Doug clamps his fingers tighter around my elbow. But there’s only so much manhandling he can do. It will only prove my point.
“Lexi, they were trying to run,” Doug says, annoyed. “We needed to make sure that Wylie got here, right? By the way, you said you could convince Wylie to get into the car without Jasper, remember? That was your job.” Doug’s voice is raised, and Lexi won’t look at him. “Then, guess what? There he was in our car. And one of us had to do something. I was just trying to get Wylie to leave with us alone, taking care of things the way I always do.”
“Right,” Lexi says quietly, staring down at the ground.
They are not a united front. Do I know that because I’m an Outlier? Is it really possible that’s the explanation for my overactive dread machine of a mind? That it’s the roar of other people’s feelings in my head, and not my own monsters?
No.
Yes.
I don’t know.
“Welcome back,” Stuart says when we finally reach the cabin. He makes a big show of taking his rifle in one hand and unlocking the door with the other to wave me inside. “They’ll be glad for the company. Been kind of awkward in there, just the two of them.”
The two of who? And the only person I see is Cassie, leaning up against the wall opposite the door, managing somehow to look pretty in the pale glow from the windows. But her arms are wrapped tight around her frail body like she’s bracing for a blow. I rush at her.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I say, but when I grab up her tiny body, it’s like her clothes are filled mostly with air.
I am still holding Cassie when I hear the door close and the bolt thud shut.
“I’m so sorry, Wylie,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“None of this is your fault,” I say. It’s Quentin’s, or my dad’s, or maybe even mine. But not hers.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Another voice. This one behind me. We are not alone. When I turn, Jasper is sitting in the shadows along the far wall.
“Jasper!” I feel such a surge of relief. Like we’re as good as saved. But then I see his face in the half-light—bruised and swollen, a cut over his eye. “What happened to you?”
“Doug,” he says. He motions to his face. “He was more about the fists this time.”
“Why didn’t they just let you leave?” It’s a terrible sign, I know. For all of us. “You didn’t even know anything yet.”
“Because I wasn’t leaving,” he says. “After Cassie told me—” His voice cuts off like he can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence. “I was pissed and I needed some air, but I wasn’t going to leave. In the middle of all this? Anyway, Doug just came out of nowhere. Made up for what he didn’t finish outside that bathroom.”
“Those assholes,” I whisper. He winces and pulls away when I reach out toward his face.
“It looks worse than it is,” Jasper says, and totally unconvincingly. “Did you seriously think I would just leave without even saying good-bye?”
I look over at Cassie. I don’t want to sell her out, but she was the person who told me that. Repeatedly. Maybe she was hoping that Jasper did leave. “I must have—I guess I misunderstood.”
“Seems like there’s a lot of that going around.” Jasper shoots a vicious look in Cassie’s direction. “Why don’t you tell her, Cassie? Tell Wylie about all the misunderstandings.”
That does not sound good. It sounds like more than I want to know.
Cassie closes her eyes and rests her head against the wall, then shakes it back and forth. “If I had known—” Her voice cracks.
“There was another guy. I was right about that,” Jasper says when Cassie stays silent. “And boy, did she pick a winner.”
Okay. I do know about the other guy. Maybe none of this will be news to me. But my stomach is already a fist. And that is not because I am some Outlier. It is because I know Cassie. And with Cassie, there is always something worse.
“What is Jasper talking about?” I ask.
“I met him the way I said,” she begins. And her voice is so small. “All of that was true. He came into Holy Cow when I was working, and he ordered a chocolate milk shake and sat at the bar and we talked for a while.”
“This was while she and I were dating, by the way,” Jasper interjects as he pushes himself to his feet and goes to stare out the window. Lit up in the pale-gray light, his face looks even worse. Cassie closes her eyes and hangs her head, but doesn’t argue. “Sorry, continue.” He motions to her, then turns and looks at me. “Wait, it gets so much better.”
“It wasn’t until he—”
“Wait, he who?”
Because it’s obvious that this is the essential fact.
Cassie opens her eyes and looks up at me. “Quentin,” she whispers, the tears finally sliding down her face. “I met Quentin.”
No, I think. But I can’t manage to make a sound. No.
I want to cover my ears. I want to run.