Chapter 21 #2
Adelaide glances between us, her confusion plain, eyes darting from my face to Summer’s like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle she doesn’t want to finish.
I feel the question land, heavy and pointed. The kind that doesn’t need to be shouted to draw blood.
“Where is he, Jacob?” Constance repeats, slower this time, suspicion curling around every syllable.
“He’s in St. Luke’s Hospital,” Jacob responds, each word flat, measured, the calm that comes after the storm. I meet their eyes one by one. “You think I was going to let that piece of shit come to my home, put his hands on my girl, make me out to be the devil and walk away?”
The room goes still. Even the clock seems to stop ticking. Constance’s lips part like she’s about to speak but nothing comes out. Adelaide just stares, the color draining from her face.
“We’re going there,” he says, voice low but unwavering. “And I’ll wait outside the room while Summer talks to him.” His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as he forces the next words out. “I’m not happy about it—but it’s the right choice.”
“No,” Constance interrupts, steel threaded through her tears.
“Benny would know something was wrong if she went in by herself. He’s not stupid.
He’d smell it on her.” She swallows, eyes flicking to me, full of stubborn love.
“But if Adelaide and I go with her… he’ll believe it.
We’ll make him think we’re just there to comfort her.
That we brought her to see him and are waiting outside to give her space.
He… he knows how close we are. We saw him in The Dogwood, we—” Adelaide nudges her, as if telling her not to speak about my confession of the dance to them, only a few nights ago.
“This isn’t the time, Connie!” Adelaide interrupts. “But yes. It’ll look natural. Like we just came with her because she needed friends around her… which isn’t a lie.” She shoots Jacob a look. “Because we didn’t want her alone right now.”
Jacob grinds his teeth. His hand tightens on the back of the sofa until the leather creaks.
Constance see’s Jacob’s reaction—the space between them sparks, so hot I can barely breathe. Jacob’s look of disgust lashes out like a whip, but Constance doesn’t back down. Not this time.
I stare into my mug, the liquid trembling with the shaking of my hands. I don’t want to go. God, I don’t want to. The thought of looking into Benny’s eyes again makes bile climb my throat.
But then Mama’s screams echo in my head, dragging me back into the smoke. Papa’s silence follows, heavy as stone.
I force myself to lift my head. My voice comes out hoarse, but it cuts through the room. “I’ll do it. But Jacob comes and waits outside too.”
“Summer, you don’t have to—” Adelaide starts.
“I do.” I shake my head, clutching the mug tighter, as if the heat will anchor me.
“I don’t want to. I don’t want any of this.
But if there’s even a chance it helps us find out who did this to Mama and Papa—” My voice fractures, shattering on their names.
I swallow hard and push the words out anyway. “Then I’ll do it.”
Constance’s hand finds mine, gripping tight. “We’ll be with you. Every second. He’ll believe it.”
Adelaide nods, her lip trembling, but she doesn’t let go of me either.
The night feels heavier when we finally move toward the door.
Every step aches, like grief has seeped into my bones, slowing me down, weighing me down.
Constance wraps her arm around me as we leave the warmth of the house.
Adelaide hovers at my other side, clutching her sweater tight, her wide eyes darting between me and the darkness beyond the porch.
And Jacob— he doesn’t touch me this time.
He just walks ahead, his shoulders broad, his presence filling the space like a warning carved into the night itself.
My chest tightens as I glance back at the house—at the soft glow of the kitchen light spilling through the window. The last place Mama and I shared a hot drink. The last place Papa told me he loved me. Now they’re gone. Gone in blood, smoke and silence.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste metal. My throat burns, but I keep moving.
Because I’m not alone.
They’re here—these three. The only three who matter now.
Constance, solid and stubborn, holding me up when I want to collapse. Adelaide, soft and shaking but still with me, still refusing to let me face this without her. And Jacob. Dark. Relentless. Dangerous. But mine.
They’re all I’ve got left. The only reason I can force air into my lungs. The only reason I can keep walking toward the truck instead of crawling into bed and letting the world continue to turn without me.
I cared for Benny. God, I cared. Enough to dream about escape. Enough to believe in softness. But Jacob’s words keep echoing in my head, gnawing at me like teeth.
He knew before I did. How?
The question digs deeper with every step. I try to shake it, to shove Benny back into the box of things I can’t bear to think about. But the doubt won’t stay quiet. Jacob is right.
How could Benny have known?
Constance steadies me, her arm tightening around my waist. She holds me closer, whispering softly, “Almost there, sweetheart. Just a few more steps.”
The truck looms ahead, dark metal glinting under the porch light. Jacob moves toward it without a word, yanking the door open with a fast motion, like even the hinges should fear him. For a heartbeat, I want to turn back. To run upstairs, bury myself under the covers. But I don’t.
Because Mama and Papa deserve more than silence.
Because Constance and Adelaide deserve the truth.
Because Jacob—God, help me—deserves to be right.