Pete rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly, and I realized in bewilderment he was weeping. “The next day, Renn. The next day was…” Pete practically choked on his words. “The next day was the day she took the pills.”
Pete snuffled and his nails made crescents in his palms as he squeezed his hands. He was no longer trying to stem the tears. He wouldn’t have been able to, as furiously as they were coming. And he summed up his confession in a breath between sobs. “I stayed away because it’s my fault the boys’ mom killed herself.”
CHAPTER
Thirteen
February 13, 2015
The next tenminutes were somehow both predictable and fraught. I knew before he said so that Renn would not blame Pete for Mary’s suicide. People cheat and people grieve, but they don’t all kill themselves. By the end, Renn didn’t exactly embrace his uncle, but he said he understood Pete’s reasoning for staying away. It was plain that Pete regretted his actions, that the burden of his secret had cost him dearly, but with everything now out in the open, they might finally be able to move past it. Renn also conceded that, deep down, he understood Thomas had died in an accidental drowning which wasn’t Pete’s fault.
As to the affair, Renn told his uncle Robbie would have a tough time getting over it, but Renn himself came around to my way of thinking—that the affair was between Pete, Mary, and Thomas, and it made little sense for Pete to keep trying to make amends with people who weren’t alive to forgive him.
I knew Renn hadn’t let go of all his anger, but at least he was saying the right things and attempting to improve the situation.
Renn reached for me as he and his uncle quietly conversed, once again putting his hand in mine. He squeezed my palm gratefully, and it appeared the worst had passed. I hoped Renn’s family could heal. Perhaps even grow closer.
Or not.
I looked over and noticed Archie standing stiffly in front of his station. He hadn’t said a word since giving his account of Thomas’s perspective and seemed unmoved by Renn’s capacity to forgive his uncle.
“Tell him the rest,” Archie’s voice commanded as he looked at Pete, still seated by the door.
Pete appeared confused at first, but then turned his tear-stained face to the blond man. “Archie—”
“The rest?” Renn directed an accusatory glare at Pete. “What more is there?” He bounced his eyes between the two older men and implored, “Haven’t we had enough secrets? I want everything out on the table. Now.”
“Tell him, Pete.”
Pete ran a hand over his forehead and blinked, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Archie assaulted him with his unrelenting gaze as the air thickened.
“Tell me what?” Pete and Archie continued their silent standoff. Renn grew impatient and I realized that, even though he’d returned to rationality, he was still very much on edge. “Seriously, what is it?”
Pete opened and closed his mouth twice before murmuring the barest whisper. “Gage.”
“Gage? What about Ga—”
Renn put it together at the same moment I did. Pete was thirty-eight. The card was for his thirtieth birthday. Archie looked at us before lifting his chin to the sky, mouthing inaudible words—to Thomas, I assumed. Renn’s grip on my hand moved from strong to viselike as he pulled me over with him, stalking his uncle until they were nose to nose. White-hot anger radiated through his features.
“Is Gage yours?” Renn didn’t soften it.
Pete looked like he was about to launch into some sort of speech, but his nephew was having none of it, cutting him off before he could begin with a wave of his palm.
“It’s a simple question.”
“Renn, I—”
“Is…He…Yours?” The words were quiet, but spoken with such hostility, it took me aback.
Renn’s arm lifted menacingly. I blanched, thinking he was about to slap Pete, but he merely reached to grab the decorative octopus-in-a-jar from a shelf behind his uncle’s head, as though this moment would be easier if he had something to hold on to.
Something other than my hand, since he chose that moment to let it go.
Renn fondled the container, calmly running his fingers along the smooth glass, jostling the sea creature suspended inside. His body was taut, breathing even as he rolled the mason jar back and forth, twisting it in his palms, rage seemingly contained by the repetitive motion.
Until it wasn’t.
“Is. He. Yours!?” The raw fury oozing from his pores unleashed itself as he hurled the jar across the studio, glass shattering as the octopus landed on the wall, sliming its way down to the floor. Renn glared unblinkingly at his uncle.
