Page 207 of Midnight Curfew

Macon’s brown eyes darken, and I don’t know if he’s pissed or just pissed he never knew. They were all aware I was in the house with her that day, but they assumed I was just as unaware as them.

I force down the pain in my throat. “I’d gotten so used to it being a threat that maybe I didn’t care anymore or maybe I didn’t think it was really happening.” I shake my head, afraid to look at Iron. At Liv. “But part of me wanted it to.” Tears spring up again, and I don’t know why. “I thought, maybe anything was better than the pain of losing Dad and the pain of our situation here, and maybe adding more pain would just make something give once and for all.”

I don’t know if it makes sense. It wasn’t a clear train of thought, but I just remember sitting on the stairs and not wanting her to suffer here anymore. Not wanting to be in this house like this anymore.

No one says anything, and I know it’s over now. They’ll never trust me again. Lifting my eyes, I meet Macon’s. “I ignored my suspicions,” I tell him. “I froze. I didn’t go to her.”

I wait for him to yell or punch me. I can stay long enough to get what I deserve, because just like that day on the stairs, I want it. If they hate me, the pain will be enough fuel to run.

But he doesn’t. He simply lowers his eyes and shakes his head a little. “I always wondered why she picked that day.” He glances over to Army. “She’d been alone with me, with him, by herself…But she picked you.”

“Because like you,” I tell him, “she knew she couldn’t count on me.”

“Or she knew you’d survive it.”

What does that mean? I was thirteen years old.

Macon looks at me, almost amused. “You don’t remember what she used to call you?”

No, I—

Then, I remember. “Everest,” I whisper, memories playing in my head. “Like I was difficult or impossible or…”

“Unshakable,” he says.

“Immovable,” Army adds.

Macon sighs, his body relaxing. “You never cried, Dallas.” He smiles a little. “Like, ever.” He gestures to himself and the others. “I had lots of emotions. Army was always empathetic. Trace definitely cried.”

“Fuck you,” my little brother grumbles as Iron tries to hide his smile.

Macon tells me, “You never cried.”

Because I was broken. Not normal. Not because I was unshakable or strong or grounded.

“She could’ve waited till she was alone,” Macon explains, “but she didn’t want to be alone. She waited till she was with you.”

Sadness slams me again, and I look away to fight the burn at the backs of my eyes.

“She was always going to do it, Dallas.”

“And I was never going to be what you wanted me to be,” I retort. “I don’t care about anyone.”

I wasn’t Everest then, and I’m not now. They love me, and they’re trying to make me feel better, but what I told Iron was correct. I wanted to keep the Bay out of Ames’s hands, not because I really gave a shit.

“I stayed because I wanted to beat him,” I point out, “not because I care about any of this, and I can’t stay anymore, knowing that piece of shit won. I’ll kill him. I’ll make it worse.”

“You can’t stay, because you’re hurting,” Iron tells me.

“No.”

“And you want to escape the pain,” he goes on. “Like you always do.”

“I don’t give a shit about any of this!” I cry.

“Then what do you want?” Army asks.

I dart my eyes to him. “Out!” I yell. “I want out of this house!”