Kate

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I wake up to a scene straight out of a horror movie: moonlight slanting through glass; a terrifying specter looming over me. He’s seen me—he’s seen me, and he’s reaching for something in the dark. I shrink back against the cushions, and—

“Welcome back.” Wes flips on the light.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

“What?” He blinks. “Oh—did I scare you?”

“You think?” I push the blanket off my lap. “What are you doing skulking about in the dark?”

“I just got back.” He perches on the ottoman, smiling. “You were sleeping so peacefully—I was about to sneak back out, but your phone was trying to vibrate itself off the table.”

Oh. Right. That is my phone in his hand. “Give it here, then.”

He passes it over. “I might, uh—I think I’ll go straight to bed. If that’s all right with you."

“Sure.” Wait. What am I doing? “Hold on—I’m so sorry. I’m still waking up. I didn’t even ask, how’s your dad?”

Wes wrings his hands and presses his lips together.

“Wes?”

“He—I was too late.” He looks up at me, eyes glistening, and quickly turns away. “I’ve spent most of the day making—making arrangements. I don’t... They asked me what kind of service I wanted, and I—I don’t think there’s even anyone to—anyone who’d—” He chokes on the words, physically gags on them, chest heaving with the effort of holding in his grief. “If I’d left an hour earlier....”

“Oh, hey, that’s not your fault.” I squeeze myself onto the ottoman and pull him close. He’s gotten so thin—I can feel every bone in his shoulder. “Shit, Wes, what are you doing to yourself?”

“Hm?”

“When’s the last time you ate a full meal?”

He only shakes his head, face hidden in the crook of my neck. I can feel him holding his breath, holding back the storm.

“It’s all right. I’ll go with you tomorrow. Whatever’s still left to do....”

Wes’s chest hitches. He pulls away, eyes bright and feverish. “Have you ever thought.... Did you ever want to run away? Leave it all behind?”

If he only knew! “So many times.”

“Why don’t we, then?” He half-rises, stumbles, and sits down hard. “Grab our passports, a change of clothes—go till we run out of road.”

“So we’d end up in the ocean?”

“Across the ocean. The Faroe Islands. We’d get a little cabin, no Internet, no TV—we’d never have to find out what happened to our lives.” He clutches my hands so tight it almost hurts. “We could grow our own vegetables. Have a goat we’d milk, or eat, or...whatever goats are for.”

I take his hands and fold them back into his lap. He’s trembling all over, cold to the touch. “Let me make you some dinner first. Think you could handle some soup? Maybe some grilled cheese?”

“No....” He stares at the backs of his hands. “No—we have to go. I have to get out of here. Please.”

“What about Max and Carson? Don’t they get to come?”

“Kate....” He hangs his head. “There isn’t time. I want to save you. I love you.”

“I love you too, but...hey!” I bump him under the chin to get him to look up. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re upset, delirious—we can’t just—”

“No, I love you.” Wes claps his hand over his mouth, mutters through his fingers. “I’m in love with you. And I’m sorry, so sorry—I know you and Max are sort of, uh... I never meant to say it like this, but, Kate, I adore you. If anything happened to you...if you... Kate, the sun would go out for me; I’d never get over it....” He looks around, wild-eyed, like he’s expecting the shadows to attack. “Please. Come with me. I’m frightened. It’s all closing in, and if this is our last chance...Kate....”

I pull back slowly, edging away from him. “Wes, did you take something? Smoke something? Is that what this is?”

“No!” Wes follows me with his eyes. “I’m in love with you. Can’t remember a time I wasn’t. You came up to me on the beach, that day—I thought you were going to pretend to ask me out so Carson could beat me up. But you asked if I wanted to eat with you guys. You....” His hands twitch in his lap. “I love you. Is that so bad?”

Yes. Or...no? But his timing—fuck! If he’d spoken up eight years ago, maybe, but—no. He’s like my little brother. And there’s never been anyone but Max. Never been room for anyone else. What am I supposed to say?

“You don’t have to love me back.” He sniffles and wipes at his eyes. “But if you come with me, maybe in time.... I mean, I wouldn’t be angry if you never did. I could keep being your friend, and we could see....”

“Wh—what?”

“Like with arranged marriages—they sometimes fall in love, right? With time?”

I stand up. This situation passed weird five exits ago. We’re deep into acid trip country. “I’m making you some soup. You’ll eat, sleep, shower, and in the morning, we can—what are you doing?”

“Don’t—just....” He’s blocking my way, standing between me and the kitchen, which is ridiculous: I could knock him over with a finger.

“Are you trapping me in the living room?”

Wes steps aside, flushing crimson. “Sorry. God, Kate—I don’t know what came over me. I’m...it’s just, we have to go. Right now. I can’t explain, but there’s no time for dinner. We need to—”

I push past him into the kitchen. My toe catches on the torn linoleum. Wes steadies me, setting me back on my feet.

“Look, I know I’m probably—no, definitely—I realize I’m scaring the hell out of you right now. It’s just—check your phone.”

My— “What?”

“Your phone. There’s a text. Read it. Please.”

I wake up the screen. The notification’s right there: on my way. explain when I get there. From Max. “Max is coming? So what?”

“It’s him—don’t you get it?” Wes advances on me, eyes wide and crazed. “It’s Max. It’s revenge—he hates you. He’s going to fuck you and ditch you and laugh at you, just like you did to him.”

“Okay—okay, let’s talk about this.” I grab Wes by the arm and herd him toward the kitchen table. He goes willingly enough, sinking into one of the rickety chairs at my urging. “I can see where you’d think that, but it can’t have been Max.”

“But—”

“No.” I smooth his hair back from his face. No fever—he’s just losing it. “The blackmail didn’t start with Dev. It started ten years ago. I got a note the night before the wedding—I had to run.”

Wes stares at me, uncomprehending.

“Don’t you see? Why would Max bother with revenge, if he broke up his own wedding?”

“Because he didn’t.” Wes laughs, thin and hysterical. “He—oh, Kate, I wrote that note, and I’m sorry, and I told him right after, the second I got him alone. I tried to fix it, but he didn’t care. He hates you, and I’m sorry, and we have to—”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t believe you. Max doesn’t hate me.” I take a step back, realization dawning. “And it’s you. You did this.”

Wes stares at me with huge, wet eyes. His mouth falls open.

“Why?”

He hugs himself, gulping sickly.

“Don’t just stand there! Why?”

“It’s not what you think.”

Goddammit, it’s exactly what I think, or he’d be denying it right now. “I’m calling the cops.”

“No—wait!” He grabs for my phone, misses, and topples to his knees. I take a step back, and another, already dialing.

Wes springs like a cheetah. I shriek, and we tumble together, down to the filthy floor.