Page 63 of The Lies Always Told (Baker Oaks #4)

“No. You don’t get to say that. It wasn’t.

You didn’t wake up and decide to bring a gun to work.

You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t do anything wrong.

Why do you think it was your fault? Why do you think you aren’t allowed to feel sad?

You’re allowed to feel whatever it is you’re feeling, Nellie, regardless of what you think, of what other people think.

” I stop because I haven’t given her time to even answer one question.

I wish I could get inside her brain and iron out all her thoughts, all her feelings.

I wish I could pluck them out, one at a time, and shed some light on them, show them to her with a big ass magnifying glass so she knows the reality.

Her brain is lying to her, just like it was lying to her about my feelings.

“Why? You want honesty? Give it to me. Let me take it all. Tell me…why?”

She stays quiet for a long time, and I don’t rush her. The weight of her against me, the way she lets herself lean into me, is enough to tell me she trusts me with this, with her pain, even if she doesn’t have the words for it yet.

After a while, she whispers, “How much time do you have?”

“For you? A lifetime.” She nods and pulls the blanket around her as she lays on the pillows so she can face me.

“How much do you know about what happened?”

“Not much. A kid brought a gun to school and shot Nick. That’s all I know.”

“Josh. His name was Josh,” she exhales, rubbing a hand over her face as she musters the courage to say whatever happened.

“I didn’t know him personally, and honestly, I don’t think most people in town did.

Funny how that works, isn’t it? How nobody really noticed him until now.

He had football and school, and then school was hard because others didn’t see him struggling.

Just another jock in the background, not part of the popular crowd but not a loner either.

He was with everyone, but nobody noticed him. Invisible—until he wasn’t.”

I lean back, looking at her, quietly waiting for her to continue.

I’m not rushing her. I’m letting her share, in her own time.

“His little brother, Cody, though…he was different. He was in my office all the time, every single day, sometimes twice. Funny kid. Sweet, too. Always had something to say but never anything too deep. It was mostly small talk—pointless stuff, I thought. I never thought twice about it, you know?. And now? Now, I see it. Now, I realize that’s all he ever gave me.

Surface-level things. He never let me in.

I never pushed. Because why would I? He looked happy.

He seemed fine. But you know what they say about people who smile the most.”

I can see her swallowing hard as she shakes her head and wipes away tears.

“Turns out, things at home weren’t so good.

Their parents…they had their own issues, though I don’t know the full story.

What I do know is that they controlled everything—food, toiletries, even clothes, locked th em up like they were privileges instead of basic needs.

If the boys wanted something, they had to earn it through physical labor.

And if they spoke up? If they dared to tell anyone?

They were threatened with starvation. And Josh… Josh got the worst of it.”

She closes her eyes and lets out a breath before looking at me.

I hold her hand and make the small circles she likes on her wrist, touching her scars gently, reminding her I’m here for it all.

“He wasn’t like Cody. He was quieter, more withdrawn, not as well-liked.

But football…that gave him something. A place to be.

A purpose.” She lets out a humorless chuckle.

“Didn’t matter, though. Some kids saw him stashing food in his backpack one day and made a joke out of it.

That joke lasted two years. Two damn years of taunts, whispers, laughter at his expense.

And his parents found out, but instead of protecting him, they punished him.

They took away even more. They starved him, Gus.

Abused him. Not in the way people think—not through bruises or belts.

No, they just…let him waste away. Quietly.

Subtly. They never laid a hand on him, but they still hurt him, or at least that’s what the principal shared with me. ”

I look up, meeting her eyes. “Do you know what that does to a kid? To be constantly hungry, to feel that kind of emptiness every single day? To be mocked at school and tormented at home? To have nowhere—no one—to turn to? He was starving, Gus, in every way a person can be. His dad brought the gun out the night before and threatened the family. The mom too. Suddenly, Josh had too much. He brought the gun to scare his classmates, to stop the bullying, but nobody knew that. In a time of school shootings and safety meetings, in a time of lockdown drills and everyone preparing for the worst, everyone thought that was his end goal. It happened during Home Economics class. Nick was his Home Ec teacher, but he was also his coach. He got in between Josh and the students, and when he thought he had the upper hand, he tried to snatch the gun away, and Josh accidentally pulled the trigger. It was an accident. Josh didn’t even know it had a bullet in it, or so he told the police.

Something that never should have happened, something I should’ve seen coming. ”

“How, Nellie?” I keep my voice low, steady. “How should you have seen it coming?”

She shakes her head, staring at the floor like the answer might be written in the cracks between the tiles. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I just should have.”

