Текст книги "Betrayal "
Автор книги: Aleatha Romig
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
The look of complete shock quickly morphed to amusement. “Can you repeat that?”
I unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned closer to his ear. With purposely breathy words, I repeated, “I can’t remove something I’m not wearing. You can do everything you said. I’m not wearing anything to stop it, and,” after a kiss to his cheek, I added, “I don’t want to stop you.”
With his large hands framing my face, he stared into my eyes, and I nodded, trying to tell him with my eyes that I trusted him and was being truthful. Somehow our fantasies had become one. A moan filled the evening air as he forcefully pulled me toward him. Our lips united as his tongue probed, willing mine to part. His kiss was mint and whiskey, invigorating and calm. Nox was a walking contrast, a dichotomy of everything I’d known and everything I thought I’d wanted. His unique combination of force and tenderness should be illegal, because with just one taste I was instantly addicted. I scooted closer like the addict I was.
“Damn,” he said when our lips parted. “I’m thinking about forgetting those reservations for table 101,”
I read about table 101 when I’d Googled 333 Pacific. The website said that it was famous for its view and needed to be booked far in advance. How did Nox get that table? Who did he work for?
I wanted the reservation, but I also wanted other things. Tonight was up to him—I’d already agreed to that. Nevertheless, I did my best to sound bold. “If you do that,” I said seductively, licking my bruised lips. “Then I won’t be able to do all the things you mentioned: the table, the seat beside you, the sea breeze.” Saying them made my insides tingle with anticipation.
“No, but I know of other things I want too.”
Rearranging my dress, I sat back into the deep bucket seat. And with a sideways glance, simply stated, “Me too.”
“Oh fuck!” Gravel flew as he threw the car into reverse and spun us toward Oceanside. “To the fastest dinner in history.”
My laugh resonated from deep inside as the sky’s golden hues combined with the purple. I wasn’t sitting in a fancy car. I was floating in the colors, overwhelmed with the euphoria of Nox. I wished I could bottle the sensation and save it for the future. In that moment, I doubted I’d ever feel this empowered and desired again.
THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN Alton, Suzanna, and Bryce stilled when we entered. I held my breath as my mother closed the door.
“Apparently you forgot to check your watch,” Alton said. “Or is it an issue with telling time?”
“What is this—?”
“Five minutes, Alexandria. Five minutes. It seems a college degree has done little for your ability to follow simple instructions.”
“I was told to play nice and be polite to the guests. That’s what I was doing. You’re not a guest and playing nice isn’t in your repertoire.”
My mother stepped forward. “Alton, we’re here now. I realize this is my fault.”
I narrowed my eyes trying to comprehend the conversation. Her fault?
“Yes, Laide, it is, and we’ll discuss that later.”
My mother shifted as she looked from person to person. Both Suzanna and Bryce met her gaze, but in true Savannah style their expressions revealed nothing.
“Would someone tell me what’s going on?”
Mother led me toward the conference table. It wasn’t as large as a corporate conference table, but it was dark, glossy, and ostentatiously regal. It fit in Alton’s office perfectly. There were four leather chairs on each side and one at each end. The ones at the end had arms and resembled small thrones. When I was little it helped to perpetuate my princess theory. It was probably the table my grandfather had and his father before that. Despite the heritage, I hated that table almost as much as I loathed my bedroom. Each time throughout my childhood when I was caught or accused of wrongdoing, my correction began with a family conference at this table. There were three of us—three. Sitting at this giant-ass table was ridiculous. It was part of Alton’s power play, his demonstration of strength. When I was five, it probably worked. By the time I was old enough to understand overcompensation, I found it humorous.
I stopped walking and laughed. I wasn’t five nor was I seventeen. The Spencers weren’t family, and we weren’t discussing my correction. This was pure bullshit.
My forced laughter filled the room. “Are you all out of your minds?” I moved my outstretched hand toward each person. “What is this? I’m not sitting. I’m not doing anything. And if you want me to go back out to those guests—my guests, ha!… If you want me to go back out there and play the dutiful daughter then someone better answer some damn questions.”
“Alexandria—”
“Alex,” I corrected my mother.
“Alex,” Bryce offered. The years of our friendship rippled through the sound of his voice as he said my name. But that quickly disappeared when I looked at him and remembered the rest of our story, after our friendship.
