Hushed (18 page)

The bathroom was huge. Two other doors led in, one from the hall, another from what he assumed was another bedroom. Sam’s, maybe. He locked all doors but the one to Evan’s room. He felt weird showering in someone else’s home, but stripping out of his clothing left him feeling better. Less smothered and cleaner.

He turned the shower on as hot as he could tolerate it. The burn of it against his skin made him hiss and sigh all in the same breath. He fought to get a few stubborn bits of blood out from under his nails, scrubbing his skin raw, not relaxing until he was as clean as he could possibly get shy of soaking in bleach. He leaned into the wall, head bowed while the water beat against the tense muscles of his back and shoulders.

The bathroom door opened and shut again with a faint but definite
click
. He stiffened, listened. The shower door slid open and Evan stepped in behind him, wordless. Archer squeezed his eyes shut. A hand brushed his shoulder. Why did he always do that? Touch and go. It drove him crazy.

Then Evan’s arms were sliding around him and all complaints vanished. Archer drew in a sharp breath. He leaned back, savored Evan pressed so close. He could feel every contour, angle, muscle. Skin against skin. Healing and heartbreaking all at the same time.
What happened to ‘one day at a time’?
he wanted to ask, but it would’ve ruined the moment.

Evan’s hands splayed out against his stomach, smoothed up over his ribs to his chest. Tracing the lines of his body in that slow, uncertain way of his. Lips pressed to the curve of his neck, so inviting he couldn’t help but twist around, arms encircling Evan’s shoulders. Their mouths met once, brief and chaste. Then again, lingering and warm. The weight of Evan’s body pressed him back to the stark cold of the wall and it was a perfect place to be.

Evan’s fingers snaked into his hair. Archer closed his eyes, relying solely on touch and sound. Water. Breathing. Heat. Teeth grazed his pulse-point. Evan’s tongue dipped into the hollow of his throat, catching the water pooled there. He inhaled sharply. Evan winced, and Archer realized his nails were digging crevices into his shoulders. He loosened his grip, smoothing his fingers over the crescent-shaped grooves apologetically. Evan grinned against his skin. “You need to relax.”

Archer breathed deeply. How did he relax with those hands moving lower, smoothing over his stomach and hips and thighs. And when Evan touched him, it was all Archer could do to cling to him. He arched, but wanted to sink back into the wall and hide. He wanted to pull Evan closer. Wanted to push him away so he could breathe. The fiery ache seared through every inch of his body. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak beyond quietly begging Evan not to stop. This time he didn’t fight the uncontrollable trembling. Encouraging whispers tickled his ear. He shuddered, lips parting, and Evan caught him by the mouth to muffle the low sound rolling out of his throat.

He could have melted. Disappeared down the drain. Aftershocks sparked the tips of his nerves and made him shiver. He didn’t dare let go out of fear he’d sink to the bottom of the tub.

Evan’s mouth ghosted over his own. “See? Much better.”

Archer couldn’t find the words. Nothing coherent, anyway. Evan slowly drew back and Archer whimpered, reluctant let him go. He slumped, but managed to stay standing. The shower felt lukewarm now. It took a few tries, but he managed to turn the faucet off and step ungracefully out of the shower.

Evan fetched towels. He used one to briefly dry off then tuck around his waist. The second, he let drop open and turned to Archer. He felt stupidly childlike stepping into the waiting towel, but Evan’s hands lifted, pushed his wet hair back and kissed his forehead before moving away.

They found their way back into the bedroom, locking doors as they went. Evan caught hold of him, backed him up to the bed until his legs bumped the mattress and he sank down. Evan slid the towel off of Archer’s shoulders, lifting and smoothing it over his hair. Doing little to effectively dry it, but it felt nice all the same.

Soon they were buried beneath two layers of covers that would never be as warm as Evan was. Archer buried his face against the curve of his damp throat, soaking in the scent of water and whatever-it-was Evan smelled of that he could never quite place. Fresh air. Ocean. Hope. Did hope have a scent? If it did, it would’ve smelled like Evan.

