Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Gus
THE TICKING CLOCK COUNTED OUT NEVER ending minutes as the shadows in my living room grew and melted into darkness.
I could have switched on a light, but I just kept sitting there thinking about all the times in my life that making the wrong decision left scars I couldn’t heal no matter how much I tried.
In particular, I thought about Elsie on the night she died.
The crunch of fresh snow beneath my feet, the scratch of tree bark catching on my wool coat as my breath misted against Kit’s kiss-slick mouth.
Everyone else in the Oyster Pond country house was fast asleep.
Sneaking out of the room we were sharing with my siblings had been Kit’s idea, and a hushed game of hide and seek in the dark through the woods had turned into exactly what it always did when we were young and starving for some time alone.
I’d never known what caught Kit’s attention, but he pulled back, and I followed his gaze to see Elsie wobbling on skates in the middle of the pond, the moonlight making her glow.
My heart lodged in my throat as her arms shot out for balance when the crack of thin ice rang in the air like a gunshot.
Shoving Kit out of the way before I had time to think, I ran for her.
My feet sank in the snow, making me too slow. Then I was slipping.
Elsie’s panicked gaze landed on me a second before the ice gave way beneath her, dark water swallowing her up before she could even scream.
My breath seized in my lungs and I ran harder, finally hitting the shiny edge of the pond as I wracked my mind for magic to save her.
Seconds later, the sick crunch of ice breaking apart under my foot shocked me.
I fell forward and landed hard against the jagged edge.
My ankle rolled, hitting the rocks at the bottom and wedging, my forward momentum slamming my thigh at the wrong angle.
I couldn’t help the scream that tore from my throat as my leg broke and frigid water soaked me from foot to hip.
Kit’s magic sizzled past me, lightning bolt shaped cracks shattering the entire surface of the ice, breaking it apart. I plunged into the water, my broken leg jamming against rocks as I tried to stand. Pain stole my breath, spots dancing on the greying edge of my vision.
By the time I could focus on anything but agony, Kit had jumped into the pond.
He was swimming, searching, swearing, and not giving up even if it must have hurt like hell.
I shouted Elsie’s name, tried to swim too, but it was like needles stabbing me all over, and my leg was useless.
I didn’t make it far before I started sinking too.
Choking as I tried to keep my head up. All I could do was beg God to let Kit find Elsie, desperately wishing I was good at improvising magic.
The lights came on in the house, the clatter of my uncle slamming out the back door barely penetrated the fogginess rolling through me, dulling the sharp bite of physical pain, but it didn’t stop the anguish wrenching sobs from my chest. Then he was pulling me out, shoving me onto the bank of the pond and going after Kit.
We didn’t find Elsie until the next morning. Not until my mother arrived and used her magic to bring my sister’s lifeless body to the surface and gather her up to hold close, stinging cold rain and pond water drenching them. I watched, my body frozen in grief and soul-shattering guilt.
None of it would’ve happened if I’d been up in that room, keeping an eye on things like I was supposed to.
How often had my father muttered that to himself in the days that followed?
If it hadn’t been for that one decision Elsie would still be alive, my father wouldn’t have left, and John might not have died either.
I wouldn’t have a leg that hurt after walking too long, that ached in cold or wet weather.
I could’ve followed Kit when he left. Maybe we’d have been something amazing together.
Maybe there wouldn’t be spikes and shards of glass littered between and around us, hurting everyone, even the people we cared about most.
Things would be different. Better.
The fight between Kit and George last night was bad enough. The fight I’d had with Kit right after was icing on the bullshit cake. He was out somewhere right now doing exactly the opposite of what a sane and rational person would, putting himself at risk.
Kit was handsome as hell, more engaging than any politician, and smarter than half the teachers we’d ever had. Any guy whose interest swung his way would be taken by him.
Or maybe Kit’s gut instinct was bang on. I couldn’t help feeling like I was failing at something by not being there to protect him. Just like I hadn’t been in time to save Elsie, just like my injury had kept me from being there with John.
