31. Margo
Chapter 31
Margo
C aleb is pale by the time we get back to my house.
I reach over and stroke his cheek, frowning. It does the trick. He shakes his head and comes out of whatever trance he was in.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He frowns. “I was just remembering…”
Ah . If he had to relive finding his dad, that’s on me. I’m the one who brought it up. I put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He meets my gaze. “It’s not your fault. And besides… I realized a few things.”
I lift my eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Masters was the detective’s partner on my dad’s case,” he says.
I jerk back. “What?”
“It only just occurred to me.” He grimaces. “Masters knew Theo’s mom. I wonder if he went to school with our dads.”
Our dads . It’s so weird to hear him say it like that. Up until this year, we had no idea they were anything beyond acquaintances. Two men burned by Amber.
“The police made the arrest quickly, right? Within the day?”
“An open-and-shut case,” he answers. “So they thought.”
“I just wish I could remember what happened after.” I grind my teeth. “There’s still the blank wall that I can’t get through. I go back home and then what? My memories skip to being at the park.”
His expression borders on sympathetic. “I don’t think your memory alone will free your dad. We need proof.”
My stomach twists. “What would the implication be if he did go to school with them?”
“He wasn’t in charge, so I don’t know how much he could’ve swayed. And it would depend on their relationship, you know? People didn’t really like my dad. He was known as the developer.”
Real estate. Insurance. His dad did it all, and happily—until he sold his company to the highest bidder.
Caleb snaps his fingers. “Yearbook!”
“What?”
“I know Mom kept her old yearbook from high school. And your dad might’ve kept his from their year. Maybe we can go back to your house?—”
I grab his hand before he can put the car in reverse. “It’s no use, Caleb. Everything is gone.”
He pauses. “Huh?”
Oh shit . Did I not tell him?
“My house. It was completely cleared out except for my parents’ bedroom.” A giggle bubbles out of me. “All this time, I thought you did it just to keep it away from me. That you had everything in a storage room somewhere—I put it out of my mind because I didn’t want you to see it got to me.”
“Margo, no,” Caleb murmurs. His hand slides around my neck, into my hair. “I had no idea.”
His hand is grounding.
“It’s your house,” I remind him. “Who else would do that?”
“I have a few guesses.” He puts the car in park, killing the engine. “Unfortunately, none of them will be forthcoming unless we’re sneakier about it. Let’s go inside.”
I zip my jacket tighter and follow him to my front door. Robert and Lenora are both on the couch, curled up together, when we come in.
“How was your visit?” Lenora asks. There’s unveiled concern shining in her eyes.
“We had a good conversation,” Caleb says.
I nod.
I loop my arm in his, pulling him toward the stairs. My room is clean, albeit stark. There is now a new bed frame and mattress, and a white dresser, but everything else is in limbo. We plan on painting and going shopping for new decorations once the weekend hits. The two coats of primer cover the red almost to the point of invisibility.
Pretty bird, broken wings . I shudder to think about it.
“Who do you think did it?” I whisper on the stairs.
Caleb pauses next to the picture of me and him. The detective never did notice the red fingerprint, but he homes in on it. “Was this?—?”
“Yes.”
“It’s right over your face,” he says in a low voice. “You didn’t think to mention this?”
“It isn’t like it’s a threat.”
He gives me an exasperated look. “It could be, since everything Unknown does seems to have hidden meaning.”
I don’t have a response to that. Because, yeah, he’s totally right. It could be a threat, as subtle as it may seem.
“They wrote on my wall,” I point out. “Isn’t that a bit more…”
“Precise?” He scowls.
“I think I’m going to paint the room light blue,” I tell him, walking into my room. My things—what were salvaged anyway— are neatly stacked on top of the dresser. The primer is a creamy white color. It’s not awful, but it isn’t my first choice.
“Is that, ‘Oh, what a glorious fall’ from something?” Caleb asks. He plops down on my bed, smoothing the blanket. “Or do you think they made it up?”
I sit next to him. “I’ve been stewing over that myself,” I admit. “And at the same time, it infuriates me that I’m even wasting the brain power on it.”
“Fair.”
“Pretty bird, though… it reminds me of something just out of reach.”