Bryce had grown up well in the past four years. His shoulders were broader, his chin was defined, and his light blonde hair longer than I remembered. It wasn’t too long, but had a slight wave I’d never noticed when we were younger. He was a swimmer at the academy and had always kept it short. Over the past few years, his lean swimmer’s body had broadened. That wasn’t to say he was heavy. The weight looked good on him, or maybe it was the suit. He definitely looked the part of a Montague minion, all the way to his Italian loafers.
“Hi, Bryce.”
He took a step toward me. “I wish we had more time to explain.”
I shook my head. “Explain what?”
“We have a situation, something that you can help with. Something I’d—we’d—like you to do.”
My mother nodded while Suzanna and Alton shared an expression somewhere between pain and disgust.
I forced another laugh. “A situation? Does this have anything to do with the senator or perhaps the man you were speaking to?”
“No, not really,” Alton offered. “It has more to do with Bryce.”
“I don’t understand. How can I help? We haven’t spoken in four years.”
“No one needs to know that,” Bryce said.
The entire scenario didn’t make sense.
“Alexandria,” Mother began. “Do you follow the news?”
“The news?” I repeated incredulously.
Suzanna exhaled and leaned back against the edge of Alton’s desk, her arms crossed over her chest.
Finally, Alton sat at the table and began to fill in the blanks. As he spoke, I stared at Bryce and tried to judge if any of what Alton was saying were true. By both Mother’s and Suzanna’s expressions, I believed every word. With each sentence, my desire to stand diminished, and my legs grew weaker. Eventually, I collapsed into a chair at the table I despised. By the time Alton was done, all five of us were seated: Alton, Mother, and I in our assigned spots with Suzanna next to Mother and Bryce at the other end.
No matter the severity of the shitstorm blowing around us, Montague Manor had its hierarchy and it didn’t matter that Adelaide and I were the only true Montagues, males still perched like proud peacocks at the top. This place was a prison—an eighteenth-century torture chamber.
I needed to call Chelsea as soon as I could. If anyone could break me out, it was she.
Alton explained that an undergraduate student, a woman, who attended Northwestern, claimed that she and Bryce had been in a relationship last semester. Booth was in Chicago, near Northwestern.
She claimed that Bryce assaulted her, physically and sexually. She went to the police, and they took pictures of her bruises. The rape kit showed sexual activity, but the only DNA was a hair, and Bryce didn’t deny consensual sex. He did deny harming her. Montague attorneys have gotten the unfounded and unsubstantiated charges dropped, and a gag order in place. Unfortunately, about a week ago, someone leaked the story in an on-campus publication at Northwestern, during an early freshman orientation. The author of the article cited the incident as an example of a continued cover-up by university officials regarding sexual abuse of female students. No names were listed in the article. Alton believes that the author was aware of the gag order and didn’t want to pay the excessive fine. However, that didn’t stop other outlets from picking up the story. It was immediately run by a Chicago network and within hours was plastered all over social and news media.
The description of the perpetrator was vague, but there have been reporters sniffing around. The human resources and publicists for Montague suggested withdrawing the offer to employ Bryce, but Alton wouldn’t hear of that. Bryce continued to claim his innocence and Alton believed him. As CEO of Montague Corporation, Alton insisted that they find another way to lessen any possible negative impact to Montague Corporation if the full story were to be released.
The temperature of the room rose as everyone turned toward me.
“Darling,” Mother began. “This is your name, your company. You’ve had your time to see the world.”
I could scarcely believe my ears. “California is hardly the world.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean.” I looked around the table. “I don’t know what any of you want from me.”
Bryce cleared his throat. “Alex-x,” he stuttered, not completing my whole name. “I didn’t do it. You know me. You know who I am. No one knows that we haven’t been in contact.”
I did know him, and that didn’t reassure me.
When I didn’t answer, he went on, “Sure, I took that girl out on a few dates, and yes, we had sex, but look at me. Look at my family and the job I had waiting. I’m not only a Spencer but also a Carmichael. I don’t need to force anyone for sex. Why would I risk everything over some piece-of-trash college freshman?”
My stomach turned. “Freshman? Like eighteen?”
“Yes, she was legal.”
Oh God. That wasn’t where I was going with that. I may only be twenty-three, but Bryce was twenty-five, almost twenty-six. That was an eight-year difference. I pressed my lips into a straight line, reviving my Montague mask, the one that revealed nothing.
