Page 173 of 4 Corinthians

“Say it again,” I said, locking eyes with him. “Say it again!”

“Your grandparents killed your parents,” he said. His jaw flexed, and the vein in his forehead throbbed. His face was flush from the pain, but he was trying to hold strong. “They are responsible for your parents’ death.”

“Why?”

“Because they knew what they were doing.”

I looked around the table. No one would look at me, which told me that Tulane wasn’t lying. My grandparents knew what was going on. I’d been protecting them from a truth they already knew.

“Corinthians,” Bradon said from beside me. I don’t know when he moved, but his standing next to me was Tulane’s only saving grace. I wanted to climb across the table and wrap my hands around his throat. I didn’t plan to let go until I was sure his soul left his body. I looked at Bradon’s hand on my arm and then into his eyes.

“They knew?” I asked even though I could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn’t want to lie to me.

“Let’s talk,” he replied.

I shook my head, let out a small laugh, then pulled my knife from Tulane’s hand. He quickly took off his jacket and wrapped his hand.

“We didn’t want you to find out like that,” Micah Stone said. He cut his eyes to Tulane. “We agreed they would be the ones to tell you.”

“I don’t want to hear anything else,” I said, stepping away from the table. “I keep to myself. I don’t bother anyone. I’m never around y’all. I want to keep it that way.” I dropped my blade into my purse, then picked it up. “Nothing changes.” I looked at Bradon. Uri wasn’t here; I needed him. Doing this meeting without him was a mistake.

“Corinthians”

“I need to go see my grandparents,” I told him. “I need to hear them say they knew.”

***

I sat in my grandparents' driveway, wanting my heart to slow down. My mouth was dry, and my stomach kept twisting. I was scared but angry. Once Tulane dropped the bomb that my grandparents killed my parents, I was done. I needed to talk to them. Look them in their eyes and hear them say they knew and let us suffer. I loved them more than I loved my parents, but right now I hated them just as much.

Psalms texted me earlier and said that she was at Cross’s house with Judah, hanging out with a few of the cousins. So, I knew my grandparents were alone.

I closed my eyes, rested my head against the headrest, and took a deep breath. Their knowing changed everything. I’d spent years thinking I protected them from the truth. If what Tulane said was true, then they were no better than my parents. Even though my eyes were closed, I felt tears roll down my face. I quickly wiped them away. This wasn’t the time or place for them. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, then turned off my car and got out.

I rang the doorbell, then waited before using my key to unlock the door. I opened it and looked around. There was a light on in the living room. I walked in, then closed and locked the door behind me.

“Madea?” I called out, not moving from by the door. They didn’t know I was coming. Pissed or not, the last thing I wanted to do was walk in on them fucking.

“Living room,” she called out. I adjusted my purse on my shoulder then headed to the living room.

They were sitting on the couch, TV off. Madea was leaning against Granddaddy, her attention on her Kindle, while Granddaddy sat back on the couch, his attention on his word search book.

“Hey,” Madea greeted me. She set her Kindle down and got up, with her arms out for a hug.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “I came to talk to y’all about something,” I said, looking between the two of them.

“Something wrong?” she asked. Her eyes quickly swept over me. “What happened?” She turned to Granddaddy. “Call the boys, tell them to get over here.”

“Let her talk before you decide to do something, Mary,” Granddaddy chuckled and shook his head. He turned back to me. “What’s going on, Corinthians? Why you look like that?”

“Did you kill my parents?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I sat in the chair behind me. They didn’t hesitate—their answer, loud and clear with no remorse in it. I stared into my grandmother’s eyes, ones so much like Cross’s, and waited. I don’t know what I was waiting for. No, that was a lie; yes, I did. I was waiting for a sign of remorse. But it never came. She didn’t feel shit. I looked at my grandfather, and his eyes were the same.

“You want to know why?” she asked, and I nodded. “Because we figured out they were abusing you and your sister.”

I sat back in my seat and let out a deep breath. “When?”