Page 39 of The Brat's Bargain

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Page 39 of The Brat's Bargain

“I know, but I disagree with you. They like you, York. They genuinely like you. For you, for who you are, not because of anything Essex did.”

Could he be right? Nah, I doubted it. “Everything’s always about Essex. He’s been dead for over twenty years, yet somehow, he’s still at the center of my world, like everything still revolves around him. He’s the bane of my existence, and he always has been.”

We’d reached home, and as always, Quillon checked the house carefully before he allowed me to walk in. He made us both a cup of tea, and we settled in the living room. I curled my hands around the warm cup and pulled up my legs. Tomás had picked a great couch, deep enough to sleep on comfortably and soft enough to snuggle in.

“You can listen to music if you don’t want to talk,” Quillon said.

“No, I’m good.” Funnily enough, I meant it despite the fact that I hated talking about it. Somehow, talking to Quillon was easier than talking to anyone else, even Fir.

“When I was fifteen, my baby sister, Charlotte, died,” Quillon said softly. I sat up straight. “She was only seven. Six months earlier, she’d been diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor, and she never stood a chance.”

“Oh, Quillon, I’m so sorry.” My heart filled with compassion for him. “How awful to lose her that young.”

“It was, and my parents took it hard. It took maybe six months for my mom to smile again, and she was never the same, but over time, the cloud of grief surrounding her dissipated. Charlotte became a part of our memories. We often talked about her, and we still do. On her birthday, we imagine what she’d do if she were still alive. On occasions like weddings, we shed a tear because we’re reminded of what she never got to experience. But we continued living as a family, and my parents never treated me or my brother and sister differently because of Charlotte.”

I understood what he was saying. “She’s part of your past, but life has gone on. You’ve moved on.”

Quillon nodded. “As it should, as we should. What your parents are doing… It’s not normal, York, and it’s not healthy. Not for them, not for you, not for anyone. Well, except your brother, perhaps. Essex was so arrogant he’d get some perverse satisfaction out of it.”

I snorted, then full-out laughed. I’d never looked at it like that, but yeah, Essex would’ve loved being the center of attention, the asshole. “He would have… Jesus, you’re so right about that.”

Quillon laughed with me, but then his laugh faded, and he leaned toward me. “So don’t give him the satisfaction, York. You can’t change what your parents do or think or feel, but you can stop making Essex the center of your world. Step away from it, from him, and let go.”

My throat tightened, and tears filled my eyes. “I don’t know how.”

He got up and sat next to me, and without thinking, I snuggled against him. His arm came around me, and I put my head on his shoulder.

“Maybe I’m wrong, but it feels as if you’ve been holding on to him because, on some level, you’re still hoping for an apology.”

“He’s dead. Dead men can’t apologize.”

“No, but that hasn’t stopped you from hoping for something to paint a different picture of him, anything to shed some light on why he was such an asshole to you, anything to understand why this happened…and maybe why no one saw it. Don’t you think that’s why you told his friends? Because you hoped that maybe they could offer some closure?”

His words stabbed like daggers with icy precision. My heart pounded, and I struggled to breathe, my lungs heaving like a boulder was pressing on me. Was he right? Was that what I had been doing?

A few tears spilled over. I had never understood why Essex had done it. “Do you think he hated me because I was smarter than him?”

“Maybe, but bullies don’t always need a reason to hate. They’re messed up inside. You did nothing to trigger it, York. This was all Essex. He chose that path.”

“I had…” My voice broke, and I had to swallow. “For so long, I hoped that he’d see reason in the Marines, that they’d teach him right from wrong…and that he’d apologize.”

“And him dying took that away as well.” Quillon tightened his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think he would ever have apologized to you.”

The truth. There it was, in all its ugliness, in all its crushing clarity. And yet, it brought freedom too. Knowing that even if he had been alive, Essex wouldn’t have apologized somehow took a weight off me. As if I was releasing something I’d been holding on to for a long time, and maybe I was. Maybe this was what I had needed to hear to be able to let go of Essex.

Quillon was right. My parents had held on to Essex, but so had I. I had allowed him to take up way too much space in my head, my heart, and my soul. He had influenced everything I’d done so far, had darkened my life, diminished my joy. In a way, he had been my measuring stick, my compass.

But no more. I was ready to be free.

12

QUILLON

“Do you think everyone believes we’re boyfriends?” York asked me the next morning over breakfast, a farmer’s omelet with a heap of veggies, ham, mushrooms, onions, and a few bits of bacon. The melted cheese on top made it even better.

I frowned. “What brought that question on?”

York scraped his beard. “After Marnin called us out, I said we should practice more. But you only kissed me that one time.”


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