Tangled Thoughts (37 page)

Had anything—
any damn thing
—in my life been true? Did my uncle love me, or just want to use me? Had he been helping me, or
shaping
me? And the worst: who was I, if not just like him? I'd spent years observing and emulating him, building the foundation of myself on his example.

God, I was such a fool.

And now, was I a murderer, or was he? Did it matter? I was what he made me.

It was my worst nightmare come true. I'd been made a weapon. I'd always believed my Thought Moving would eventually kill
me
, not others, not my
Godson
. For a while as I laid there on my couch, I wished it had. I wished I'd just turned myself in years ago and let the Council vote. None of this would have happened. I retrieved the bottle of Scotch I'd won off Manny and wondered how long it would take me to kill that too.

About half the bottle later, my door opened, startling me awake. “‘Lo?” Alexis stood in the doorway, twinkling in a silver sequin dress. It barely reached mid-thigh and looked like starlight. I rubbed my eyes. I could still be sleeping.

“Carter?” she said, as if she wasn't standing in my apartment.

“Hey, babe.” I didn't even slur that badly. “What are you doing here?”

She took a few steps inside and dropped her bags on the floor. “Your uncle just dropped me off. After the Pendergest dinner? Remember?”
Idiot
, her tone implied, and I knew I was awake. She sparkled into the spot on the couch next to me, a distraction even more beautiful than the Scotch. I put an arm around her, drawing her close. “What are
you
doing?”

I nodded at the bottle. “Having a drink.”

“
Alone
?”

“Not anymore,” I said and pulled her closer.

I
N THE
M
ORNING
, while Alexis and most of the city still slept, I ran. It was drizzling, gray and cold, making it a perfectly miserable day. My head pounded in time with my steps, thud, thud, thud, on the wet sidewalk. It was awful, running after drinking, but in the way black coffee and Scotch were awful. Which is to say, I didn't mind. I deserved it. It was less awful than thinking about—I forced myself to run faster.

But if anyone knew you couldn't outrun or drink away your thoughts,
I
did. They always caught up.
These
thoughts didn't so much catch as plow into me with the force of my entire world crumbling. All the things I'd lost pounded down on me, demanding to be acknowledged, starting with my Godson. My independence. My dignity. My thoughts. My trust. And Lainey. Selfish as it was, I couldn't stop thinking about her. He was responsible for that too; I knew it as well as I knew the words of her goodbye note.

Sometimes a puzzle piece fits
almost
perfectly, so you let it stay. You
want
it to stay. Until you realize, too long later, you were forcing it the entire time. I pulled out memories that were vague, or incomplete, or didn't quite line up.
Years
of them, since I was
thirteen
, up through the last few months. The inexplicable bullet hole in the shooting range wall. A tour bus wheel falling off the day after I'd lost minutes while looking at it. And finally: the fuzzy seconds at the gala, right before the person I'd trusted more than anyone in the world betrayed me.

I'd fallen to my knees on the stiff grass median, retching and shaking for God knew how long. Long enough for the back of my shirt to soak through. Long enough for a guy from the convenience store in front of which I crouched to become concerned.

I heard the door open and his few steps onto the sidewalk before his voice saying, “Kid, you okay?”

No, I was not okay. Did I fucking
look
okay? Anger boiled up from my empty stomach, but I realized it wasn't at this guy. What was I doing, cowering on the ground and crying? Drinking myself stupid and running away wouldn't change
anything
. I'd done enough fucking wallowing in the last year, in my whole
life
, and look where it had gotten me. I couldn't change anything, but I could do something better than
this
.

I looked up at the guy, shaking my head. “Not yet,” I said with a smile that felt grim, and dangerous. “But I will be.”

W
HEN
I
GOT
back to my apartment, Alexis was awake, balanced on the edge of the couch with her knees bent and feet propped on the coffee table. She grinned when I came through the door, but she looked bleary, her long legs bare as they descended from my t-shirt and her eyes smudged with yesterday's makeup. Usually I found this sexy, but today I found it painful.

