Chapter Twenty-Six — Mine Anyway #2
Ronan kissed his temple. Elliot closed his eyes. Maybe he could survive uncertainty if Ronan kept doing that. Maybe. At 9:03 A.M., Rebecca knocked. Neither had gotten dressed. Ronan looked toward the door. Elliot looked at him.
“No.”
Rebecca knocked again.
“Elliot?”
Ronan whispered, “You deal with her.”
“She’s your stepmother.”
“She birthed you.”
“Technicality.”
“Pretty significant technicality.”
Rebecca called again.
“I know you’re awake.”
Ronan frowned.
“How?”
Elliot pointed toward the floor. Their laughter.
“Fuck.”
“Exactly.”
Ronan pulled on sweatpants. Elliot immediately looked. Ronan caught him.
“Seriously?”
“What?”
“You’ve seen me naked.”
“Still looking.”
Ronan shook his head.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Elliot pulled on a shirt. They went downstairs. Rebecca stood outside carrying coffee and breakfast sandwiches. Elliot opened the door. She looked at his throat. Then Ronan’s bandaged arm. Then Elliot’s neck again. Her expression tightened.
“The bruises are from the intruder.”
Elliot said it immediately. Rebecca blinked.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were thinking.”
Ronan coughed to cover a laugh. Rebecca looked at him. He became fascinated by the coffee. She entered. The kitchen still looked terrible. Her eyes moved over everything. Then the storageroom door. Elliot’s pulse changed. Ronan noticed. Tiny glance. Enough. Rebecca put breakfast on the counter.
“Your father is having cameras installed today.”
“Good,” Ronan said.
“Police approved the company.”
Even better. Rebecca looked at Elliot.
“Detective Vance wants you at the station this afternoon.”
His stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“She called me because apparently neither of you currently has a functioning phone.”
Ronan lifted a finger.
“Mine was murdered in the line of duty.”
Rebecca stared. Ronan lowered the finger.
“She wants to speak to both of you.”
“About Nathan?” Elliot asked.
“I assume.”
Ronan and Elliot looked at each other. Saint. The forum. Five names. The mask downstairs. Vance was pulling. Eventually something would come loose. Rebecca noticed the look.
“What?”
“Nothing,” they said together.
She closed her eyes.
“Wonderful.”
Ronan smiled. Elliot almost did. Then Rebecca looked directly at him.
“Can I speak to you alone?”
Ronan’s smile disappeared. Elliot’s stomach tightened.
“Sure.”
Ronan touched his lower back while passing. Small. Private. Elliot felt it long after Ronan disappeared upstairs. Rebecca waited until footsteps stopped. Then:
“Are you in trouble?”
Elliot stared.
“What?”
“Not relationship trouble.”
Her voice lowered.
“Real trouble.”
His heartbeat changed.
“No.”
The lie came automatically. Rebecca studied him. Mothers were dangerous that way. She had known him before he learned how to perform for everyone else. Maybe not everything. More than most.
“Elliot.”
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t ask whether you were fine.”
Fuck. Everyone had learned that now. He looked toward the stairs. Ronan remained upstairs. Rebecca followed his gaze.
“Does Ronan know?”
Elliot looked back.
“Know what?”
“Whatever you’re not telling me.”
Silence. Her face changed. There. Mother. Recognition without information.
“He does.”
Not a question. Elliot said nothing. Rebecca swallowed.
“Is he protecting you?”
His chest tightened.
“No.”
Another lie. Worse. Rebecca stared.
“Your whole life, you’ve been able to look me in the eye when you lie.”
Elliot froze. She continued.
“You’re not doing it now.”
He forced himself to meet her gaze. Too late. Rebecca’s eyes filled with something he did not want to name. Fear. Not of him. For him.
“Mom.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop saying that.”
Apparently the entire fucking world had banned the word. Elliot looked away. Rebecca stepped closer.
“You don’t have to tell me everything.”
Yes, he did. That was exactly the problem. There was no safe fraction anymore.
“But tell me whether I need to help you.”
Elliot almost laughed. Help. What would she do? Hide the mask? Lie to Vance? Visit him in prison? Ronan’s promise came back. If you ever do turn me in… visit me. His throat tightened. Rebecca saw.
“Oh, honey.”
“No.”
She reached for him. Elliot stepped backward. Her hand stopped. That hurt worse.
“I’m okay.”
“You are very clearly not okay.”
“I will be.”
“How?”
He didn’t know. So he gave her the only answer he had.
“Ronan.”
Rebecca went still. Elliot immediately regretted saying it. Not because it was false. Because it was too true. Her expression softened.
“That serious.”
“Yes.”
“Even after everything happening?”
Especially after.
“Yes.”
Rebecca looked toward the stairs. Then back.
“I meant what I said last night.”
Elliot waited.
“I don’t understand this yet.”
His stomach tightened.
“But I’m trying.”
He looked down.
“Okay.”
“And I don’t want either of you confusing intensity with something healthy just because the world feels dangerous right now.”
Elliot almost smiled. Too late. Rebecca saw.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Apparently I hate that word too.”
Elliot laughed. She did too. Small. Then she hugged him. This time Elliot didn’t hesitate. He hugged her back. For several seconds, he allowed himself to be somebody’s son. Not murderer. Not golden boy. Not Ronan’s obsession. Just hers. It hurt. When she released him, she touched his cheek.
“Whatever this is, you can come to me.”
Elliot nodded. He would not. But he loved her for offering. She left at 9:31. Ronan came downstairs immediately.
“You listened.”
“Yes.”
“Asshole.”
“Yes.”
Ronan walked into the kitchen.
“She knows something.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Yet.”
Elliot looked at him. Ronan’s expression was serious.
“We’re running out of room.”
The words settled. Vance. Rebecca. Nathan. Saint. Every secret was closing inward. Elliot looked toward the storage room. Ronan followed his gaze.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You thought it.”
“We need to move the mask.”
“No.”
“Ronan.”
“No.”
“If Vance gets a warrant—”
“Then we deal with that.”
“By letting her find evidence of five murders?”
Ronan’s jaw tightened.
“We are not moving murder evidence while police are watching the house.”
“We?”
Ronan glared.
“Don’t enjoy that.”
Too late. Elliot smiled. Ronan pointed.
“Stop.”
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
Elliot’s smile faded slowly. Then he looked toward the storage room again.
Something bothered him. The black box. Nathan knew where it was.
Saint probably did too. Nathan had shouted for police to check beneath the stairs.
Why? If Nathan wanted Elliot exposed, easy.
But Saint? Saint had spent months doing the opposite.
Watching. Encouraging. Testing. The thought formed.
“Ronan.”
“What?”
“What if Nathan wasn’t trying to expose me?”
“He literally screamed about the box to police.”
“Nathan did.”
Ronan frowned.
“Yes.”
“Saint hasn’t.”
Silence. Ronan understood.
“If Saint knows about the murders…”
“They could’ve told Vance months ago.”
“But didn’t.”
“Yes.”
“Because they want something else.”
“Yes.”
Ronan leaned against the counter.
“From you.”
“Maybe.”
“Or me.”
Elliot’s jaw tightened. He hated that possibility. Ronan noticed.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Get possessive about the serial killer stalking us.”
“I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Elliot looked away. Ronan almost laughed. Then his expression changed.
“What if Saint wanted Nathan arrested?”
Elliot looked back.
“Why?”
“Think about it.”