“Yes,” I sniffle. “I’ve been seeing him.”
“Well, you were all wrong to think he left me anywhere,” Brady says. “Because from what I understand, and from what I believe happened that day—and trust me when I say I’ve had a long time to think about it—Grant is the one that left me there.”
“Grant?” my mother gasps.
“Yeah. There was a window, a small one, where he could’ve done something. When he heard the shots I fired at the dog, he should’ve come running and he didn’t. Do I think I was set up because I knew about the ivory?” he shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. It’s possible. But if it weren’t for Grant, we never would’ve been where we were anyway.”
I’m stunned, my mouth hanging open. I look at Pres and she’s as shocked as me.
“Can we kill him now?” she asks. I’d normally laugh, but I don’t think she’s kidding. And I don’t think I’d be adverse to the plan either.
“He’ll get his,” Brady says. “I have to be debriefed again in the morning because the guys that had me were terrorists. But between them and Fenton, I have no doubt Grant will be handled. We just need to let it play its course.”
I rub my hands down my face, trying to soak in all of this information. It’s all clear now, all of it making sense. But there’s still a hole in my heart and I can’t fill it . . . because he’s not here.
“What will happen to Fenton?” I ask, looking at my brother. “We were at dinner tonight and they came in and took him . . .”
“He expected it. I don’t think he knew when, and I don’t think he’d want them to do it in front of you,” Brady says. “But he warned me and told me they’d try to arrest him, but he’d already discussed it with his attorneys and nothing would stick. But Mandla, at a minimum, will be closed most likely.”
“Oh my God,” I say, my lip trembling. “It’s his mother’s company. He’ll be devastated.”
Brady grins. “He won’t be happy about it. But he’ll come out a winner. Trust me.”
I haven’t done this in a long time, but it’s exactly what I need.
The porch swing glides back, the chain squeaking a little as the wooden bench floats forward. Over and over again, the rhythm settling over my soul. The sky is a pretty blue, not a deep midnight color, but more of a light-up-from-behind kind of thing that makes it not seem quite three o’clock in the morning.
Presley is asleep upstairs in my childhood bedroom. Mom and Dad went to bed a couple of hours ago, right after Brady turned in. I was surprised Mom didn’t sleep outside his door, just so she could make sure he was there every time she woke up. I can’t blame her. It still seems unbelievable.
I tried to lie down, first in my bed and then on the couch, but I couldn’t find that sweet spot. Or maybe it’s that the sweet spot isn’t accessible to me right now because all I keep thinking of as I toss and turn is Fenton.
I watch the clouds sweep past the moon, almost like a hand is guiding it across the sky. I think of my brother snoring in the room above and how quickly things can change—both good and bad. He was here one day, gone the next. We’re so, so incredibly lucky to have him home again, but who knows what tomorrow holds? Things can change in an instant, your loved ones sucked away, your happiness taken, never to return.
My exhale breaks the stillness and I draw my legs up and wrap my arms around them. I notice the heart tattoo on my finger, my friendship token with Presley. I trace it with another finger and catch myself smiling. It makes me happy. Something so simple, so free—well, besides the twenty-four dollars it cost—means the world to me, makes my life better.
I swing back and forth and think to the other things that make me happy. None of them, not one, surprisingly, is a tangible thing. The feeling of my family together makes me happy. Smelling my mother’s house when I walked in earlier tonight made me happy. And images of a certain smirk, the scent of Fenton’s musk also make me ridiculously happy.
The sound of the door opening startles me. I look up to see Brady walking outside, his flannel pajama pants and red t-shirt looking rumpled.
“I thought I’d find you out here,” he yawns, slipping into the swing beside me.
“Why are you awake? I figured you’d sleep for days.”
He shrugs and I realize I’ve touched a nerve and I instantly regret saying that. “Every time I close my eyes, I listen for footsteps. It’s hard to turn off that feeling of being alert all the time, you know? And I haven’t had a mattress or a pillow for months.”
“I can’t imagine, Brady. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“I should’ve listened to you, I guess.” His shoulder bumps mine, making me laugh.
“You should’ve. I know everything, you know.”
“So, little sister, since you know everything, have you heard from Fenton?”
My spirits sink, my shoulders slumping forward. “No. I got a text from Duke—do you know him?”