Brightly (Flicker #2) (56 page)

“I can’t,” he said again, quieter. “I’m sorry.”

“Think about it,” Amelia urged. “It’s not set in stone.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Well, take this anyway.” Amelia drew something out of her pocket and handed it to him. “If you need something—if there’s something else that’s in my power to do—”

“You have
business cards?
” he asked, goggling at the white rectangle of cardstock. Only her name was printed on the card, in small, black type. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t something this ordinary.

“People have to be able to get a hold of me somehow,” she said.

“There’s no contact information.”

“Oh, it doesn’t work that way. If you decide to take me up on my offer, just write a date, a time and an address on the back of the card, then burn it.”

“Burn it?” he repeated.

She nodded. “I’ll get the message that way, and I’ll come get you. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Nasser said. “Yeah, I do.”

Flashing him a small smile, Amelia stood and crossed to the door. When she opened it, she hesitated, looking over her shoulder at him. “Promise me you’ll think about it. Take some time and really consider.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nasser lied.

Chapter Thirty:

As soon as Nasser could tolerate the trip—two days after Amelia left Siren Island—they returned to Bridgestone. Filo was relieved to be going home at last, where their lives would be their own again. Being on the island was starting to make him feel claustrophobic.

Because they had no other way of reaching the mainland, they boarded
Eudora
and sailed back to Seattle with Henry, Clementine and Davis. The voyage had been tense. Nobody spoke. To Filo’s great chagrin, halfway between Siren and Seattle, he succumbed to his seasickness, staggered onto the deck and vomited over the side.

They couldn’t rent a car in Seattle and they had no better alternative, so the five of them had begrudgingly accepted another ride in Henry’s van.

The silent, seven-hour drive was a nightmare. Filo had tried not to look at Henry, but it was no use. He kept glancing at the driver’s seat from the corner of his eye, trying to memorize Henry in glimpses, then hating himself for being so sentimental.

After depositing Nasser and Jason outside their apartment building, Henry had swung around to Flicker to drop off Filo, Alice and Lee. Filo had thought he would feel relieved when the Brightly trio were finally gone, but as he watched the van rumble around the corner and disappear, he didn’t know quite what he felt.

Alice had elected to walk back to Sandpiper, while Filo and Lee hurried upstairs to the apartment. The two of them had been unpacking and reorganizing for the better part of an hour—Lee’s decision, not Filo’s.

When Filo went downstairs to double-check the locks on the front door, he stopped in confusion. Henry stood on the sidewalk in front of the shop, looking anxious and sort of ill.

Filo threw the door open and let it slam behind him as he rounded on Henry. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Henry’s mouth opened and closed several times before he finally managed, weakly, “I don’t want to leave it like this.”

For a moment, Filo was taken aback. He frowned. “How long have you been skulking around out here?”

“Like, half an hour,” Henry admitted. “I almost knocked about ten different times. I was just about to leave. You know, I had this whole speech planned out, and now I can’t remember any of it.”

“Spare me,” Filo said stonily. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to talk to you. If you’ll let me.”

That made Filo pause. They’d barely spoken to each other since the night they returned from Otherworld, and their last real conversation had been a disaster. That night, Filo was a bundle of anger and nerves, so scared Nasser would die that he almost threw up.

When Henry came downstairs, Filo had lashed out at him until he finally fled. In the moment, it felt right. Nasser was dying, and Henry was as much to blame as Clementine or Davis for bringing them to Siren Island. Filo had made sure to say so:
Why couldn’t you just leave us alone? If he dies, it’s your fault! His blood is never washing off your hands!

He saw Henry’s face as the other boy rushed out of the basement—shock, blanching into pain—and, despite everything, he felt like a monster. He’d punched the wall when Henry was gone, as hard as he could. For a moment, the pain in his hand had blocked out everything else. Just for a moment.

Now Filo looked at Henry and tried to figure out what Henry could possibly want with him. He wanted to ask, but in the end, all he said was, “I thought you’d be on the road by now.”

“It’s a long drive, so we’re heading out in the morning. I walked here from the motel. I thought…” Henry exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come.”

He turned and started away. Against his better judgment, Filo called, “Where are you staying?”

Pausing, Henry said, “The motel’s on Heath Street.”

“Well, if that’s where you’re headed, you’re going the wrong way,” Filo said wearily. Without giving himself a chance to change his mind, he said, “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Filo started up the sidewalk, in the opposite direction. A moment later, he heard Henry’s footsteps as he trotted to catch up.

“Thank you,” Henry said quietly, falling into step beside Filo.

“Don’t.”

Henry flushed, but he didn’t say anything more.

They walked in silence for a long time. Evening gathered around them, dusky and cool. As they passed two small vacant lots, all withered brown grass and gravel, separated by a chain-link fence, Henry ventured, “If you didn’t want to talk, why are you here right now?”

“Maybe I want to lead you to a vampire den and dump you there,” Filo grumbled. “It would serve you right.”

“Filo…” Henry stopped walking. He stood near the fence, watching Filo with an unreadable expression. Surrounded by the muted concrete-grays and dull brick-reds of the nearby buildings, his eyes were a wild, dark green, like a patch of shadowed woods.

Filo took a few more steps and turned into the next lot, so the fence was between them. The little diamonds of metal split Henry into pieces.

“Why did you come back?” Filo asked. “Really?”

“I told you. I only wanted to talk to you.”

