Where Silence Gathers by Kelsey Sutton Page A

walls.
    But the sound of my heart breaking is louder.

Ten
    Nate Foster has been sitting in his car for seven minutes.
    He doesn’t notice me on the street, parked in the shadows. I watch him with a frown. He doesn’t move, just stares straight ahead at the garage door. As though he sees something there that I can’t. Before the end, I want him to see my family on that blank surface. The same way I do.
    His wife is waiting for him, I can tell; she keeps pacing through the house and glancing at something out of sight. A clock, probably. Sometimes I wish I could destroy every clock in the world, just so I can’t keep track of how much time has passed since I heard my brother’s laugh.
    It doesn’t make sense, that Forgiveness appears beside me a moment later. I can’t deal with him tonight. Not after what happened with Andrew. Tonight I’m just fury wrapped in skin and muscle, about to explode any second. The gun feels warm in my hand, like an old friend.
    Forgiveness must sense this, because he doesn’t try to talk sense to me. For six more minutes we exist in silence. With Revenge, the wordlessness is painful and thrilling, full of maybes. With Forgiveness, it’s just painful. Like I’m being torn in half or pulled toward something. I don’t have to look at him to know that he’s gazing at me with those eyes of his. Wide, blue, fathomless. Shining, as if he understands my pain.
    â€œHunter was four,” I whisper suddenly. The words just slip out, as though they’ve been waiting under my tongue, patiently biding their time for the right moment. I’m helpless to stop them. “I remember he was going through this phase where he was just absolutely obsessed with airplanes. I would get so mad at him, because he’d leave these plastic models all over the floor, and I’d step on them all the time.”
    After I’ve spoken, a stillness surrounds us, and it feels as though my heart has finally stopped its painful beat. I don’t let myself wonder what the cause of this is: speaking of Hunter after all these years … or Forgiveness.
    The stars don’t exist right now. Clouds hide them, and even the moon struggles to be seen. I shift so I’m closer to the windshield, trying to find that faint glow so at least one person can acknowledge it. Then Forgiveness ruins the quiet by murmuring, “Tell me more.”
    The sound of his voice makes my blood quicken. “No.” I focus on that door.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’m not playing this game with you.”
    â€œIt’s not a game, Alexandra.”
    â€œThen what the hell is it?”
    â€œIt’s a conversation.”
    â€œNot now. Not with you.” My grip tightens on the gun. Of course the Choice would show up now. It’s a test, a temptation, a splash of ink on the page I’ve already written. In front of me, Nate Foster waits. It would be so easy. I close my eyes and imagine doing it. Bam. Thud. Blood . I could. I should. I will.
    I stiffen when Nate Foster finally gets out of his car. He tugs at his tie—I don’t know where he works now, but before the accident he was a manager at the factory—and walks toward the front door as if his shoes are lined with lead. There aren’t any Emotions to give him away. Yellow light slants over the lawn as the door opens, and I reach for my own door handle. This is my chance. Here it is. Going, going. Why can’t I move ?
    Then the door is closing, and Nate Foster is gone. Missed my chance. Again.
    Damn it. Exhaling through my teeth, I ease away from the handle and go back to tapping that erratic beat on my thigh. My hold loosens and tightens on the gun some more. Loosens and tightens. I feel Forgiveness’s gaze. “Do you ever just sit still?” he asks me, sounding genuinely curious.
    â€œNope.” I glare so hard at the door now that I don’t understand how it hasn’t burst