the house. Here, she had an entire room at her disposal…and seemingly hadn’t touched it.
Evan had wandered over to the window, hands in his pockets, peering outside. He looked out of place. Archer felt wrong being here. Or maybe it was a general feeling of wrongness about everything in the house. Something he couldn’t place. Evan looked over his shoulder, frowning.
“Archer? What is it?”
His stomach flip-flopped a little. He turned, slipped back into the hall.
“Mom!”
Silence. Never-ending silence.
The farther he moved down the hall to her bedroom, the thicker the air got. Beneath the cold, there was an undercurrent of something he recognized, something he shoved to the back of his head. He knocked on her door and, when she didn’t answer, pushed it open.
The television was on, muted, casting eerie shadows across the dark room. Something about it reminded him of Mickey’s apartment the night he died. The lack of light, the chill in the air, the putrid scent that hit him as soon as he opened the door and the way his heart wouldn’t get out of his throat.
The mail piling up. The porch light.
Something was wrong. Something was…
He stopped. Stared down at darkened blotches of carpet that surrounded and led away from his mother’s rotting body, face-down on the floor.
Evan grabbed him around the waist as he tried to move forward. Dragging him back, trying to pull him out of the room.
“I prov
ed it. I proved it, you’ll see for yourself,” Vivian had said. “I took care of you like you always took care of me.”
She’d told him, and he hadn’t listened.
He broke the silence, screaming.
Friday, April 22nd
Even after all those months, Evan still couldn’t get the look of Archer’s face, staring at his dead mother, out of his head.
Everything had moved so fast. Archer collapsing, trying to reach for her. Whatever fragile thread that’d been holding him together after everything he’d been through seemed to snap, and it was all Evan could do to grab him, hold him, keep him there while he called the police. Trying desperately not to let Archer do something stupid like touch the body and get his fingerprints everywhere.
The paramedics got there first. He couldn’t get Archer to stop sobbing and screaming; the EMTs got a needle in him, sedating him before he could hurt himself or someone else. All the while, Evan kept thinking… Please, God, don’t let them think he did this.
They didn’t. The timing was too perfect. The bullet in Mrs. Pond’s head matched the gun Vivian had used on Mickey, on Archer, on herself.
After that they took Archer to a place called Carriage Oaks, and Evan asked them to keep him as long as they legally could. Not because he wanted to leave him, not because he thought Archer was crazy, but because…
He couldn’t help. He was useless, and he knew it. Archer needed something more than him.
For the first two months, Archer didn’t speak to anyone. He stared at the walls, the ceiling, out the windows. Unmoving, silent. Only when Evan visited did he show any signs of life. Even then his responses were distant at best.
“She told me she had done something to prove she loved me more,” Archer had murmured at one point, not looking at him, his voice so painfully soft it broke Evan’s heart all over again. “I promised Mom I would never hurt her, would never let anyone hurt her, but this happened because of me. Vivian said it. She said, you’ll see for yourself…and it kept bothering me. She said it, you’ll see for yourself…”
No amount of reassuring him it wasn’t his fault seemed to help. When he tried, Archer stopped talking altogether. It was better to keep quiet, to let him speak when he wanted to speak.
“…I was supposed to keep her safe. I can’t keep anyone safe.” He bowed his head, fingers laced behind his neck. Curling in on himself like he might shake to pieces if he didn’t.
Other than him, Dr. Deb was the only person Archer would talk to in the entire place. She was a pretty lady with long blonde hair. Evan thought it was because she reminded him of Vivian’s mother.
She was the one who led Evan through the building, making small talk. Asking how he was, if he was looking forward to summer. Little things. Things she asked him every time she saw him. The weather was nice enough that Archer was outside, and Dr. Deb stopped Evan just inside the double doors at the end of the hall. An orderly shuffled by, and she purposely didn’t speak until he had disappeared down the corner.
“I just thought you should know,” she said softly, “he told me.”
Immediately, a knot formed in Evan’s chest. But he smiled his best good-boy smile, the one he’d perfected in the past months. The one he gave to everyone who talked to him about Vivian and Archer, and he knew he’d better gear up to remember their story. The lies he would have to remember for the rest of his life.
“Told you what?”
“Everything.” She paused, watched him.
The smile faltered and slipped right off his face.
“Okay.” What else did he say to that?
“I knew he wasn’t telling me everything, and if he wants to leave, he needs to be completely honest with someone.”
Evan nodded slowly, but still kept his silence. Waiting for her to get to the point.
“Archer will never be normal. If he leaves here with you, I sincerely hope you’re ready for all the complications that come with it. That’s all I wanted to say.” She shrugged, reached out and pushed the door, holding it open for him.
“Trust me, I know.” How could he not? Evan had a feeling even the dear doctor had no idea what went through Archer’s head sometimes. The bad days where Archer spent his visits with his head in Evan’s lap, too wracked with guilt over his mother’s death to speak.
Even if he were in for a lifetime of that, Evan was ready for it.