He lifts a lock of my hair, twirling it. “It’ll come to you. Is that the painting?”
My attention goes to the canvas in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall. Small mercies that it wasn’t in the room when it got destroyed.
I still need to finish it, now that my view of Caleb has changed once again.
“It’s due soon,” he reminds me. “And my eyes are blank.”
My cheeks heat. “Yeah, I haven’t really had much time…”
“You’re right. Me neither. Luckily, I finished mine weeks ago.”
I stare at him. “Seriously? And you didn’t show me?”
He leans forward, kissing my forehead. It’s way too sweet for… him.
He’s not sweet.
Or kind.
Or nice .
But… he has been. Unfailingly sweet and supportive and gentle.
What on earth is wrong with me?
“Is this the new us?” I blurt out. “You being nice?”
He smirks. “Is this not what you want?”
Is it? Not if it isn’t real.
He seems to realize the seriousness of my question, because he leans back and drops the piece of hair he was still twirling. “Margo. I think our situations in the past few weeks have called for niceness. Would you prefer…?”
“Caleb the jerk?” I look away.
His thumb brushes my cheek, catching a tear I didn’t even realize was falling.
“I just want stability, you know?” I whisper.
“I’m starting to think you never deserved anything I did to you,” he admits. “It was so black and white, and then you just… changed everything in a matter of months.”
I nod. “Your uncle?”
His jaw sets.
“It’s okay. We’ll undo whatever he did.”
I kiss him softly. Honestly, I meant it as a peck. But his hand cups the back of my head, trapping me there, and he deepens it. His tongue slides into my mouth.
I groan and fist his shirt in my grip.
“Margo, you have visitors!” Lenora calls from downstairs. “I’ll send them up.”
We break apart, and he grins at me.
It’s a little devious—a hint of the old him.
I shake my head, straightening my clothes. Caleb just leans back, doing nothing to fix his shirt or the way his hair sticks up in every which way. Did I do that?
My door flies open, and Hanna bursts inside. She takes a minute to gape at the room, then shoots into my arms.
“Ah, hi, Hanna,” I laugh, hugging her to me.
She squeezes tight enough to steal my breath away.
Claire follows, but she doesn’t come all the way into the room. Her attention goes to Caleb. “Sorry, are we interrupting something?”
I glance at him, but he says nothing.
“No,” I manage. “No, it’s great to see you.”
Hanna releases me. “Claire drove us! Our foster parents finally said she was good enough to drive me.”
Caleb squints. “Did they, now?”
“She drives fast,” Hanna tells him. “But she lets me sit in the front seat, and I like to stick my hand out the window.”
Maybe he’s remembering that I don’t know how to drive, because he says nothing. He barely even looks at Claire, and her stare is hot enough to melt plastic.
“So, to what do we owe this visit?” I ask her, slightly moving so I break her line of sight.
She’s always been boy obsessed, but she can’t be obsessed with this one. I shift slightly, blocking her view of him.
She blinks, like she was dozing, and grins at me. “Well, we were out for ice cream and decided to check in on you. Hanna got an A on her final project in math.” She makes a show of checking out the room. “I’d say I like what you’ve done with the place, but…”
“It was time for a change,” I lie. “This is just the beginning stages of me making this place feel like home.”
“Oh?” She ventures farther in, touching a little clay pot Hanna had made me last year. It holds a few beads, an earring—lost things.
Forgotten things.
So they wouldn’t be misplaced anymore .
I almost cried when she gave it to me, because I know she meant me . I was the lost and forgotten thing. And so was she. And so was Claire.
We’re not lost anymore , I almost say. It’s on the tip of my tongue.
“I’m thinking of painting it blue.”
She picks up the canvas. “You’ve been working on this forever. Are you going to finish it?”
“You should paint the walls orange!” Hanna says, throwing herself onto the bed next to Caleb. She scoots all the way back, until she can lean against the wall. “Orange is my favorite color.”
“Silly girl,” Claire murmurs. “An orange room would practically glow when the sun rose.”
“Exactly.”
“Is your room decorated in orange?” I ask Hanna.
“Yeah, orange and pink. The best combination!” She kicks her feet. “It’s nice when the rest of the house is creepy.”