“Get some rest now.” That voice, barely above a whisper, made him want to stay awake. He would fall asleep and wake to find it was all a dream. But in the comfort of that room and away from everything in his life he’d grown to hate, fighting sleep was difficult.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispered.

Evan kissed his brow, and Archer thought he felt his mouth pulled into a small smile. “It’s all right. One day at a time.”

He sighed. That was good enough for him.

Saturday, November 1
^st

Archer vaguely remembered dreaming of Marissa. No—not just Marissa, but his mother and Vivian, too. Vivian as he remembered her in grade school. The four of them on a beach outing, and he and Viv wrestled in the sand while Marissa and Mom sat on towels and talked.

Looking back on it, Archer remembered his mom trying to comfort Marissa.
‘It’ll be fine. Don’t worry until they get the test results back.’
At the time, Archer had wrinkled his nose and thought,
‘Why is she worried about a test? Didn’t she study?’
right before Vivian dumped a handful of sand down his swim trunks.

It wasn’t until he and Vivian were older that she sat them down at the kitchen table and explained. So calmly, so rationally, like it was no big deal.

His younger self tore up the beach in tears, desperately trying to get the sand off. Marissa gathered him into her arms and laughed.

Archer tried to hold onto that memory, that time when nothing mattered beyond whether he’d get to go to the park or have hot dogs for dinner. A time where his mother took him to the zoo once a month just to get away from his dad. Where Vivian ditched school to bring him chicken soup when he was at home sick.

The dream slipped away little by little, until he was left with only the image of Marissa’s smile. It was jerked out of his grasp as a heavy body landed on top of him with a
whump
.

Archer tried lifting his head, sucking in a breath. Evan laid across him, pinning him face-down into the mattress. Were he just a few pounds lighter, Archer could have thrown him off.

Evan grinned. “Rise and shine.”

He planted his face into his pillow.
“Get off.”

The mattress rocked as Evan prodded at him, fingers digging into his sides and under his arms until Archer reflexively jerked an elbow back into his ribs. It got him a yelp, but Evan didn’t relent.

“Up, up up up.”

“I’m not doing anything if you don’t get off of me,” he growled. Evan laughed and rolled away. Archer felt his back pop in a few choice places as he sat up. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven.” Evan folded his arms behind his head. He hadn’t gotten dressed yet beyond a pair of black boxers imprinted with moons and stars. “You were sleeping so heavy I didn’t want to wake you. Figured you needed it.”

Any other day, Archer would’ve been annoyed to have slept so late. But Evan was right; he’d needed it, and he felt better. Less monster, more human. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and was rubbing them awake when he heard his cell vibrating on the nightstand.
When did that get there?
He lowered his hands and stared at it.

“S’been doing that for a few hours,” Evan said. “I didn’t think I should answer it.”

No. No, that would’ve been a terrible idea. He clenched his jaw and reached for the phone. Not like he needed to look; who else would it be? Though there were no texts or voice mail. Just missed calls.

Evan lifted an eyebrow. “Going to pick up?”

“No.” Archer sighed. The phone was tossed to the end of the bed. “She can wait. I don’t know what to say to her right now anyway. Maybe…it’s better if I don’t call her back at all.” Strangely, the idea of never speaking to her again didn’t hurt as badly as he thought it would. Maybe because
this
Vivian, he didn’t miss. He missed the old Vivian, and he was trying to come to terms with the fact the girl he loved had been dead for a long time.

Evan rubbed the back of his neck. “I know this is going to sound completely contradictory to everything I’ve been saying…”

“Great
.
”

“…But for now, I think you should try to avoid rocking the boat too much. Just until you know how she’s going to react to all this.”

In other words,
don’t piss her off.
Archer ran a hand down his face, tired all over again. Would Vivian tell? He didn’t think so. Then again, he hadn’t thought she would shoot someone, either. Every day she did something else to surprise him. “So. Make nice-nice until…what?”