“Alexandria, dear,” Suzanna’s angry tone from the parlor had been replaced with saccharine sweetness—as artificial as ever. She wanted something from me and suddenly, we were friends again. “I’ve been upset with you, as you know, because your choice to move to the other side of the country upset my son. Once you have children, you’ll understand how we mothers feel everything our children do, but even more intensely.”
“How did it feel to rape a girl?” I asked.
Suzanna and Mother gasped, both sitting straight as if my words had the power to physically harm them. Simultaneously, the room echoed with the slap of Alton’s hand against the shiny wood. “Alexandria!”
Bryce’s brief look of anger magically morphed to hurt. I remembered seeing that transformation once before—no, more than once actually. It was that time I told him about Stanford that the anger lasted longer than a short moment, but there were other times I’d seen him upset, when we were young and then as teenagers. Did I think Bryce Spencer was capable of physical assault? Yes. An incident at the academy came to mind when he’d used a younger student as a punching bag simply because he’d made some comment about swimmers. If I recalled correctly, that incident was quickly brushed under the proverbial rug as well. After all, universities like Princeton and Duke didn’t look kindly at applications from students with records.
Did I think Bryce would hit a woman—a girl? I didn’t know.
With large gray puppy-dog eyes, Bryce asked, “Alex, how long did we date?”
Date? Was it still dating when he was at Duke and I was forbidden from seeing anyone else? Forbidden, or exiled?
“From the time I was fourteen until I graduated: four years,” I answered.
“How long were we friends before that?”
“Our whole lives.”
“How many times did we have sex?”
Are you kidding me?
I felt my cheeks redden, but not from embarrassment—from anger. “What the hell? You want to have this conversation in front of our parents?” I was too upset to separate Alton from that generalization.
“Yes,” Bryce replied. “I do. If I remember, we had the same conversation many times, alone.”
It was my turn to slap the table. “I’m not having this discussion with you again, alone or in front of an audience. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, Alexandria. It does. I dated you for four years. You were my best friend. I miss you. Mom was right. I was devastated when you left for Stanford. I just prayed that you’d realize where you belong—back here with me. I didn’t follow you out to California because I knew you needed to make that choice yourself. It’s like that poem you always liked. Remember the one about loving something and setting it free?
“You were free,” he went on. “Now you’re back, and I want to resume where we left off. Why would I risk losing that by raping some gold-digging tramp?”
Disgust emanated from my eyes. I felt it. For not the first time in my life, I wished looks could kill. Bryce wanted us back together but more than that, he wanted me to help with his cover. That was why he’d said that no one knew we weren’t in contact.
“Never. Never. Never!” I said each word louder than the one before. “We never had sex, and we never will. So if you’re waiting for me, you should go ahead and screw every young thing out there. However,” I added, lowering my voice a decibel, “you might want to get their consent first. It’ll cut down on the legal fees. And I don’t plan on being your alibi.”
“Dear, lower your voice. You don’t want our guests to hear you.”
“Our guests, the people who we’re rudely ignoring. Are those the guests you’re referring to?”
“She’s right, Laide,” Alton said. “You and Suzanna go back out to the guests. Let them know that Alexandria will be out shortly, and we have an announcement.”
Like dutiful Southern women, they both stood.
“Alton,” Suzanna said, “I think it would be better for Laide and I to talk to Alex.” She smiled my direction, as if using my preferred name won her points. “Woman to woman.”
This is absolutely unbelievable.
I stood. “I tell you what. I’ll go out to the guests. I only know about two-thirds of them,” I said, shrugging. “But that’s all right. Supposedly, they’re here to wish me well. The only announcement we’ll be making is that I’ll be leaving Savannah on Monday and currently have no plans to return.”
I turned toward the door and was halfway there when Alton’s command reverberated through the paneled room.
“Stop.”
Though my feet obeyed, I kept my eyes fixed on the door, refusing to turn back around.
“Bryce,” Alton said. “Your mother is probably right. Let’s give the ladies a few minutes. I’m sure Alexandria will make the best decision for her family, for Montague.”
I spun toward them all. “What in the hell decision do you think I’ll make? What exactly are you asking?”
“I told you that I had a ring—”
“No!” I cut Bryce off. “Hell no.”
“We can start slowly. We’ll just mention how we never really lost contact. We agreed to an open relationship, one where we could both mature.”
