Page 84 of Thicker Than Water
“So after the conference,” he says, “when I saw Gavin drive home with Maeve—”
“The conference?” Julia cuts in. “You mean the party, right? Gavin drove Maeve home after the holiday party.”
“At the party, Gavin drove her home. At the con-conference,shedrove Gavin home.”
“Wait,” Julia says. “That doesn’t make sense. I talked to Maeve. She doesn’t think he assaulted her, but she does think he’s a creep. Why would she give him a ride?”
“He’d been drinking. At the dinner. A lot. He was planning to drive home. Drunk.”
Now his gaze crawls toward me, heavy with the memory of our parents.
I drop my eyes to the bed.
“He wouldn’t call an Uber,” he continues. “Said he was fine.”
“SoMaevetook him home?” Julia says, still stuck on that detail. “Wouldn’t people have seen Gavin leave with her? The cops haven’t mentioned that.”
“She was parked down the street,” Jason says, still focused on me. “Left a little before him. I heard her say she’d wait for him, in her car. No one but me was listening. Watching. And this time, I followed. Had to make sure Maeve was safe. Had toact.Like I didn’t at the p-party. Like I didn’t, at first, withyou.”
I feel his stare like a sunburn. My fingers itch to peel it off.
“That’s how— That’s why it all happened,” he says. “That’s why…”
As he pauses, his gaze lasers deeper, until I think that even my bones are on fire. And I won’t look back at him, I refuse to, because I know what he’s about to say.
The room grows hazy with heat. It rushes over me, slickening my skin. The walls warp, wobbling like they’re made of rubber. I clutch the bed tighter to keep from tumbling to the floor.
Jason’s breath wheezes in the back of his throat, but his words are crisper than they’ve been since we arrived. They torch right through me, leaving no part of me uncharred.
“That’s why Gavin died.”
Chapter Twenty-ThreeJULIA
It isn’t Jason’s words that gut me. It’s Sienna’s face.
I can read it in the pinch of her mouth, her blistering eyes: Sienna’s clean, uncomplicated love for her brother is now irrevocably stained.
My instinct is to take her hand, but she’s gripping the blankets so hard there’s no room for my palm in hers. And I can’t risk her seeing my touch as something it’s not:See? I told you so.
Despite our fight this morning, the stance I took so starkly, I’m devastated to be right.
I look toward the door, wondering if the officers outside heard what Jason said, if these are the last seconds we have with him before they burst inside to arrest him for murder.
If so, I need to know more. Because even with Jason’s confirmation, I can’t understand how it all played out. Back in December, after I confronted Jason about our missing money, I didn’t question the omissions in his story. I was too scared of his response, tooscared of what the truth might reveal about him, about us—but my silence didn’t serve me either. It still led me right here.
“How did it happen?” I ask.
“I lost Maeve’s car,” Jason says. “I’d parked on a differ-different street. Had to look up where he lived. Fig-figure out the route, before my phone died. So by the time I got to his house, they were alrea-ready around back. I heard voices. Heard Maeve say, ‘Stop.’ And I ran back there. Told Gavin… to get away from her. His hand. On her thigh.”
The story stalls as Jason pulls in a labored breath. Then his mouth presses into a grim line, like he’s bracing against pain. My eyes leap to his monitor. It displays two rows of numbers that, even after a week, still mean nothing to me.
“Jason, are you—” I start, but he forges ahead.
“Gavin said I was tres-tres-trespassing. Going to call the cops. But his phone was on the p-patio table. And I took it, before he could. Turned it off. Put it in my pocket. Forgot about it, com-completely. If the cops have it, it must’ve f-fallen out, later, when I took off my jacket. Blood on it. Had to thr-throw it away. Evi-evidence.”
His eyelids droop as he stutters. Air rasps between his lips.
“Jason…” I check the monitor again. One number plummets. The other climbs.
