55. Reed
The safe house isn't what I expected at all.
I'd pictured something underground, with concrete walls and security cameras.
Instead, Caden drives us toward a large house, tucked away at the end of a tree-lined road on the outskirts of the city.
The kind of place you'd drive past a hundred times without looking twice, and the only thing that stands out is the black SUV that waits outside.
It’s only when we get closer that I notice the two security guards standing by the front gate. Both give a small nod as Caden pulls into the driveway, and one of them moves to open my door before I can reach the handle.
“Mr. Lamont,” he greets me with a nod, and I hate how formal it sounds. “I’m Sebastian, I work for Mr. Blackwell.” I have no idea who that is, so I just force a smile of acknowledgement to my face, as he gestures for me to follow him to the front door.
When we push inside I am greeted by the smell of fresh coffee, taking me right back to this morning, but I push down the emotion it evokes, as I stare around the space.
It looks perfectly and entirely normal, like a regular family lives here, as if someone has gone out of their way to make it feel alive.
It looks comfortable, feels safe, and I try to remember the last time I felt that way about a family home.
An older woman I don't recognize greets us in the hallway, as Wilder and Caden follow me inside. “Hi, it’s Reed, right? I’m Helen,” she says gently. “Your mother is upstairs with my husband, Arthur, he’s a doctor, she was a little hysterical so he gave her something to calm down.”
“And my brother?” Helen smiles at the question, gesturing toward the back of the house.
“He’s in the garden with the boys.”
I nod, suddenly unable to trust my voice, and then almost flinch when Wilder gently squeezes my shoulder. “Take all the time you need, Blue, I’ll stay right here.”
A part of me wishes I could beg him to go with me, hating how much I am already leaning on him, but I know this is something I need to face alone. So Helen guides both him and Caden into the living room, before she leads me upstairs with a soft, knowing smile.
The bedroom door she takes me to is half open, but still I knock quietly, forcing the door open to find a man at my mother’s bedside, taking her blood pressure. “You’re all good now, Mrs. Lamont, just try and get some rest and I’ll come back to check on you later.”
My mom isn’t listening to him though, no, her eyes are already locked on mine, and I almost don’t recognize her.
She looks different, bigger somehow, like someone has quietly removed the weight she'd carried for years, and she doesn't yet know how to stand without it.
The second she sees me she starts crying, and I cross the room in four quick strides, until I can kneel at her bedside.
Neither of us says anything, she simply cups my face in both hands, clocking every bruise and mark, and for the first time in my life I see the full weight of her regret. “Oh my baby,” she cries, fresh tears spilling from her eyes, but I’m already shaking my head.
“I’m okay,” I choke out, neither of us believing the lie for what it is. “Or at least I will be,” I add, and she nods.
“I’m so sorry, Reed, I should have protected you.”
I won’t sit here and say I don’t blame her to some extent, but she is just as much of a victim as I am. I know how scared she was of him, what he would have done if she tried to leave him, but it still hurts to know she never tried.
“What’s done is done,” I tell her softly, noting her heavy eyes as she drops herself back onto the pillow.
“I gave her something to help her sleep,” Arthur explains, moving aside completely.
“I’m glad he’s dead,” she rushes out, and my eyes flare wide in panic, darting toward the doctor still packing up his stuff, but he doesn’t react to her words.
“If I were braver I’d have killed him myself.
” Her voice trembles, but she says the words with such conviction that I know they’re true.
“I loved the man I married.” She whispers it so quietly I almost miss it, before she adds, “but I don't know who he became.”
Neither do I.
We sit together until the sedatives begin pulling gently at her eyelids, and within minutes, her breathing slows. I mildly wonder how it feels to fall asleep without being scared, and I have to swallow thickly as I pull the blanket up over her shoulders.
“Will she be okay?” I ask, and the doctor nods.
“It will take some time, but yes. I’ve already reached out to a few therapists,” he starts, picking up his bag. “For all of you.” I nod, suddenly desperate to see Freddie, and it’s as if the man senses it. “Come on, I’ll take you to your brother.”