Open relationship. Nox’s confident demeanor as he offered to tell Max we had an open marriage came to mind. My attention went back to Bryce and I raised my eyebrows. “So we could mature? Is that code for something, because as I recall as soon as I was out of the picture—no, before I was out of the picture—you were maturing with Millie.”
“Those were only rumors, ones that she started because she was jealous.”
We were all now standing, and Suzanna reached for Bryce’s arm. “Dear, go with Alton. You two have clients out there. Let Laide and I have a moment with Alex. It seems like it wouldn’t hurt.”
When she looked back at me, I shrugged. What the hell? This whole messed-up family wanted to gang up on me; they wanted to betray me.
Let them give it their best shot.
ONCE THE MEN were gone, I gave my mother and godmother my best have-at-it look.
Suzanna began on the offensive. “Dear, men have needs. Did you really expect my son to remain celibate if you weren’t willing to help him out?”
“Help him out?” I asked incredulously. “Are you saying that if I wanted to keep your son, which I didn’t nor do I now, I should’ve helped out or put out at fourteen? Or maybe I should have waited until I was fifteen?”
“No,” Mother replied, her hand fluttering near her neck like it did when she was upset and it was missing its customary glass. “There are two sides to this. On the first side, the most important side,” she emphasized, “is that you are a woman of breeding. You did the right thing by abstaining. It’s just another reason I’m proud of you. But dear, one day you’ll need to help a man out, as Suzy said.”
I sat back down and crossed my arms over my chest. This was priceless. My mother decided to have the sex talk with me when I was twenty-three, in front of her best friend. After my high-school boyfriend forced the issue in front of all of our parents. Oh how rich. Adelaide always did have impeccable timing.
“Yes,” Suzanna agreed. “How do you think grandchildren are made?”
I shook my head. “You two are unbelievable. I’m not a virgin. I know how babies are made, and I know how to help a man out. What I don’t know is why you think I want that with Bryce.”
“You two were close.”
Were.
“And,” Suzanna went on, “this will benefit everyone. Once the press learns that Bryce has been in a long-term relationship, they’ll be less likely to assume he’s the man in that article.”
“But he is the man in the article,” I pointed out the obvious. “And we haven’t been in contact. If anyone digs, we’ll both look like we cheated on one another. And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of the absurdity of this whole thing. Whether he raped her or not, he had sex with a child.”
“She was of legal age,” Suzanna defended.
“He also screwed around on me with my best friend. It’s great you two have this lifelong friendship, but I have limits. My best friend screwing my boyfriend is one of them. Cheating is another. As far as I’m concerned Bryce and Millie can spend the rest of their lives sneaking quickies on the side. I don’t care. They just need to do it without me in the equation.”
My mother took my hand. “You’re not a virgin, but that doesn’t mean you understand the things that some men… need. They aren’t all proper.”
“Momma, don’t.” I was certain I’d vomit what little bit of food I’d eaten if she started to give me examples.
She shook her head. “It’s true. Isn’t it, Suzy?”
Suzanna nodded.
“Dear, if Bryce can get what he needs with Millie Ashmore or any other willing whore on the side, it will make your life better.”
I threw my hands in the air. “I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I’m not saying you need to marry him… yet. We’ll work our way up to that. For right now, the two of you can just be… what is it?… going steady?”
“You’re certifiable, both of you. I’m leaving in two days.”
“And you’ll be concentrating on your studies,” Suzanna said. “What harm is there in pretending?”
“Don’t you see,” Mother asked, “why attending Savannah Law would be better?”
No. I didn’t see that.
LEAVING ALTON’S OFFICE a few minutes later, flanked on either side by the women who were supposed to be my biggest advocates, felt more like being led to a firing squad. I hadn’t agreed to do anything except to decline to dispute the assertion that Bryce and I had been in contact over the last four years. Essentially what I agreed to was letting others make assumptions, not to perpetuating them myself. A cold chill ran through me as we entered the grand hall. This really was a dog and pony show and I was the one being led around by a lead.
As we mingled and passed the groupings of people, it was clear that the party had progressed without us. I ventured that most of the guests never realized we were missing. They probably assumed we were in one room or the other. Since night had fallen and Georgia’s summer heat had lost the glare of sun, guests socialized both inside and outside on the rear stone terraces.
Keeping my Montague mask in check, I moved from room to room until I spied him near the bar in the den. Each room had its own bartender and selection of food. From the strong aroma of Cajun spices, the den seemed to have a New Orleans theme. Earlier I’d eaten a little of the hors d’oeuvres in the parlor. Unfortunately, the tempura-battered oysters and blue crab beignets were probably all I’d be able to stomach tonight. My appetite was gone.
