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I try to laugh, but even in the shadows Vinny’s eyes are intense. I can’t break from his stare, locked into the hold of his dark eyes. “He wouldn’t.”
“He doesn’t have the chance,” Vinny reasons. “If he’s caught, the FBI will jump on him. If he evades, he can’t come and find us. Even if we waited, Jo, we can’t hide him from his fate. The world knows Alastair Constantine. His crimes would follow like a shadow for the entirety of his life. Even if he wasn’t waiting for execution on Death Row, he’d still be followed by the sins for the rest of his life.”
I drop my gaze. He has a point. “Remember when he wouldn’t tell us his name? I joked it was Alex?”
Vinny doesn’t laugh, but he does snort. “Yeah, he didn’t think that was funny.”
“Emeric did.” I try to smile and fail. Alastair’s foster brother is on my mind a lot the last few days, debating if we made the right decision swapping places to come down here and appease the FBI. Maybe if Emeric were here it would give Alastair a different reason to come out of hiding. “He thought it was hilarious we believed Alastair was related to him.”
“Alex Grey,” Vinny mutters, reminding me of when we met Alastair. “He hated that damn name.”
“Well, it was wrong,” I say, shaking my head. His hands don’t leave my face, and he follows the motion of my head with his palms. “If he could be Alex Grey, things could be different.”
“But he can’t,” Vinny says quietly. “Maybe we can steal a few moments if he’s caught, but that’s all we’ll ever be. Moments stolen in time.”
“That can’t be all there is,” I mutter. All the hate that bloomed for years and years fizzles at the idea that Alastair could be well and truly gone. He has a unique look, so he’d have to change even more of himself to hide. I may never know what becomes of him if he isn’t caught. “He’s not meant to die like this.”
“Execution is better?” Vinny asks. “Dying by the hands of the state is a gentler way to go.”
“If my mom is to blame,” I begin, my voice nearly inaudible in the quiet, “maybe he doesn’t deserve to die. The guilt could be shared. It could be lessened on his side since he was a kid when the murders occurred. He could-”
“Jo,” Vinny says gently. “You’re playing a game you can’t win. Even if Alastair was corrupted by your mother, for reasons unknown, what’s left of him if you remove the impression of her?”
Frowning, I tug back from his hold. He lets me go and I find my way off the bed and towards the lightswitch. It’s blinding when I turn it on. “My mother didn’t create Alastair. He was already a tortured soul when we met him.”
“Be nice,” Emeric jokes, pointing over his shoulder. We met up to go and raid the new stock of snacks at the General Store, and he brought a tagalong.
He’s supposed to be getting a new foster brother. I wonder if this is him.
Emeric has dark, thick hair and hypnotic eyes, the kind of smoldering good looks that make the girls in our class swoon. I met Emeric before I got close to Vinny, but I’ve always been drawn to anyone I thought I could fix.
Mom always told me I had a knack for collecting broken things. Vinny comes from a powerful but dangerous and loveless family. That kind of allure made my teenage heart swell.
And so far he’s exceeded all my expectations.
“We play nice,” Vinny tells Emeric, and I nearly forgot he said anything. My gaze is hyperfocused on the hottie standing behind my friend.
Pale blond hair. Sharp features. Strange eyes - one green, one hazel. A perma-scowl rests across his face, and he’s tall. Taller than Emeric or Vinny. But his shoulders appear narrow, and I imagine as we age he will fill out nicely.
Emeric notices me studying him and snorts. “Chill, Jo. This is A.”
I wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. “A…”
“Oh, he should tell you his name,” Emeric continues, rolling his eyes. “Took me ages to drag it out of him. Hopefully he’ll make you work for it as well.”
I shrug, eyeing Vinny who returns the gesture. A looks severe but otherwise harmless, so I step around the two boys towards the stranger. “Okay, I’ll play nice. I’m Joelle Surwright. I’m friends with Emeric, and trust me, you can do better in the friend department.”
Emeric huffs and nudges my shoulder. “She has no idea what she’s talking about, brother.”
Eyeing him, I tap my chin. “A, huh? Short for the first or last name. I’m going to guess the first.”
“Try Al,” Emeric tells me. “Or maybe he could quit being antisocial and tell you himself.”
Antisocial? I don’t know if this is antisocial. He looks curious but hesitant. If he’s the new kid in a new family setting, he’s probably shy or nervous. I think Emeric is just giving hisnew foster brother a hard time, so I try my best to ignore him. “Al. Al? Like Alex?”
Vinny snorts. “Alex Grey maybe?”
“We don’t share the same last name you twits,” Emeric groans. “And it’s not Franks either before you start on that.”