I follow him through the house, passing the living room where, to my surprise, Wilder still sits, until we reach the garden.
When we push outside I spot two older guys sitting on the deck, and then a familiar head of messy blond curls.
It looks as if they are teaching him to play cards, but the second the door closes behind us, all their eyes turn this way.
“Reed!” Freddie shouts, jumping to his feet and barreling toward me. He throws himself at me with so much force that I almost topple over, the pain instant, but I ignore it, throwing my arms around him.
“Hey kid, you okay?” I feel him shrug against me, as the two guys he was sitting with make their way over to us.
“Hey man, I’m Jace.” The one with long blond hair states. “This is Marcus,” he gestures to the other one with dark hair, and I shake both their hands. “Sorry for your loss.”
I almost snort at the words again, this whole thing just completely fucked up, but I catch myself just in time before Freddie pulls back. “They were teaching me to play poker,” Freddie adds cheerfully, gesturing to them both.
“I take it you don’t spend much time around kids?” I say, eyeing them, and they share a sheepish expression.
“Would you believe us if I said we were both dads?” Marcus replies, and I crack a smile despite everything going on, before I exhale a deep breath. “Come on, Conrad, let’s leave these two to catch up.”
Freddie and I both watch them leave, before a silence settles between us.
We both take a seat on the steps, listening to the birds chirp somewhere in the trees, letting us know that no matter what happened this morning, the world is still turning.
I wrack my brain for something to say to my brother, to try and explain all of this to him, when I don’t even understand it myself.
“I don't feel sad.” The words come so quietly I almost don't hear them, as I turn my gaze to my brother, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s rubbing at his bare wrist, the one that is still freshly healed, as he shrugs. “I think something's wrong with me.”
My heart breaks in my chest. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugs again. “Because everyone keeps asking if I'm okay, and I keep waiting to feel…” he pauses as if searching for the word, before he lands on.
“Something.” He strokes his wrist again with a frown.
“I mean, I should feel something, right?” he looks up at me in question, before he adds.
“But I feel nothing.” His voice cracks and I nod, knowing exactly what he means, except the shame on his face is instant.
“I know that makes me a terrible person.” He casts his gaze back to the ground.
“No it doesn’t,” I snap too quickly, startling him a little, as I turn toward him fully.
“It makes you human, Freddie,” I tell him, gently pulling his hand into mine.
“Our father wasn’t a good person. He hurt us, didn’t he?
” Freddie has never once confirmed what happened to his arm, but at my words, tears fill his eyes as he nods swiftly.
Anger curls in my stomach, but I push on.
“We didn’t deserve that, we did nothing wrong, it was all on him, and now he’s gone.
And if you don’t feel bad, that’s okay.”
“Is it?” I nod. “So I’m not broken?” Now tears gather in my eyes, as I let out a soft laugh.
“You’re not broken, buddy, and if you are then so am I, because I’m glad he’s dead.” He blinks back a little at my confession, his hand tightening in mine.
He stares out at the garden again before gently saying, “I feel bad because Mom's crying.”
“Your feelings don't have to match hers,” I tell him, and he looks back up at me in wonder. “People can love the same person and lose them in completely different ways. How we grieve someone doesn’t define us, and neither do their actions.”
He thinks about that for a long time, and when he finally speaks, I don’t know what to expect. “Is that your boyfriend?” he asks, surprising me, as I follow his stare back toward the house, to find Wilder speaking to the two guys from earlier.
His stare is flicking between me and them, and my heart thunders in my chest, before I focus back on my brother in surprise. “How did you know that I was…” I trail off, not sure what to even say, and my brother actually smiles.
“Gay?” he offers with a laugh. “I’m eleven, not stupid!” he scoffs, and I can’t help but laugh with him. “So, is he?”
I look between him and Wilder and shrug. “Honestly, kid, at this moment in time, I have no idea what we are.”
After that, we both go quiet, and for the first time in years we just sit together with no expectations.