It wasn’t Bryce I had looked for; it was Alton. He was conversing with the same man Bryce had been speaking with earlier. Instead of interrupting, I stood behind the man, and with my lips pressed into a straight line made eye contact with my stepfather.
“Excuse me, Severus. My daughter needs me.”
I grimaced at both the label and sweaty grasp as he took my elbow and led me away. It took all of my self-control to remain composed until we reached a secluded corner of the room. Once we were there, the first thing I did was free my arm.
Before he could speak, I began, “I’m talking to you directly for one reason: I want you to understand that I’m not bluffing. If you go further than I want on this agreement, I will talk and I’ll talk loudly.”
His lip twitched before he asked, “What did you agree to do?”
“Bryce and I have stayed in touch. Now that I’ve returned to the East Coast, we have agreed to talk and see more of one another. That’s it,” I qualified. “Nothing more. No big announcement. No secretive, passionate love. Take it or leave it.”
Alton nodded at another guest I didn’t know and lowered his voice. Leaning closer he whispered, “Alexandria, I will not be threatened. I’ll take your offer—for now. This isn’t done, and when it all plays out, remember you have only yourself to blame.”
The fruity stench of his breath churned the seafood in my stomach, making the earlier acrobatics it had been doing a pleasant memory. “When what plays out?” I asked. “What do you mean, and why?”
People continued to move nearby. Alton’s liquor-stained teeth peered between his thin lips as he forced a smile. “Why what, dear?”
“Why go to all this trouble for Bryce?”
“We can discuss this at another more appropriate time. This isn’t the place.”
I kept my voice low and raised my brows. “I’m playing nice. Give me something. I want to know why.”
The hairs on the back of my neck came to attention as his large hand splayed across my shoulder. To the outside world—to people two feet away—we were a happy family, father and daughter, having a pleasant conversation. “Your mother,” he said. “She cares about Suzanna. It affects Montague Corporation.”
“Alton, I don’t mean to interrupt.” Senator Higgins’ booming voice rippled over my shoulder.
“Not at all, Grant. Alexandria and I can continue our talk another time. Isn’t that right, dear?”
Instead of responding, I turned toward the politician. “Senator, thank you for attending my party. It’s an honor to have you here.”
He shook my hand. As I was about to retrieve it, he held tight and said, “I’m always happy to meet with your dad and lovely mother, but tonight I’m pleased to meet one of the future litigators of our fine state.” He looked past me to Alton and back. “And such a pretty little one, too.”
Chauvinist!
I forced the tips of my pressed lips to rise. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me?”
He released my hand after a condescending pat. “Certainly, young lady. It was nice to meet you.”
My skin crawled as I walked away.
Alton never did tell me what would play out, and I sure as hell didn’t buy his answer about why he was helping Bryce. I didn’t. It didn’t make sense. This entire scenario didn’t need to negatively affect Montague Corporation. That was Alton’s call, at least from the story he’d told me. He could have agreed to withdraw Montague’s offer to employ Bryce. Most large companies had ethics clauses. Montague Corporation could have easily cited that as a reason to withdraw their earlier offer.
“Alexandria.”
I turned toward the kind voice.
“I have to warn you, you’re going to miss it.”
My Montague mask morphed into a real smile as I looked at Miss Betty. “Stanford, you mean?”
“Yes,” she replied wistfully, “and the freedom.”
“Freedom?”
She took another drink from her glass. Small bubbles moved upward in her sparkling wine. From her tone and the way she swayed slightly side to side, I presumed it wasn’t her first glass. Not everyone could hold their liquor like my mother. It also seemed that my alma mater had brought back memories that she’d tucked away.
She squeezed my hand. “You still have three more years. Take it from me, life happens too fast. Marriage, children, shit.” Her eyes popped open, and she playfully covered her mouth. “I didn’t say that aloud, did I?”
I giggled and shook my head. “Say what, Miss Betty? I didn’t hear a thing.”
“You, young lady, will go far. And I’m not just saying that because of Stanford.” She held onto my arm and scanned the grand hall. “This is such a lovely home. I’ve had a wonderful time, but I think it’s time I get my driver, and we head home.”
“Thank you for coming.”
I helped her to the door and made sure that one of the staff alerted her driver. I’d known Miss Betty most of my life, yet for the first time, it was as if I’d seen the real woman behind the mask.