“Nobody could’ve predicted that.” I lean in, trying to catch her eyes, but she won’t look at me. “If anyone should have seen something, it’s the high school counselors, right? Not you.”

Her lips press together. Guilt sits heavy in her eyes, and I know she doesn’t believe me.

“The kid you talked to—Cody?” I continue. “He seemed fine. You did the best you could with the information you had.” I hesitate for a second then push forward. “It’s not your fault.”

Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t argue. Not yet.

“Who sent you that letter?” I ask.

Her head snaps up. “What letter?”

I don’t miss the way her breath catches, the way her fingers tighten around the edge of her sleeve. She wasn’t expecting that. I might not get another chance to bring it up.

“You know what letter,” I say quietly.

She swallows hard. “Cody.”

“He got pulled from his home,” she continues.

“Sent out of state to live with his grandparents. He must have slipped it through the door in my office. When I went to talk to the principal and he told me everything, I found it in there. His parents are under investigation, and his brother…” She exhales shakily.

“He’ll probably get sentenced after his trial.

Cody is twelve. Twelve . And his whole world just collapsed. It’s a lot,” she murmurs .

“He’s angry,” I say. Suddenly, I get it. The letter. The blame. The sharp edges in her voice when she said she should have known. He’s not just angry. He’s heartbroken. He’s terrified. And he’s got nowhere to put it.

“You can’t let this haunt you,” I tell her. “He’s a kid. You said it yourself. He’s lashing out because he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s not your fault, and he doesn’t mean it.”

Her eyes flick to mine. “How do you know?”

I exhale, leaning back. “Because, for different reasons, I lashed out just like he did.”

She doesn’t move, but I feel her listening.

“I didn’t understand what was happening to me.

I blamed my parents for giving me genetic and hereditary conditions, like it was something they did on purpose.

And my dad, well, he was controlling. He was always pushing for us to do the most, even when my body struggled.

I felt like I was never enough. I mean, I always did, but in that moment, it was worse.

If I’m being honest, my dad’s still that way.

I just don’t care anymore.” I let out a short, humorless laugh.

“I didn’t mean it, but I was hormonal, and sad, and afraid, and—yeah, angry.

Angry at how unfair everything was. Angry I had to deal with it at all. I bet Cody feels the same way.”

I shake my head. “You’re just an easy target. You are who Manny was to me. Manny was there to be my punching bag when I needed it. You are that for Cody.”

“Why?” Her voice is small.

“Because you care.” I let that sit between us for a second.

“Because the two people who were supposed to protect him didn’t.

Because he trusted you, and now, his brain is playing tricks on him.

Because he’s scared, and he doesn’t know how to say it, but he knows you won’t hurt him.

No matter what he says, he knows you won’t harm him.

” I hold her gaze. “You did your job. It had a terrible outcome, but, Nellie—it’s not your fault.

You did everything right, and the outcome still sucks, but that’s life.

You can’t live with the what-ifs forever.

You did everything you could do with the information you had. ”

“And someone still died.”

“Someone died. I’m sorry for that. I’m so terribly sorry, but it was an accident. A terrible accident. It’s not your fault.”

Her lips part, but no words come. I see it, though. The way her shoulders sag just a little, like maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to believe me.

“He’ll hate me forever. I told the police what he said, and that led them to look into it deeper. Cody’s not in trouble, but his parents are. He won’t ever forgive me.”

“And while that might be true, you need to forgive yourself. You did everything you were supposed to do, as hard as it is. Maybe let him blame you. He’ll hopefully get help, and he’ll eventually see the bigger picture, but in the meantime, let him hate the one person who won’t hate him back.

Be that person for him, even if from afar.

Sometimes, there are lies worth letting become truth, in order to protect our hearts. Protect his , baby girl.”

“That’s a fucked up way to put it.”

“Maybe, but am I wrong?” She shakes her head and closes her eyes as he lets it all sink in.

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t say anything else.

She just waits. I hold her hand and trace small circles on her wrist, on the spot where she once felt it was her only way out.

I keep doing it so I can remind her she never has to go through things by herself again.

I remind her with every touch how I will always be here for her, how I will always help her find a way.

“And when he’s ready…be here for him, and you can talk. Even if that is in a year, or two, or ten. Maybe never, but at least he’ll know he has you. When everyone else is a song, you can skip, be his eight-track, steady and consistent. Be his soundtrack.”

I’m lost in thought, touching her skin, looking at her. I almost miss her talking. “His shore. When everyone is a wave, I can be his shore.” I nod, and she smiles.

She shakes her head. “I’m so lightheaded and my head feels heavy at the same time.”

I chuckle and say, “Yeah, you have a hell of a hangover, and you need to eat. Come on. I have food for you.”