“Ugh, why did we do that?” she said, nudging the mostly empty bottle in front of her with her toe. “I can't believe you
ran
. I think I missed a quiz this morning.” She ran her hand across her forehead and through her rumpled hair before holding it out for the coffee I carried.

“I fixed it, but be careful. It's hot.”

She sipped the sweet concoction with her eyes closed. “Mmmm, good job, babe.” Finally, she looked up. “Hey, you're soaked!”

I peeled off my top layer before sinking down next to her. “Your coffee waits for no weather.”

“You've been gone for, like, an
hour
.” More like two. She set her coffee on the table. “Carter, what's going on?”

“I need to go away for a few days.”

“What? Why?! Did something happen.”

“It's what's already happened,” I said, trying desperately not to lie to her. When you grew up keeping secrets for your own good, it became second nature. I didn't know how to stop. And I couldn't tell her
this
secret without telling her mine. She was safer if she didn't know. “I just…yesterday I realized I need a break. To work through it.”

“Oh, babe,” she said. She put her head on my shoulder and hand on my knee. “You should have done this before.”

“I wasn't ready before.”

“Are you going home? How long will you be gone?”

“A few days. I'll miss you.” I cleared my throat, unsure how to say what I wanted to say. “Listen, do me a favor while I'm gone? Don't spend too much time around my uncle.”

Her head snapped up and her forehead wrinkled. “What?”

“I just…I'm worried about you. After what happened. That it could happen again, and you'd be there.”

Lex smiled, broad and true and so big her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Why Carter Penrose,” she said in her best Scarlet O'Hara. “If I'm not mistaken, you're trying to say you love me.”

I looked back at her for a long time, memorizing that smile and the beautiful tangle of things that added up to her and only
her
. “Maybe,” I said, “I am.”

But it was too late.

I knew what I needed to do. And where I would start.

Lainey

R
idiculous as it was, pretty much the only rule I still abided by was the one I'd set for myself at the beginning of the year: no staying at my apartment during the week. I hardly stayed there at all. The weird thing was, Jack didn't seem to mind. Amy had been right about the advantages of having a single.

“This brings back memories,” Jack said. He had a book in his lap as he sat behind me on my extra-long twin bed.

“Spent a lot of time studying in girls' rooms, did you?” Sometimes I forgot Jack was a student, too. All TAs were. He never seemed overly concerned about it. But then, he rarely seemed concerned about anything.

“That was
definitely
the best place to study. You couldn't do
this
in the library.” He tossed his book aside and grabbed me around the waist, dragging me backward to nuzzle his face into my neck. He made a long inhale as I settled against him. “There. This is perfect.”

I giggled. “What about your studying?”

“I'd much rather study this,” he said, kissing my neck. “And
these
.” Quick as a thief, his hand dashed up my shirt.

I squeaked and swatted at him. “Before you can study
that
, I have to study
this
.” I shook my Finance book. “I don't have much time left.”

He turned his face into my skin and sighed. “You worry too much.”

“Lately, I don't worry enough,” I said without planning to. The truth always found its own way out.

“Everyone understands.”

I frowned. Not exactly. I'd blown Amy off last week, but her words still echoed in my head. Finally, I said, “I—I want, no
need
to pass my exams. It's important to me.” As long as I passed my exams, I'd pass for the semester.

He nodded, holding me tighter, and we stayed like that. After a moment of quiet, he said, “Have you thought about it anymore? The Perceptum, I mean.”

I stiffened, but didn't pull away. Yes, I'd thought about it. I'd been thinking about it more and more after the funeral, and pretty much non-stop since Jack had told me he was taking the Council intern offer. Up until a month ago, I truly believed I'd
never
, never ever ever, be able to do what they wanted. But something in me changed as I watched them lower my brother into the ground. The need not just to
do something
, but something that
mattered
, swelled in my heart until it burst into my arteries and spread, filling me with the crackling restlessness I'd since been mollifying with partying and drinking and Jack and sex.