“It’s not creepy,” Claire says. “It’s just old and big.”
I ruffle Hanna’s hair. “I’m sure it’ll feel like home soon enough.”
“Do you go back to school before the holiday?” Claire asks me. “If I were you, I’d push for all the time off I could.”
Caleb tilts his head. “Because of the accident?”
She ignores him. “Did you know we found out about your kidnapping on the news? The freaking news, Margo!”
I wince. “I’m sorry. It was…”
“Traumatic,” Caleb finishes. “And she shouldn’t have to tell everyone about it.”
She flinches, then rushes to my side. “I’m sorry.” She picks up my hands and squeezes. “God, I didn’t mean it like that. It was just surprise… and worry.”
“You could’ve called,” Caleb said. “Instead of…” Barging in here and interrupting our kiss? That’s where it sounds like he’s taking this conversation.
I shake my head. “I should’ve reached out.”
Claire pats my cheek. “I forgive you.”
Caleb stands and moves toward us. His gait is slow, lazy almost. It’s just a few feet to cross the room. But somehow, he makes it feel predatory.
His gaze locks on Claire. He circles around her, then stops beside me.
“Let me get this straight. You forgive Margo, who was in a car accident and then abducted, and in the hospital for three days, for not calling you?”
Claire’s face turns red. She presses her lips together, staring up at him.
“He’s right,” Hanna pipes up from the bed. “A bit rude.”
I snicker. Leave it to the twelve-year-old to call it how things are.
“You’re right,” Claire says, barely able to look at Caleb. Her whole body trembles. “I’m sorry, Margo. That was insensitive. I was worried, and it came out wrong.”
She hugs me, burying her face in my neck.
I pat her back awkwardly.
Hanna jumps off the bed and throws her arms around both of us.
“Together again!” she yells into my arm.
Claire and Hanna leave soon after that. It would appear that they just wanted to check on me. Caleb and I eat dinner with Robert and Lenora, and then he, too, leaves.
The three of us settle on the couch. I go back to school tomorrow, so we’re soaking up the last night of no homework. Robert puts on a movie, and Lenora makes popcorn in the kitchen. I drag a blanket over my lap in the armchair, bringing my knees up to my chest.
When Lenora comes with two bowls of popcorn—one for me and one for them—Robert pauses the preview.
“We want to talk to you now that your friends are gone,” Robert says.
Worry immediately knots my stomach. A talk is never a good thing.
“You seem panicked.” Lenora reaches out and offers her hand.
I take it and suck in a deep breath. “Maybe a bit.”
“Lenora and I have been discussing adoption.” Robert smiles at me. “Our main concern is whether you’d be open to such a thing.”
“We want you to be part of our family permanently,” Lenora adds, squeezing my hand.
My mouth drops open. Yes, they’d said as much before the accident, but…
My heart tears itself in half.
It happens between beats. One minute it’s whole, and the next, it’s broken and I’m being pulled in two different directions.
Dad is innocent, and we just need to prove it to get him out.
And Robert and Lenora… they want to make things official. A home with two stable parents who love each other, who don’t fight. Who would’ve thought they’d pick me?
I don’t know how to stitch myself back together again. How to make my heart halves beat in sync.
My eyes burn, but I don’t cry. There’s a weight on my shoulders; it lands heavier than I would’ve thought I could handle.
“Thank you,” I say over the lump in my throat.
Any minute, I’m going to lose it.
“It’s a lot to process,” Lenora says. “And this is your decision.”
I push the blanket off and stand, wrapping my arms around Lenora. She gives much better hugs than my mother ever did.
An image of Mom standing in the diner flashes through my mind, but I shove it away. She left me alone, to fend for myself. And when I did see her? It was only about money to feed her habit.
Lenora rubs my back. “You’re shaking.”
“Just trying to forget about my mother.” I lean back and wipe at my face.
All I’ve done lately is cry. I hope I run out of tears soon.
“Should we watch the movie?” Robert asks.
I smile. “Yeah.”
As good a distraction as any .
My chest hurts. I wrap the blanket around me, sinking into the armchair. It’s nice to zone out at the screen for a while.
Adoption means my dad would have to give up his rights. I’d have a family, but I would lose him.
How the hell am I supposed to choose?