Unknown Number:lol that’s all you can come up with? Already sent. At least he knows the truth about you
My entire body goes cold. Fingers, arms, the back of my neck, all the blood draining down and away from me.
Please, God, no.
June:You didn’t.
Unknown Number:lol
I break into a sprint.
My sneakers slap the cobblestone as I run through campus, dodging a student carrying a portfolio case and nearly slamminginto someone coming out of the library. I call Carter while I’m running.
He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, cuz?—”
“Have you seen Aeron?” I’m breathing so hard the words come out forced. “Is he home? Have you seen him?”
“Yeah.” Carter sounds bewildered. “He’s in the kitchen with your mom.”
I hang up.
Oh no.Are they having it out? Did he confront her? Is my mother sitting at the kitchen island in tears trying to explain herself while Aeron throws those twisted diary entries at her?
I run as fast as my legs can go. My lungs and thighs are screaming. The maples along the street blur past.
If he read them without context, if he thinksMom never wanted him, if he thinks I wish he was never born, it will break him. But none of it is true the way those images present it; I have to tell him that.
I reach the house and burst through the front door.
Carter is on the couch in gym shorts and a faded tee, his legs stretched across the cushions, hair still messy from sleep. He’s holding a glass of orange juice that he shakes so violently at my entrance it sloshes across his shirt and lap.
“Jesus!” He sits upright, juice dripping from his hand onto the couch. “What’s the?—”
I don’t stop. I’m already through the living room and rounding the corner into the kitchen.
I freeze.
The kitchen is bathed in soft yellow light from the overhead fixture Mom keeps on its warmest setting. The room smells like butter and maple syrup. Aeron is sitting at the kitchen island with a plate of eggs and waffles, a fork halfway to his mouth. Mom is across the island from him, leaning on her elbows with her coffee mug cradled in both hands, curly hair pulled up in amessy clip. She’s wearing her lavender cardigan, the one that’s pilled at the elbows from years of wear. They were laughing about something a second ago. The tail end of it is still on both their faces.
When I burst in, Mom gasps and straightens. Her coffee sloshes. “What’s wrong, honey?”
I am speechless.
“Uh…” I blink at Aeron.
He’s not in a hoodie. He’s in a plain grey T-shirt and his face is fully visible. The hollowness in his cheeks is still there, but his expression is different. His eyes have color in them again and he looks rested. He looks like my brother from three months ago.
Actually, he looks like a much happier version.
He raises an eyebrow and then smirks. “What’s up? You’re acting like the house is on fire.”
I let out a breath that was trapped. My legs are trembling from the sprint and from relief.
I walk closer, trying to let my face relax. “Uh… did you get any strange texts this morning?”
He frowns. “No.”
Mom sets her mug down and comes around the island. “Honey, what is this about?” She pulls out the stool next to Aeron and guides me into it, then goes to the cabinet for a glass. She always brings me water when I’m flustered, as if hydration cures hysteria.
