Find Me (23 page)

“Wick?”

I crack open the bathroom door. “Coming!”

Yeah, sure. Coming. And what are you going to say when they see you?

I lean my head against the bathroom door as my brain chugs through all my excuses, all my lies . . . and I can’t come up with anything they’ll believe.

Except for the truth. I could tell them about Joe, about my dad. The police would arrest both of them.

And then they’ll arrest me.

Maybe.
Probably.
By confessing, I would hand Carson my ass on a platter. If I’m lucky, I would get a deal, but our dad would be put away for good.

Except he got away last time.

He always gets away. Then I would be locked up and Lily would be alone, and he’s taken out his anger on her before. He’s punished me by punishing her.

And even if he doesn’t get away from them again, there’s always the man who got Tessa. He’s still there. I can’t protect Lily. I can’t protect anything I love.

But maybe Bren and Todd could.

Because she’d be safe with them. That’s the way it’s supposed to work. People like them don’t have these problems.

But Tessa came from a wealthy family too, and look what happened to her. There’s some evil you just can’t catch, because no one recognizes it. I know all about that.

“Wick!”

“Coming!” I wrench open the door before I can find an excuse to keep hiding, but I still have to keep one hand on the banister going down the stairs so my knees don’t buckle.

I don’t even make it to the landing before I see Lily coming up. Something’s wrong. Badly. She’s gone pale. Her eyes meet mine.

“Lil, what is it?”

“Bren,” Lily whispers. She’s close enough now that I can see she’s shaking. “She wants to talk to you about a photo that was on Tessa Waye’s Facebook page.”

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Helped my mom with her scrapbooking today,
and it really made her happy. I usually refuse to do
that crap, but this time it was kind of soothing.
I think I’m really starting to enjoy cutting things into pieces.

—Page 37 of Tessa Waye’s diary

In the kitchen, Bren is baking. Both ovens are still going, even though the counters are covered in muffins and cookies. The room smells like brown sugar and vanilla. It’s a happy scene, something torn from a Martha Stewart magazine, and yet Bren looks two seconds from an implosion.

“Wick!” She flings down her cookbook and rushes over, pulling me into her arms. Stunned, I let her. “I’ve wanted to wake you for ages! How are you feeling?”

“Um.” This was not the reception I was expecting, and for a very long moment, all I can do is blink.

Bren puts the back of her hand to my forehead like I have a fever. “I’m glad you had a chance to lie down. Lauren told me what happened. You have to be more careful, Wick.” Both hands go to Bren’s hips. If she spread her feet a little wider apart, she’d look like Wonder Woman’s suburban twin. “You know how I’ve told you and told you to pick up your feet.”

What?
The tone—accusatory and disappointed—is more familiar, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Maybe if you wouldn’t shuffle, you wouldn’t slip, Wick.”

Shuffle? Slip?
My sister gives me the world’s smallest nod. I get it. She called Lauren. They made something up.

And here I was, thinking my baby sister couldn’t lie.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s just us. We’re a team again, and my heart grows wings. But then, just as quickly, I think about how Lily had to cover for me, how she had to lie.

And I’m ashamed of myself. How can I say I want to save my sister when she has to become a liar like me?

I have to tell them everything. I look at Bren—and Lily interrupts. “Wick says she doesn’t know anything about the picture, Bren.”

I never said anything. When Lily told me Bren knew, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Lily’s eyes are huge and hard. We don’t need words right now. She’s willing me to go along with her.

Reluctantly, I turn to Bren. “What picture?”

“Well.” Our foster mom fidgets with her Kiss the Cook apron, ties the front knot a little tighter. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t see the picture myself. I just heard about it from Detective Carson. He came by last night to talk about Tessa Waye’s Facebook page.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Apparently, there’s a really bad rash of cyberbullying going on at your school. People have been trading threats on Tessa’s wall, but as of last night, everything was deleted.”

Lily sits up a little. “They deleted the account?”

“
Someone
did.” Bren’s tone turns ominous, and briefly, her eyes settle on me and I think she knows. But just as quickly, her gaze jerks away. She doesn’t suspect me. She has no idea what’s living under her roof.

“What really worries me is the picture of Lily,” Bren continues. “I don’t know who took it. I don’t know why it was there, but I want
answers
.”

Jesus. Bren sounds like she’s about to start one of her contract negotiations. She’s kicking into Executive Bren mode, which is ten times more demanding than Regular Bren.

“Does Detective Carson have any suspects?”

“No, and while they’re investigating, we’re going to take a trip.” Bren sounds breezy, but underneath there’s a razor edge. “Just the three of us. I think we all need some time to, you know, get closer as a family.”

