“You . . . you don’t know . . . you don’t know how to fix it?” A sarcastic laugh originates in my belly. “Seriously? Are you a goddamn moron, Misty?”
Her eyes gloss, filling and spilling over in seconds.
“Tell the fucking truth!” I scream at her. “Go to the police and tell them you lied. Tell them the truth about what really happened.”
She sniffs, wiping away thick tears with the sleeve of her shirt.
“Rick fucking raped you, Misty,” I say. “I drove up there to help you. And you ruined my life.”
“If I tell the truth,” she sobs, “I’ll go to jail.”
“What?” I huff. “You don’t think you deserve to spend a little time behind bars? You think you should walk away from what you did unscathed? Do you have any idea what my life has been like for seven long years? Any at all?”
Misty buries her face in her hands, bawling. Muffled cries are the only response I get.
“Tell the truth, Misty. You can’t change what you and Rick did that night, but you can clear my name. It’s the least you could do, don’t you think?” My fist is balled against my forehead. “I just want my fucking name back. I want everyone to know you lied about that night, and I want my name off the goddamn sex offender registry.”
“I don’t want to go to jail, Royal.” Her lip trembles.
I smirk. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you now?”
She shakes her head. “I know I fucked up. I know I did. If I could take it back, I would. I just want you to forgive me. And now that Rick died, I’ve never felt more alone. You and Mom are all I have. I don’t even have any friends. Rick never wanted me to. Shit, he barely let me leave the house most days. Kept me high as a kite so I’d stay close to him.”
I lift a brow. “So you’re admitting he was a manipulative piece of shit?”
Misty rolls her eyes. “Yeah. I’ve been seeing a counselor at the addiction center, and she’s helping me to see the bigger picture. Rick used me.”
“Tried telling you that a long time ago.”
“I really thought he loved me.” She wipes another tear. “All I ever wanted was for someone to love me.”
“I loved you.”
“But it wasn’t enough. I wanted someone who wanted to see me every day. Who made me feel special. Loved me in a deeper way. It was never anything you did wrong, Royal. It’s just what I needed at the time, and Rick gave that to me.” Misty shrugs, lifting her eyes into mine. “He threatened me that night. Made up this story. Told me what to say to the police. Said if I didn’t, he’d kill you and make me fuck all his friends while he watched.”
“Jesus, Misty.” My chin tucks against my chest. The tiniest sliver of my heart wants to protect her, but I’ve spent so long hating her that my sympathy chip has become desensitized to her bullshit. She’s a proven liar. This could be just another lie of hers. Another manipulation.
“I love you, Royal. You might not love me, but you’re my brother. The only one I have. And I’ll love you forever.” She wraps her skinny arms around her narrow body, the sleeves of her sweater hanging past her fingers. “This wasn’t easy for me. To come here. To tell you I’m sorry. But I hope someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me. If not for me, for yourself.”
She sounds coached, like she’s repeating the lines her counselor fed her, but at least she’s here. I won’t discount how hard it was for her to darken my doorstep after the last time.
“Misty.” I drag in a slow, intentional breath and let it go. “Just tell the fucking truth. Go to the police. Tell the truth. Make this right.”
With watered eyes, she glances down at my feet again. Her mouth pulls into a bittersweet smile as she looks up at me. Her mouth parts, like she’s about to say something, and then she stops.
My sister walks away like the fucking coward she is.
Chapter Forty-Five
Demi
{one week later}
“Brooks was transferred to a rehabilitation facility.” Mom pours two cups of coffee Friday morning, one for her and one for Dad. She turns to face me, her face strained. “I know. I know you don’t care, but I thought you might want to know.”
I shrug it off. “Whatever. I’m sure Afton’s right by his side, tending to his every whim and discussing which color to paint the nursery.”
She shoots me a look that’s meant to scold, but her amused smirk gives away her true opinion.
I follow her to the family room, where Dad’s reading the paper with cable news turned up to an ear-piercing volume in the background. Mom grabs the remote and turns it down about thirty notches.