Page 24 of What’s Left of You (What Left #2)

“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 his new 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.”

I shake my head, glancing back at him. “Alex Grey is so pretty though. Better than Emeric.”

“I take offense to that.”

Al clears his throat, drawing my attention again. I offer him a smile, and he gives me one in return. He has dimples, and immediately I like him just a tiny bit better. “Not Alex. Alastair. Alastair Constantine.”

“He was a kid thrown into the foster system because his mother died,” Vinny says, and I blink as the memory fades.

He’s gotten up from the bed too, leaning against the corner of it as he watches me.

“He told us that, Jo. If Porscha influenced him, she led him into the abyss. Alastair had problems but not to the scale he does now.”

Is that supposed to make me feel better? I shake my head, turning my attention to the window. It’s raining outside, making the window hard to see out of. “My mom… she made my life hard too. I know she had her grievances with me, but I didn’t think it extended to other people.”

I didn’t think it extended to killing people. I know mom has to be responsible for at least one body, and probably significantly more too.

“You can’t bear the burden of your mothers sins,” Vinny tells me, crossing the room. “You can fight your demons all night, Trauma, or I can take it away for you.”

My eyes drift to the window again. “What if they’re out there right now?”

“Could be. I remember your mother hating storms.”

“She does,” I reply, continuing to stare at the glass. “She used to hide from the thunder and lightning like a kid, but maybe that’s changed over the years. I used to go out and dance in it.”

“Well, if you want to keep believing Alastair is somehow the hero, he might use this time to escape. You know, if they are still together.”

I lick my lips. “If he’s still alive.”

The words hang in the air around us, and Vinny draws me into his side. His fingers trace down one of the scars but it does nothing to distract me from the storm outside.

Tomorrow, Sterling is supposed to meet up with us. Like he’s done for the past weeks, dropping details of the case but mostly just checking in.

“I want you to make me numb,” I tell Vinny, my voice staying soft. “I don’t want to feel anything anymore.”

He hesitates. “Do you want one of the sleeping pills?”

Shaking my head, I turn and trace his lips with my finger. “I want you to make me forget Florida for a few hours. And in the morning I want you to grovel for my forgiveness after that stunt you pulled at your parents.”

His eyes flash in the light, and then his lips open and suck on my finger. Our gazes lock, and he coats my finger in saliva down to the knuckle before I pull back and pop it free.

“You might be my Master in the bedroom,” I say, circling his lips again with the pad of my wet finger. “But you grovel at my altar for forgiveness.”

He smirks. “Whatever you desire from me, Trauma, just say the word. I’ll give you everything I have.”