A hesitant knock sounded on the front door. Cautiously, I picked my way to the entry, flipping on the light as I went. Kit stood on the front steps in a slightly rumpled suit, fedora askew and smelling enough like whiskey that he was either wearing it or he was drunk.
“Hi,” he said, looking at the collar of my shirt instead of my face. He sounded confused to find me here. Or to have found himself here.
“Hi. Uh. Come on in.” I hated how nervous I sounded.
He toed off his shoes, and then I trailed him into the living room. He seemed steady enough on his feet, so maybe my first guess was closer than my second.
He curled up on the sofa with his back to the arm rest and his knees tucked up to his chest. The position made him seem vulnerable, made me want to pull him to me and pry out what was going on. Instead, I sat on the other side of the couch, trying to think of a way to ask what happened.
Kit beat me to it. “You know, when we made it into Paris, I was in a jeep with other correspondents, following a column of soldiers. We wear uniforms too, so women were all over us. We drank for two days straight celebrating the liberation. There was this French resistance fighter…” Kit trailed off with a distant look on his face, remembering.
Jealousy pricked its head up before he even had to explain.
“We spent a lot of time together, laughing, and telling stories, and he reminded me so much of you that when he kissed me one night, I let him. But the whole time we were making love, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
Missing you. Wishing he was you. All that time gone by, other people I’d been with since, but it was you I could never get out of my mind.
Even when I didn’t want you to be there.
Even when it feels like my heart can’t possibly shred any further, and then it does, because nothing has ever been enough to get me to let go of you, August. Nothing.
Not even you changing your mind about us or blaming me for—” He choked up, but I guessed he meant blaming him for leaving.
“And isn’t that just a sad demonstration of how messed up I am? ”
My heart pounded in my throat, and I tried clearing it.
“If you’re messed up, then so am I.” Dragging the words out took effort.
So much effort when I was so used to hiding from them, but the hopelessness, the agony in Kit’s voice loosened my hold.
“I never got over you, not for a second. How could I when your words were all over the papers? That was bad enough, and then your voice was on the radio. It felt like being grabbed by the heart, Kit. The first time I heard your broadcast, I thought I was gonna die with how bad it hurt and how much I wanted to keep hearing you anyway. You think you’re messed up? I’m the one who threw us away.”
Kit looked up at me then, eyes glossy. “I don’t understand you.”
I dropped my head and scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to will away the wetness stinging my own eyes.
“That makes two of us,” I mumbled. We shouldn’t be having this conversation when Kit was intoxicated.
It seemed unfair to him. I didn’t want him to regret talking to me when he sobered up.
“What happened tonight that brought this on?”
Kit grimaced. “Nothing.”
“Don’t hafta be half-fae to see through that lie. I get I haven’t really known you for the better part of two decades, but I know you take your job seriously enough that you wouldn’t go getting sauced at a work function for no reason.”
Kit curled up a little more. “I didn’t drink that much.”
“Either you did, or you spilled a lot, because I can smell it.”
He scowled, then deflated. “Montgomery kept getting me drinks. I couldn’t turn him down without looking like a drag while I was talking to bigwigs who were finding the bottom of their glasses much too often.
Whitman was there. Still don’t like him.
He kept looking at me strange, and he feels funny.
Bad funny. And his wife didn’t say a single word the whole time she was hanging on his arm either time I met them.
Men like that are… are… huge assholes. They think everyone’s after whatever they’ve got, and they take it out on innocent people.
She should’ve been allowed to talk, damn it. She’s a human being not a doll.”
That would certainly rile Kit up. He wanted everything to be fair and right. He always had. The world always, always disappointed him. “And that made you mad, like it ought have.”
He buried his face in his folded-up forearms. “Yes. But I had to smile at him and chat and behave for brC. The only reason I went was to try and see if Montgomery or Whitman might slip up and give me a hint they’re involved with Ted taking off, but it was all just small-talk and evasion.
By the time I slipped away, I felt slimy. ”
That didn’t sound pleasant, but it didn’t sound bad enough to leave him reeling or send him running to me. “So what else set you off?”
“When I left, Montgomery caught up to me. He—you can’t say this to anyone else, understand?” He lifted his head to meet my gaze, begging me with his eyes.