Page 39 of Coercion


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“It’s not your fault that the twins believed their dad.”Emerson drinks some of his beer, then looks at the label again like he’s making a note to buy some for his house.

“I know that.”

He meets my eyes.“No, you don’t.”

I scoff at him and look out the window instead.“I could have done something different.I could have—I don’t know.Said something different so they didn’t feel like they had to sneak out.”

“Is the dad a prick to them?”Sin’s arm is completely over his eyes now.He’s made himself comfortable on my couch.

“He used them as bait to get ransom money.”

“You know what I mean.Was he like Dad when he was around?”

Bits and pieces of a hundred different memories rush to the front of my mind.The dark, too-hot interior of a closet.Light, fading on the other side of the door.Pressure building in my head, and in my jaw.A fist curling into the collar of a shirt that had been washed so many times that it was crumbling at the seams.

“No.If he was like that, Bristol would have left a long time ago.”

“Then that’s why they believed him.And you know as well as we do that even if hewaslike Dad, they’d still try to help him.”Sinclair’s reasonable and calm and I hate him for it.

“The twins were gone at the end of the weekend.”Emerson’s eyes settle on my face.“Something else happened.”

Sinclair uncovers his eyes and sits up with a glance at Emerson.“Besides two kids getting held for ransom?”

My stomach turns over.I felt good before our mother showed up at the beach house.I was imagining a life with Bristol that didn’t involve being pissed off twenty-four hours a day.I want to be sick all over again at the idea of telling them, which means I have to get it over with, or else this is my life.

“Yeah.I found out Mom is alive.”

Emerson freezes.He just goes perfectly still, his hand balanced on the arm of the chair, his eyes on mine.This stillness is what shock looks like on him.

Sinclair leans forward, balancing his forearms on his knees, and lets out a distinctly un-shocked sigh.The air goes out of my lungs, then rushes back in until they feel like they’re about to pop.I feel like I could crush the beer bottle into sand.

“Yeah.”Sin shakes his hair out of his face and looks me in the eye.“I may have lied about that.I wanted to…spare your feelings.”

“Myfeelings?I don’t have any goddamn feelings.You said she was murdered, Sin.In the park.Murdered.I don’t have feelings about it.”I have so many feelings I might die.I’m furious with him.If I could be heartbroken, I’d be that, too.“I’m just saying that the truth would be nice.”

“The truth wouldn’t have helped anyone.”

“And you thought it was better to invent a fictional murder?What the fuck, Sin?You’re supposed to be a journalist.”

“I wasn’t a journalist when I was six.”

“No.Just a liar.”

He has the balls to look hurt, but Emerson un-freezes before Sin can say anything else.

“Alive?”Hedoesn’t look like he’s going to crush his beer bottle.“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.She showed up at the beach house on Saturday morning and tried to talk to me.Apparently Bristol met her outside the Hughes building a few weeks before, which is just—it’s great.I love that everyone has met her except me.At least Emerson remembers her.”

I don’t know whether I’m on fire or freezing.All I know is that it’s every inch of my skin, head to toe.

Emerson looks out the big picture window, then back at me.“Where is she now?”

“I have no idea.I told her to fuck off.”

It takes a lot for surprise to show on his face, but I’ve done it.Emerson’s eyes go wide.“But she’s our mom.”

“Sheleft.” I want to hit someone.Punch them right across the face.Even better if I can feel the blow land, too.Instead, I’m forced to settle for deep breathing and not punching a single thing.“I know this is a lot for you to deal with, but it’s fine that you’re losing your shit.”

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