Smoke and mirrors.
Dog and pony shows.
Why would anyone choose to live in this world of delusion?
Hearing my name, I turned toward a group of people. Shit! It was Millie, Ian, Jess, Leslie, two men I didn’t recognize, and Bryce. I’d been wrong earlier. Now, the show was about to start. Why the hell did it need to be with Bryce and Millie?
“ALEX, CAN WE talk?” Bryce asked with a grin. The small dimple on his chin revealed a glimpse of the boy who’d been my friend.
Most of the guests had left, Mother had retired to her suite, and Alton was in the den with some men whose names I couldn’t remember. The household staff as well as the caterers, were working tirelessly to clean away any evidence of the celebration. Soon Montague Manor would be exactly as it had been earlier today, last year, a hundred years ago.
I’d been ignoring Bryce for most of the party. Our story was that we’d spoken, not that we were close. Besides, standing by his side and talking with old academy friends was almost as appealing as a Brazilian wax. It only took me a single time to decide that wasn’t for me. I knew before I walked over to the group of vultures that I didn’t want to be among them.
He reached for my hand.
“We can talk,” I confirmed as I retrieved my hand. “Touching is prohibited.”
He nodded. “Some things never change.”
“Around here nothing changes.”
Warm air surrounded us as we walked out onto the back terrace. Stars dotted the night sky while the incessant hum of crickets replaced the clatter of dishes inside the house. Although I detested everything about Savannah and my childhood home, there was something peaceful about the leaden humidity and silence that came with the estate.
“Do you really plan on never returning?” Bryce asked. “I mean, I know you have memories. You never said exactly, but this is your home.” He spun around and looked up at the massive structure. “How could you not want to live here?”
I shrugged and brushed my hand along the rough stone banister. The large limestone steps descended to the lower lawns. Fireflies twinkled in the distance. When I was little I thought they were fairies, like Tinkerbell. I was convinced if I caught one, it would change into a fairy and grant me my wish. It was another childhood fantasy that didn’t come true.
The house was constructed on a hill, allowing it to oversee the vast land behind. Hundreds of years ago that land was filled with one-room houses, tobacco fields, stables, and barns. The old structures were gone, as if erasing that time in our family’s history was that easy. Now it was covered with the best that money could buy: a large pool, flower gardens, and better-constructed buildings. The biggest addition to the property was a lake.
Who can decide they want a lake and get a lake? A Montague can.
This time of year, the manmade creation would be nothing but a puddle in the Georgia clay if it weren’t for the pump that pulled water from the depths of the earth, filtering it through sand to keep the lake not only full, but fresh. It was still astonishing how well it worked, but near the turn of the twentieth century, when my great-great grandfather had it installed, it had been an amazing feat of engineering.
Nothing but the best at Montague Manor—on the surface at least.
I slipped off my shoes and stepped onto the perfectly manicured lawn. Even under the cover of night, Montague Manor was a beautiful prison. Trying to keep the shadows at bay, as Jane had said, I concentrated on fond memories. They were there. And as much as I hated to admit it, many of those from my childhood included Bryce.
“Do you remember swimming in the lake?” he asked.
I grinned. “Yes. Our mothers would get so mad. They were sure it wasn’t safe and wanted us in the pool instead.”
“Nessie,” we both said with a laugh.
“I think they were the ones who told us about her. You were never afraid of Nessie. I was,” Bryce admitted.
“You were? You never acted like it.”
“Because I’m a guy. Guys can’t show fear, and you were younger than me. I couldn’t let a little girl be braver than me.”
“I don’t know if it was so much being brave as it was defiant. And unbeknownst to my mother, Jane had explained the pump to me. So I knew the hum wasn’t really a monster.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? That would’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights.”
I softly laughed. “Because you never told me you were afraid.”
Bryce stopped walking a few feet from the shoreline. “I can still hear it. Can you?”
Camouflaged behind the crickets and occasional croaks of a toad, was a faint hum vibrating through the ground more than the air. “I can.”
Bryce reached for my hands and as I tried to pull them away, he said, “Alex, give me a second, please.”
Swallowing, I nodded.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“I-I’m not…”
“You are. More than you know. It was bad—the police, the station, the holding cell. I can’t go back. I can’t. I’m telling you what I’ve never told anyone. I was scared, more scared than I was of Nessie.”
