Page 91 of Wrap Around

“You can’t change what God never hated in the first place,” he says, and squeezes my hand.

Abraham Caldwell can’t stop us from loving each other. And he can’t break Silas anymore, just like my father can’t break me. For our entire childhoods, we dealt with them on our own, never knowing what the other was truly struggling with. But now, today, we have each other. And we will from now on.

A click reverberates in the air. The sound echoes in my teeth. We both turn.

Abraham Caldwell is holding a pistol, aimed directly at his son.

“You willburn,” he says. “Leviticus 20:13:‘They shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.’”

Silas raises both hands, calm as he can, like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal. He takes a step to the left, in front of me, and another towards his father. I can’t hear what he’s saying, trying to talk the unstable, ignorant asshole with a gun down. I can barelyhear Lily’s screams from the front porch, or Addy’s frantic cries. Someone calls out Abraham’s name, my mother maybe?

The rushing of my blood drowns it all out, until I can’t hear anything over the slow, rhythmic thumping of my heart.

Thump Thump

Everything happens in slow motion.

Thump Thump

Silas keeps moving away from me.

Thump Thump

A finger twitches over the trigger, almost imperceptibly.

Thump Thump

And then the gun goes off.

CHAPTER 33

SILAS

My knees ache on the floor of the hospital chapel, forehead pressed to the back of the pew in front of me, arms draped over the wooden rail like it’s holding me up. My tears hit the speckled linoleum floor one by one, silent and steady.

I don’t know if I came here to pray or just to breathe.

Maybe I should be out there with Lily, or Mrs. Shepherd, trying to be strong for someone else. Maybe I should be holding Addy, telling her that her uncle is going to be okay, even if I’m not sure I believe it myself. She’s scared and restless, doesn’t understand what’s happening.

But I can’t.

Not when I can still feel his blood on my hands, hot and wet as it poured out of him. Not when the crack of the gun still rings in my ears. Two deafening shots that blew apart my entire world.

Bullets that were meant for me. Not for Gideon. That was my death, and he took it, traded it for this all-encompassing pain. I won’t live much longer than he will at this rate. I can’t survive it.

He wasn’t supposed todie for me.

My father aimed straight at my heart, and Gideon—fucking Gideon—threw himself in front of me like it was planned.

His blood is still on my skin, soaked into my shirt. It’s cold now, not like how hot it was when it poured between my fingers. My palms pressed hard to the wounds, crying, begging…

Stay with me, baby. Please, stay. I need you. I need you. I need you.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to scream.

The door creaks open behind me.

I don’t look up. I don’t have the energy.