“I don’t know. If the cops come asking you questions, you’ll have to tell them the truth.”

Turn her over, he meant. Let them lock her away. Could he do that?

“No one saw you there, right? And if you didn’t leave any evidence behind, then even with Viv’s word they can’t get you for it.” Evan sounded so hopeful. Archer wondered which one of them he was trying to convince.

“She used
my
gun.”

“So?” Evan scooted closer, gathering one of Archer’s hands up in his own, squeezing it. “She spent time at your apartment. You knew what was going on with Mickey hitting her, you wanted her to have protection… Hell, tell them she stole it.”

Maybe his reassurance worked. A little. Still, if Vivian ratted him out and the cops looked closer,
would
there be anything there to tie him to Mickey’s murder? Or any of the ones before? And the fact that Evan was suggesting to him ways to get away with murder—literally—made his stomach turn.

“Do I have to call her back now?” he asked grudgingly.

Evan gave him the ghost of a smile. “Well, there
is
breakfast waiting for us downstairs.”

§

Mrs. Bishop made enough food to feed a small army. Archer stared at the table and she laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “If you think Evan eats a lot, wait until you see his father.”

Archer ate quietly, answering questions politely and otherwise opting to listen. Watch. Observe. Evan’s family was louder than he usually cared for. But he didn’t mind it so much. They were warm, friendly, and nobody pushed him into awkward conversation. They reserved that for Evan.

Well, at first, anyway.

“So, Archer, maybe you can shed some light on something for us,” Mr. Bishop said, only after devouring his second plate of food. “Evan won’t tell us a thing about this girl he’s seeing at school.”

Evan choked on his eggs. Archer blinked slowly. He glanced sideways at Evan.
A
girl
. They didn’t know? “What?”

“Well, he hinted there was someone special he went to school with,” Mr. Bishop frowned thoughtfully, ignoring his son. “But he wouldn’t tell us the details.”

Sam clapped her brother sharply on the back while he coughed and relearned how to breathe. “Maybe because it’s not a girl.”

Silence. All eyes went to Sam. Archer tried to place their expressions. Tense? Uncomfortable? Was it something that would get Evan tossed out of the house? His own mother would’ve disowned him in a heartbeat. One more excuse for her to hate him.

“Well,” Mrs. Bishop said slowly, “I’m sure whether it’s a boy or girl… Evan would be comfortable enough to tell us.”

That didn’t say much. Just because they would listen didn’t mean they’d be
happy
that Evan had a—what were they, even? Boyfriend sounded so grade-school. Lover sounded so cheesy romance novel.

“That’s great.” Sam picked up her napkin, wiping at her mouth. “Then you won’t mind me bringing my girlfriend next time I visit.”

Evan’s head snapped around to stare at her in shock. “Girlfriend? Like,
girlfriend
, or girl-that’s-a-friend?”

Sam nodded, playing it off like it was no big deal. Maybe for her, it wasn’t. “Yep.”

“You’re a lesbian?”

“Are we really going to start labeling each other, little brother?” Sam gave him a knowing look. “I like guys just fine. It just so happens that I like this girl more.”

Archer watched Mr. and Mrs. Bishop’s faces, morphing from confused to uncertain to…he wasn’t sure. Not anger, not disgust. Finally, Mr. Bishop chuckled. “Our kids always did want to be different. Bring her out next time you come home, Sam.”

He spoke without thinking. “It doesn’t bother you…?”

Mrs. Bishop smiled. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t strange. I think most parents want their children to grow up…normal, I guess? Get married, have kids of their own, never have to be different enough for other people to treat them cruelly.” She patted his arm. “But they’re our children. We love them no matter what.”

He felt stupid for asking. Of course any good parent would say that. Marissa would’ve been happy for him; she was a good mom. His own, though…

Or maybe it’s just me.

