The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester by Maya MacGregor

Author:Maya MacGregor [MacGregor, Maya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635923599
Publisher: Astra Publishing House
Published: 2022-05-02T18:30:00+00:00

* * *

Shep and Esme go home at half past seven, leaving me to face Dad on two fronts.

“So,” he says. I turn off the water where I was getting a glass to drink. “You really like Shep.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I might have uh … kissed her. Or she kissed me. I dunno. We kissed.”

Dad starts laughing without making much sound, his shoulders shaking as he chuckles and lowers his chin to his chest.

“What’s so funny?”

“I appreciate your forthrightness,” he says. “But you’re not dating her, eh?”

“We’ve never gone on a date.” I don’t get what he’s asking, and he just chuckles again.

“It looks like emotions run pretty high around the Clement kid,” Dad says then, and all evidence of his laughter is gone. “I don’t really feel comfortable with you and Shep looking into it more.”

“Everyone says it was an accident.” I hate even pushing the sentence out of my mouth since it feels like repeating a lie. Dad’s words douse me with cold water though, especially after feeling like Shep and I can really do this.

Dad comes up to the kitchen sink and puts one hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eye. “That may be so, but I know you don’t believe that, and let’s just say that after a decade or so of Sam Sylvester, I think your instincts are right. And if they are, in this case, if somebody killed that boy, they’ve gotten away with it for thirty years. That makes them dangerous.”

“Do you think they’d stay here? If they got away with it, they could leave and be sure they’d never be caught.” I don’t know if it’s because of Dad telling me to back off or that he’s right, but my stomach feels ready to slosh my meal right back up.

“It’s possible,” Dad says. “But I want you safe. That’s the part that is true no matter what else is.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Dad pushes my hair away from my neck, where I know he can see the scar. “I’ve had some bad days, and I’ve had some bad nights. But the worst of all by far was the night I saw the car pull up and you got out and fell onto the driveway. If Lee hadn’t grown a conscience—”

“I think she just didn’t want to be a murderer.”

We’re actually talking about it. We never talk about it.

“It would have been hours before I missed you, Sam,” Dad says, dropping his hand to his side. He swallows. “Even though I knew where you were going, by the time I could have gotten someone to drive me out there—”

“Stop, please,” I breathe. I can’t think about the what ifs of that night because I know what’s coming. I know he could have a day that beats that one for worst of his life, and my stomach knots in on itself. “Daddy, I’m here now. I’m okay.”

The acid in my stomach turns to rage. For Billy, I think. For me, maybe, or all of them at once, every page in my book.

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