There are no raised voices, no listening for angry footsteps, and no panic as I think about trying to protect him.
Just two brothers, finally finding the peace I have been fighting to give him for years.
The rest of the day quietly slips away into evening, with no one rushing us, no one asking anything of us, and no one mentioning anything about my father. Freddie is acting like everything is fine, playing more cards with his new friends, and even beating Wilder.
“You’re as bad as your brother,” Wilder scoffs, when he loses for a third time.
“Maybe you just suck,” Freddie replies with a smile, dragging back his pile of winnings, and even Caden hides a smirk.
I wish I could say it felt strange, to sit across from someone I know is a murderer all day, especially considering everything I have done to protect my brother.
But the reality is, I have never felt more safe.
Honestly, it feels a little surreal, like I am getting to know a version of my brother I have never seen before, and all it does is make me feel guilty.
Mom wakes up before I leave, and the three of us have dinner together, Wilder noticeably making himself absent.
She eats more than I expected, and even talks to Freddie about his recital, showing me the videos on her phone.
It’s the first casual family dinner we have ever had, and honestly it’s perfect.
I even see Freddie off to bed, which apparently he is too old for now, but when I go to leave, he begs me to stay until he falls asleep.
“I thought you were too old,” I tease, slumping back into the chair I was in, and he rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.” He climbs beneath the duvet, and even though the room is unfamiliar, he looks more settled here than he ever did at home.
Within minutes, his breathing evens out, which surprises me.
I thought, given the circumstances, it might be a little harder for him to fall asleep.
Still, I stay a little longer, watching the rise and fall of his chest, just to make sure he’s okay.
When I'm finally certain he's asleep, I quietly stand, crossing the room without making a sound, and opening the door almost silently.
Outside, the hallway is dimly lit, and I find Wilder leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for me. I honestly thought he’d left by now, since it’s been a couple of hours since I last saw him, but he smiles sadly when he sees me.
“Is he okay?” he asks, making my heart swell, and I shrug.
“I think he will be, eventually,” I tell him truthfully, and I hate the way I see a flash of guilt in his stare, as if he thinks this is his fault.
“Are you staying here?” he questions, changing the subject, and I can’t stop myself from looking back at the closed bedroom door.
“I think I have to, at least for a few days anyway.” Wilder almost looks disappointed at my words, but still he nods. “I don't know what comes next,” I add, and his stare turns completely resigned.
“I know.”
“I don't even know who I am without…” I can't finish the sentence, because I don’t want to face the truth.
Who am I without fear? Without worry? Without constantly fearing for my life? I don’t know if I can just turn that off.
"I feel like I've spent so long surviving that I never learnt how to actually live,” I say, letting out a tired breath, and Wilder pushes off the wall across from me.
“I know who you are,” he tells me firmly.
“You’re beautiful, kind, passionate, you love the moon and are obsessed with history, and gay Greek Gods.
” I can’t help but laugh, as my eyes fill with tears, but his hands are already on my cheeks, wiping them away before they can even fall.
“You’re smart and protective, and there is no one in the world that kid would rather call his big brother, because he knows that no matter what, you will always have his back.
” He steps closer now, bringing his body flush with mine.
“And you’re the man I love, and I will remind you every single day how special you are. ”
The tears are falling now, whether I want them to or not, because as much as his words make my heart race, I can’t keep using him as a distraction from my fucked up life. “Wilder,” I sigh, searching his stare, not sure how to even explain what I mean, but of course he already sees it.
“It’s okay, Blue, I understand, but I need you to know I don’t care how long it takes.”
“How long what takes?”
“For you to let yourself love me back.” With his words, he kisses me softly on my lips, careful not to hurt the cut there.
“A day, a week, a month, hell, baby, I’d wait a whole fucking decade, because I know once you let yourself be free, the two of us will be unstoppable.
” He kisses me again, his words stunning me so completely, that all I can do is stand there and take it, until he pulls back and smiles. “See you tomorrow, Blue.”
Then he walks away, and I stare after him wordlessly.