In fact, it would be so easy to just turn around, drop my book and lift my shirt, and let Jack “study” me so I wouldn't have to talk or think about any of this anymore. But my mouth had spoken the truth once tonight and it wanted to keep going.

“Yeah,” I said. “I've thought about it. I'm…considering.”

I felt Jack's eyelashes brush my skin as his eyes popped open. “You are?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” I repeated, softer. Part of me couldn't believe I was about to say this, but the rest, the hot, angry center blistering in my chest, knew it was true. “I am. I'm ready to talk to them.”

Jack inhaled hard, the breath rushing against my neck in a cold breeze, and his arms tightened around me until they were almost too tight. “Thank you,” he whispered, so soft I almost didn't hear it.

And then he kissed me, and I heard that loud and clear. My Finance book slipped from my fingers and landed with a thud.

L
ATER,
I
FELT
myself slipping toward sleep and didn't bother to fight it. Jack shut off the light and I snuggled into his arms, tired, warm, and content. My eyes drifted closed.

“Lainey.” Jack's voice. I felt it, like a breath in my ear, or a whisper in my brain.

“Hmmm?”

It was quiet for a long time before: “I love you.”

Was I dreaming? Was I awake? I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure I'd heard those words or just thought them. But I knew they'd been there, below the surface, waiting to be said.
Love
. Jack loved me.

“I lo—”

“
Lainey
.” It wasn't Jack this time. It was Kendra's voice, outside the door. She was tapping, quiet but insistent. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and felt Jack sit up too. “
Lainey
,” she whispered again. She sounded so urgent.

“Coming,” I called softly and got out of bed.

Behind me, Jack murmured, “What's going on?”

“I don't know. Kendra needs me.” I threw on my robe without turning on the light and slipped out the door. Kendra's eyes were wide
and startled. From the fresh charcoal on her hands, I could tell she hadn't been sleeping. “What's wrong?”

Her eyes slid from me to the front of the apartment and back. “There's someone at the door for you,” she said, still whispering despite that everyone in the apartment was awake, like she was telling me a secret.

“What?” How odd. “Right now? I didn't hear the bell.”

“He didn't ring it.”

He?
Amy was the only person I knew who'd show up unannounced and she wasn't exactly speaking to me at the moment. “Who is it?” I asked.

Kendra opened her mouth and then shook her head. “Maybe you could just go talk to him? He seems kind of…upset.”

Confused yet curious, I tightened my robe and tiptoed to the door. I didn't know why we were being so quiet but I couldn't stop. I cracked the door open and a tall, tall boy with blonde-brown hair folded himself off the wall at the sound.

Oh. My. God.

“Lainey,” he said. He was whispering too.

Oh. My. God. I must have been dreaming.

“Lainey,” Carter repeated. “Please. I have to talk to you.”

My shock broke, and I gasped in a stuttering breath. “Carter? What are you
doing
here?”

He ran a hand over his short hair once, twice, three times, like he couldn't stop himself. “I really need to talk to you,” he said again. “Please. Just listen.”

I pushed the door open a little further, drenching him in light, and had to stifle another gasp. He looked like
hell
, with plum-colored circles under his eyes and deep lines that should
not
have been on his young face. Like he hadn't slept in a week.

“Please.” Carter touched my arm, where I was still holding the door handle, and I jerked away from him, backing into the suite. He followed, though I wasn't sure I meant it as an invitation. “I'm sorry, it's late. I know I should have called or something but—”

“You shouldn't
be
here!” I said, backing up another step. I shook my head, trying to work some sense into it, and tightened my robe again. A desperate sense of fear was clawing down my throat and under my skin. Goosebumps jumped out on my arms and I hugged myself.

“I know,” Carter said. “I know, it's just, please. Lainey, I
know
. I know about my uncle, that something happened at the range, that—”