I have no idea what Bren has in mind, but my stomach is already sinking.

“What about Todd?” I ask.

“Todd can’t come.” Bren unties her apron and folds it into a tight square. “His counseling sessions have doubled since Tessa’s suicide. It’s important for him to be here, but we’re leaving. We’ll stay in Atlanta so we’re in time to catch an early flight to San Francisco. We’ll stay for a week. Let the detective do his job.”

Bren’s smile is so wide now I know it’s fake. I recognize the look. Her smile is just like my mom’s when she kept telling us everything was fine, just like my teachers’ when they said Lily and I would be okay.

Bren stretches
that
smile until her eyes narrow. “Start packing. I want us gone by tonight.”

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I think I’ve found a solution. It’s three stories
up and no one is watching the fire escape.

—Page 54 of Tessa Waye’s diary

Go? I can’t
go
. Running won’t change anything. It might even make it worse. Our dad’s returned, Tessa’s attacker is closer than ever, and Carson isn’t doing anything with the diary. Now is not the time for me to take off.

“I can’t go, Bren. I have school.”

“Well, yes.” Bren won’t look at me, but her words march forward in a perfectly rehearsed line. “But they’ll understand, Wick. I’ll write you a note. You can make up the work later.”

Holy shit, she’s really serious.

“I can’t make the work up later,” I lie. “I have a project that’s due for my computer class. I’m on a team. They’re counting on me to be there.”

The corners of Bren’s mouth pull down. “That class is so demanding, Wick. I think we should look around for something else. Maybe you should diversify a bit. Take an art class, or maybe try out for one of the teams. You would be a fantastic cheerleader. You’re so small you could be a flyer!”

“I don’t like the cheerleaders.”
And they really don’t like me.

“You like Lauren.” Bren reaches for me, straightens the hem of my shirt. “And, maybe, if you would just—”

“Don’t!” I explode, way, way angrier than I expected. “Just don’t, Bren. I’m not some pet project. People can’t be fixed.”

She blinks. “Are you broken?”

Of course.
“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” Bren echoes softly. “That’s good. I’m glad, though I don’t think anyone can get to adulthood without a few cracks.” She gives me a small, shy, totally un-Bren-like smile. Suddenly, she isn’t the woman who runs a million-dollar corporation. She’s someone I don’t recognize. “It makes sense that you’re the unbroken one, Wick. I think you might be the strongest person I know. Nothing scares you.”

You have no idea, lady.
I’ve been very, very careful to keep it that way. It was supposed to be a good thing. It
is
a good thing. Except that now . . . now I want to explain. But there are too many lies between us.

I stare at Bren and feel ten thousand miles away. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“I can see that.” The oven buzzer goes off, beeping like a perky fire alarm, but Bren barely seems to notice. “I want us to be friends, Wick. I want . . . I want us to be more than friends. I spoke to your social worker about drawing up adoption papers.”

And just like that, I feel like I’ve been dropped from three stories up.

“You spoke to her about
what
?”

“Adoption papers. I want to adopt both of you. I want you.
We
want you.”

Not if you really knew who I am and what I’ve done.

“I always wanted kids,” Bren continues shakily. “But I couldn’t . . . have them. For years, I just couldn’t understand why I was so unlucky, but now I get it. I was supposed to wait for you. It was you all along, you and Lily.”

Bren’s eyes are shining. “I know Todd wanted to be here when I told you, but he’s still helping Principal Matthews, and I wanted you to know, and now that dreadful picture went up and we have to go.”

Go.
I force myself to breathe.
We’re back to that again.

And maybe that’s where we need to stay. If they’re in San Francisco, they would be safer than if they were here. I need Bren to take Lily.

“I know you still have a dad, Wick, but Todd would love to be your father too.”

My dad. Another reason they need to go and I need to stay. Because there’s nowhere I can run that our dad will not follow. Getting close to Bren only gives him someone else to hurt.

“So what do you think?” Bren asks softly. “What do you say?”

“About the adoption? Or about the trip?” Stupid questions, but they buy me time, give me a few more seconds to savor what it feels like to be wanted.

Bren nods. “Both. Either. No,
both
. I want your answer on
both
.”

Any way you look at it, it all comes down the same answer: no. No, I can’t leave. No, I can’t involve them. No, this won’t work. No. No. No.

But if I say yes, I’ll have what I want. I’ll get away. I’ll have Bren and Lily.

I’ll . . . I’ll be a coward.

“I’ll think about it, Bren.”

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