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“Nope. Sociology.”
“My mistake,” Richard replies, darting a quick glance at Glen. “I think that’s your brother.”
“Stepbrother,” I counter because there’s a chance I’ll end up with Troy’s dick in my mouth, so it’s important I stress the truth of our relationship. “I’m the disappointment.”
“Atlas,” Glen says, warning in his voice. He turns to Richard and starts bragging about my grades and how proud he is of me, like he gives a fuck about me at all.
I tough it out as long as I can before I say, “I need to go to the restroom,” which is a lie. What I need to do is find Troy because he’s been missing for a while, and something feels off about that.
I head into the house but don’t see anyone. I go through the kitchen, living room, family room, and don’t see Troy anywhere.
Where the fuck is he?I wonder as I make my way upstairs. All the doors are closed, but somehow I know Troy is behind his. It’s like I can sense him there.
I don’t bother knocking and just go inside. He’s lying on his bed, tossing a football up in the air. “I’m not in the mood, A.”
“How did you know it’s me? You didn’t even look up.”
“Just do.” He sets the ball down, and my stupid brain starts to wonder if somehow he can sense me the way I can sense him, which is a totally fucked-up—and ridiculous—thought.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He stands, then goes to the window and looks out. “I think they’re going to do cake soon. We should go.”
“Fuck cake. What’s wrong?” My hands curl into fists, which probably isn’t a healthy reaction, but did some stupid motherfucker at this party say something to hurt him? Bring up his brother or say some homophobic shit? Troy isn’t the type to sit in his room and hide for no reason. “What. The. Fuck. Happened?” I ask again, letting him know I’m not going to let this go.
“Drop it, Atlas.” He turns around and tries to push past me to get to the door, but I block him.
“I’ll make a scene if you don’t tell me. You know I will.”Why do you care what these people think? You’re better than them.“Who hurt you?”
I can practically see the thoughts stumble in his head. His pupils go a little wide, clearly not having expected me to ask that, and honestly, that makes two of us.
“No one. Not really. It’s just…” He runs a hand through his hair, and this time when he tries to step away from me, I let him. I can tell he’s not going to try and leave again. Troy paces when he’s upset. “I heard Sabine talking to Margot about Mom and Glen…about how they met…and then talking shit about Brandon. Fuck them. They don’t have the right to talk about my brother like that. It’s just shitty. Do they have nothing better to do than gossip about people’s tragedies? They’re at Mom’s birthday party, yet they’re trading stories about how our parentsgot together and what happened to—” He stops in his tracks, and my whole body goes cold. The way he glances away tells me they said something that’s really going to pissmeoff, something he didn’t mean for me to know.
“What the fuck did they say?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. They’re assholes.”
“Tell me. Now.” I’m shaking, and I hate that he sees me like this, but if those people said something about my mom, I’m going to lose it.
Troy’s gaze softens, sadness in the chestnut brown of his eyes. “They don’t matter.”
“Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll go ask Sabine.” I go for the door, just manage to pull it open before Troy shuts it again. He presses his palm to it, and I know I can pull it open, but for some reason I don’t. His chest is against my back, his breath on my neck, and I nearly fucking tremble. Not because of him, of course, but because of this, the situation. “Tell me. You can’t keep me in here all night, and if you don’t tell me, at some point I’ll go down there and find out.”
“Margot said she heard she killed herself.”
I close my eyes, trying to see anything but red. The shaking is back, and this time, it’s uncontrollable. My insides feel like they’re cracking apart, my head spinning. The thing is, they could be right. We’ll never know, and while I don’t want to believe it, that possibility is one of the reasons I can never forgive Glen.
“I’m sorry,” Troy says close to my ear.
I don’t move. Can’t. If I do, I’m going to go downstairs and tell everyone at this party what I think about them, or I’m going to end up trashing Troy’s room. It’s not a healthy response, I know that, but they don’t deserve to have her name in their mouths. They don’t have the right to talk about my mom like that.
God, I miss her.
“Atlas?” Troy asks, and I don’t know what it is about hearing him say my name again, but I try to jerk the door open. He slams it shut and wraps his arms around me, trying to wrestle me away from it. We hit the nightstand, knocking a lamp off, before Troy manages to tackle me to the bed.
I thrust my body, trying to break free of his hold. He’s straddling me, hands holding my arms.
“You’re not going down there.”