At least for the time being, all the focus left Evan and settled on Sam and her girlfriend. At some point as they ate, Archer caught Sam’s eye and she winked at him.

§

“Why didn’t you call me?”
Vivian demanded after breakfast.
“I’ve been freaking out. You could’ve at least answered your phone.”

Archer stood in front of Evan’s bedroom window, gazing outside. Gray clouds swamped the sky in angry dark swatches, threatening rain. Mimicking Vivian’s mood. He wasn’t looking forward to driving back home tomorrow and facing her. Dealing with her on the phone was one thing, in person was another. “I was exhausted. I hope you didn’t go home.”

“I stayed in a hotel,”
she said sullenly.
“And before you ask, yeah, I used a fake name.
I’m not stupid.”

He closed his eyes. “Did you pay with a credit card that has your name on it?” No answer. Sigh. “Forget it. Just…try to lie low. If someone had seen you I imagine they would’ve arrested you by now, so maybe you got lucky.”

“
Why are you saying it like I’m the only one they’d be after?
” Her voice took on a defensive tone.

Archer wanted to tell her it was because he hadn’t been stupid enough to touch the bodies or shoot someone in an occupied apartment building. But he needed to play nice, like Evan had instructed him. At least until they knew how Vivian would handle this. As it was, every word out of her mouth made her more and more a stranger to him.

He took a breath. “I shouldn’t have taken you over there. I’m sorry.”

“
You wouldn’t tell anyone on me, would you, Archer? I mean, we’d both get in trouble. But you wouldn’t rat me out, right?”

No. No, he didn’t
want
to do that. He didn’t want to see her behind bars. It would crush him. He could picture Marissa turning over in her grave at the mere thought of her little Vivi locked up. “Look, I need you to listen to what I’m telling you and we can hope we’ll get lucky. If they find your DNA on the bed or whatever, it could be pointed out that you two were together recently. So long as there’s nothing on his body–”

“
But I touched him!
”

“–or if the fingerprints are too smudged for them to make out, we’ll have a better shot. Just don’t draw attention to yourself right now, do you understand? Don’t look up the story online or buy a newspaper. Don’t mention it to anyone.” He paused, waiting until Vivian made a small noise of acknowledgment before continuing. “If the cops come by, don’t tell them you and Mick were arguing. Make up a story about the bruises on your face…and be careful about saying too much. They like to keep the information they let out to the media limited, so the minor details can better be used to link the murder to the killer. Got all that?”

“
Yeah.
” Vivian sniffled. She was crying.
“Yeah, I got all that. When can I see you?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll call when I’m there and we’ll talk more. Until then, just…try to act normal. That includes not blowing up my phone.”

They said their good-byes and Archer turned off his cell completely. He pocketed it and turned to meet Evan’s sympathetic eyes. It was hard for him to deal with Vivian. It was hard for Evan to have to watch him dealing with Vivian.

“I feel like there’s no end to any of this,” Archer said.

“There will be.” Evan stood. “We’ll figure it out. Just gotta take some time and let the dust settle. Like you told her—let’s not draw attention to ourselves.” He wrapped his arms around Archer’s shoulders and squeezed. He grunted, awkward with the affection, but it wasn’t bad. He touched a hand to Evan’s arm.

“Act normal, right. Then let’s get out of here; you said you wanted to take me sight-seeing.” What there was to see in a town like this, he didn’t know. But it would be interesting to get a better feel for the place where Evan grew up. They headed downstairs, where Sam caught them before they escaped out the front door.

“You
are
going to have to tell Mom and Dad eventually, you know.”

Evan froze with his hand on the knob, twisting around to stare at his sister. “What?”

Sam leaned against the archway connecting the entryway to the living room. “Don’t you ‘what’ me; you know what I’m talking about.” She leered at them. “Bringing your boyfriend home and not even properly introducing him to the fam… They’ll jump all over you for that one.”

Archer’s face burned. So she
did
know. “Then why did you cover for him at breakfast?”