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It isn’t what Lily needs.
I’mnot what she needs.
Fuck.
“You should leave, Orion.” The anger seems to have dissipated just as quickly as it arrived.
She drops the T-shirt. Her shoulder sag forward as if the weight of the world is pushing down on her, suffocating her under its immense burden. Tears hang suspended on her lashes, but they don’t fall again.
“Lily, please…”
I have to fix this.Needto fix this.
I’m so, so sorry, Lily.
We screwed up.
I screwed up.
I understand if you’ll never be able to forgive us.
I’m sorry.
“You need to leave. Now.” She doesn’t raise her voice, but she doesn’t have to. Her desperation to escape me is written into every line of her perfect visage.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can think to say.
How inconsequential.
What can my words do to mend this hurt?
Absolutely nothing.
I finally understand the reason for Lily’s hatred and anger toward us…and it’s worse than I could’ve ever imagined. We deserve every ounce of her rage.
Maybe we can’t bring the dead back to life, but wecanhelp her find the murderer. She may not want our help, but she has it.
I debate telling my brothers about what I discovered before deciding I’ve meddled enough in Lily’s life for the time being. It’s apparent she doesn’t want us to know the truth, and I respect that.
Now, I just need to prove to Lily that I’m sorry for leaving her. Maybe then this gaping hole in my chest will close over.
Or maybe it’ll always remain, a physical reminder of my biggest mistake and the one nightmare I can’t kill.
14
FOURTEEN: LILY
Fuck.
Orion didn’t know about my parents.
He wouldn’t have been able to fake the pain in his voice. He’s not capable of it. He didn’t know. I’m certain of that. Which means that Jackson can’t know, either, because Orion wouldn’t have been able to keep that secret from his brother.
But that doesn’t make sense.
I remember that night like it happened yesterday. I remember the blood, the gore, the horror. I remember running outside to throw up on my front lawn as Brooks drove around the corner in that stupid Mustang of his.
I remember his eyes meeting mine, the way they hardened at the edges.