Managing a weak smile and a nod, he stepped outside and into the cool spring afternoon.
“And, Mr. Bishop?”
He looked back.
Dr. Deb lifted a hand, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun. “If you’re worried about what he told me…don’t be. It’s all doctor-patient confidentiality. His honesty is a start, but he’s got a long way to go. I won’t be signing those release papers until Archer’s ready. Understand?”
“Yes. Thank you.” And he meant it.
The door fell shut. He let out a puff of air, the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and the tension in his shoulders went with it.
It was nice being able to look forward to his visits. In the beginning, Archer had made a scene whenever he tried to leave. Panicking, grabbing hold of Evan’s hand and begging him to stay. After those first two months wherein Archer dropped weight, hardly spoke and hardly slept, something seemed to click in his brain. It had been after Dr. Deb started working with him that he began improving. She’d taken one look at Archer’s tantrum when Evan tried to leave one day and said, “He’s not coming back until you start cooperating.”
It’d been hell, staying away for three weeks until Archer was permitted to call him, and Archer asked, hesitant, quiet, “Will you come see me?”
And he had. Of course he had.
After that, things slowly got better. Archer started talking. Stopped fighting everyone and everything.
God, it seemed like forever ago, though. Now, when Evan approached the spot where Archer had sprawled out in the grass with a book, barefoot, in a t-shirt and jeans, Evan thought he looked more normal than he had in…ever.
He plopped down to the grass beside him, leaning over, whispering, “Don’t tell my boyfriend I said this…but you sure are pretty.”
Archer smacked him in the leg with his book and brought it back up to his face, not missing a beat. After a minute, though, he lowered it, peering over the top, only his pale eyes visible. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Thought I’d surprise you.” Evan leaned over him, tugging the book away so he could see his face properly. He definitely seemed to be gaining back some of that lost weight, but there were still dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping much.
Archer pursed his lips, thoughtful. “Dr. Deb said I’m doing well. Might be able to go home soon.”
They both knew better. Archer had buried too many secrets—done too many things—to get out of here anytime soon. Though, maybe soon was his way of reassuring Evan, letting him know an end was in sight. “Wait for me a little longer,” Archer had told him more than once.
Like Evan was going anywhere after all they’d been through.
Archer watched him, almost waiting for him to deny it. But Evan would just keep playing along, even when weeks turned to months to a year or however long it took. He would wait.
They hadn’t spoken about what would happen when Dr. Deb signed those release papers. Evan didn’t see a point. As far as he was concerned, the decision had already been made. “I move into our new place at the end of the month.”
Archer’s expression softened and smoothed. One corner of his mouth twitched up. “Try not to make too much of a mess before I’m there to keep it clean.”
“Oh, man. Dirty laundry and dishes everywhere.” He grinned wide, bowing down until their lips touched. Archer caught him by the back of the neck, holding him there. When they finally parted, it wasn’t by much and Evan smiled against his mouth. “Not much longer,” he whispered. “And then we have places to go, people to see, whales to
watch.”
Archer gave a soft, breathless sound not unlike a laugh. “Whales.”
The smile on Archer’s face was so infectious. He’d missed those smiles. To hell with all the people who thought Archer was a cold, unfeeling person; he felt more, loved more, than anyone Evan had ever known. “Yep. And dolphins.”
“Are we really?”
“Why not? We could use the vacation. You wanted to take them there, right? Your mom and Vivian?”
A brief look of pain crossed Archer’s face. It was no longer crippling, no longer rendering him incapable of even saying their names, but still present. Evan didn’t think it would ever really go away.
“I’m pretty sure spreading ashes over open water like that is illegal,” Archer said.
He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “You know, added to our current list of offenses, I don’t think it’s that big a deal.”
Archer’s eyes fell half-closed. “I’d like to, then. If it’s the last thing I can do for them…”
“Then we’ll make it happen. Me and you both. Whenever you’re ready.” Evan leaned down until their foreheads touched, refusing to break eye contact. “Stop thinking you’re alone in any of this.”
“You know, I won’t always be like this,” Archer murmured. “I’ll get out of here, and things will be how they should be. Better than before.”
“I know it. And I’ll be here, waiting for you.” Evan squeezed Archer’s hand, held his gaze until he was certain Archer got his meaning. Finally, Evan stole another kiss, grinned, then dragged Archer to his feet. “Now let’s go grab some lunch. You look like you could use some meat on those bones.”
Acknowledgements
This is the part where I thank my childhood heroes for spawning the chaotic hole that is my imagination, right? In that case, thank you to Saturday morning cartoons, an abundance of terribly dubbed anime, and video games.
In all seriousness…
The biggest thank-you goes to my wife. My muses are not complete without her, and I would have given up on the idea of HUSHED ever making it into print had she not given me the encouraging kick-to-the-rear I needed to sub to Entangled Publishing. You, my darling, are my inspiration. I suppose this entire book is dedicated to you because you do seem to love my sad, broken boys.