“About what? What part of your little speech is supposed to make me not despise you?”

“None of it. What we did—what
I
did—” Henry grimaced. “There’s no excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t deserve it.”

Filo shook his head. “You did exactly what I would’ve done,” he acknowledged. “If it had been Alice, I would’ve done anything. No limits. Hell, it
was
Alice. So I understand why you did it. I just hate that I was stupid enough to fall for it.”

Looking pained, Henry said, “I hurt you. I hurt people you care about. I could apologize a thousand different ways, but it doesn’t make any difference. It doesn’t matter how sorry I am, because I already messed this up.”

“This?” Filo echoed.

“Us,” Henry said, softly, like something might break.

“We were always messed up.” Filo felt a throb of pain beneath his ribs as he said it.

“I keep wishing I’d met you another way,” Henry confessed. “Some normal way. I wish I’d met you in a grocery store or bumped into you on the street. But it never would’ve happened. I don’t think we could’ve met without that damn curse, and I hate that.”

“I wish I’d never met you at all,” Filo muttered. “I could’ve gone my whole life never knowing you existed.”

“And you would’ve been much happier,” Henry said miserably. “I know.”

“No, I—” Filo caught himself before he said something he couldn’t take back.

It wasn’t just what had happened. It was who had done it.

He wished it had been anyone but Henry. He wished it had been anyone but this boy who hadn’t let him drown.

Much too late, Filo realized his mistake: He had trusted Henry. He had let himself feel safe. That was usually where he went wrong. He wanted things now that he’d never wanted before. He felt things that he’d never felt before. Henry had changed him—turned him stupid, turned him soft. Henry had ruined him, and Filo had let it happen.

Filo laced his fingers through the chain link fence, squeezing until he felt the cold metal digging into his flesh. He focused on the pain for a moment. Pain was familiar. He knew how to handle it better than he knew how to handle this.

“You lied to me,” Filo said. “You had so many chances to tell me the truth, but you kept lying, even after we—”

Even after we kissed. Even after you said you liked me. Even when Nasser was dying and you came to me and asked if I was okay.
But he couldn’t say it, because that was too close to admitting how much all of it had meant to him.

“I didn’t lie about everything,” Henry said hopelessly. “I do care about you, Filo. I never meant to. It sure as hell would’ve been easier if I didn’t. But I do, and I wanted to tell you, even if you don’t believe me.”

Hesitantly, Henry reached up to where Filo still gripped the chain link and laced their fingers together. Filo couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Deep in his chest, he felt something stirring, rising. He tried to push it back down. It hurt.

“We don’t have to end it like this.” Henry spoke softly, like he was trying not to scare Filo off. “Not if you don’t want to. I don’t leave until morning. We have a little time.”

Filo’s mouth had gone dry. His heart was slamming, like he’d been running. He wanted this, wanted Henry, more than he had wanted anything in a long time—and he could have him, for a little while. But he couldn’t keep him. He could never keep anything for long.

As firmly as he could, Filo said, “I never said I liked you.”

Henry blinked. “What?”

“We were just passing the time,” Filo said, disentangling his fingers from Henry’s. When he pulled away, he felt like he’d left something behind. “It was something to do. It didn’t mean anything. And we’re not going to see each other again. It doesn’t matter.”

Suddenly, he remembered standing in those woods, holding Henry against him and feeling like something had fallen into place. He didn’t think he would ever forget that feeling, as much as he wanted to. Life had been easier without it. Simpler.

As he looked up at Henry again, through the chain link, he realized that Henry might’ve had the same feeling—but he was too afraid to think about what that might mean.

Henry’s eyes were touched by a strange sadness. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want. It doesn’t change anything.”

“If you’re angry with me, I understand. But if there’s some other reason—” Henry broke off. When he spoke again, his voice was small. “You don’t have to do this if it’s not how you really feel.”

Yes, I do,
Filo thought. He felt his insides shivering. The part of him that had started to fold open when Henry touched him had snapped shut, hard and painful, like a door slammed closed with a hand caught in the way.
I slipped. I like you too much. I can’t do this again.

“It’s done,” Filo said, as harshly as he could, trying not to flinch when Henry did. “I’m done. Find your own way back.”

He turned on his heel and left Henry in the vacant lot. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to look back.

If Filo wasn’t sinking before, he was sinking now.

Lee shifted the takeout bags in her arms so she could knock on the door. When it swung open, Nasser stood before her, crutches under his arms. She smiled up at him. “I went to that Chinese place you like.”

His eyes widened. “Have I told you how much I adore you lately?”

“I can always stand to hear it again,” Lee said. “Do you guys even have any food?”

“None.” Nasser shuffled aside so she could come in. When she stepped into the apartment, he bent to kiss her on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

Lee toed off her shoes, trundled the bags into the kitchen and gently shooed Nasser back toward the couch. She didn’t want him to stand there any longer than he had to.

She watched Nasser from the corner of her eye as he leaned his crutches against the side of the couch and carefully lowered himself. Even sitting down was difficult for him now, a task that required both hands just to keep his balance.

“We could get you a wheelchair,” Lee ventured.

Nasser shook his head. “I don’t need one.”

“It would be easier than using the crutches all the time.”

“Lee,” he said firmly, looking over the back of the couch at her. “The apartment’s small. I can get around well enough on my own. I’m not using a wheelchair.”

She hesitated, then nodded uncertainly and turned to get some plates from the cupboard. “Is Jason home?”