Good Girl Gone
Page 48

“Nah, a girl would be sobbing, too.”
He snorts into my neck. “I think I was, earlier.”
We kiss for a minute and he whispers words of love and affection to me.
“I feel so bad you’re missing the awards show,” he says.
“There will be more. You are way more important.”
Mrs. Jameson comes to the door. “Do you want to watch the show with us?” she asks, a grin on her face when she sees me in Josh’s lap. She rubs her hands together. “I want to see if Fallen from Zero wins!”
She walks out of the room. “She knows who the Zeroes are?” I whisper to Josh.
He laughs. “She’s a metal head from way back,” he tells me. “She knows all your songs by heart. She was singing them while she made cookies this afternoon.”
I smile. “I like her a lot.”
He pulls me closer. “I do too.”
I start to say the words I need to say. It’s time. Past time. “Josh, I—” But a heavy fist raps on the door. I look up and see Emilio scowling at us.
“I want to talk to Josh,” he says sternly.
“But—”
Josh shoves me off his lap and points toward the other room. I get up reluctantly. This can’t possibly end well.
“Are you sure?” I say to him.
Josh crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me.
Emilio takes me by the shoulders and shoves me gently but firmly into the hallway. I go, but I don’t want to. Because I have no idea what Emilio is going to say or do.
Josh
Emilio doesn’t say anything immediately. He wanders around the room, occasionally running a finger across Lilly’s things. “I met Lilly,” he says. “She’s very nice.”
I nod, because I’m kind of sure he doesn’t need or want for me to speak.
“So it’s your fault she’s in the chair?”
I nod again. “Yes,” I croak out. “I drove after drinking. It was stupid. A dumb mistake, and she’s going to be paying for it for the rest of her life.”
“You feel guilty.” It’s not a question. Just a statement.
“Yes.”
“You should.” His eyes meet mine. “But she’s a happy girl. I don’t think she holds it against you.”
I nod.
“Has Star told you about what happened to her?”
“You mean with her foster father?”
“Father!” He barks out a fake laugh. “Some father.” He’s quiet for a beat. “I’m surprised she told you. She’s never told anyone.”
“I love her, Emilio.” I mean it. I told her I love her. I don’t feel bad about telling him too.
He doesn’t say anything. He just wanders around the room. But when he finally opens his mouth, I want to shut him up, because I can see the warring emotions on his face before he even speaks.
“I remember when she first came to live with us.” His jaw jumps as he grinds his teeth. “She was a little bitty thing. Skinny and lanky. But, man, when she smiled, she won my heart.” He stops and looks out the window. “She had only been with us for a week, and I was walking by her room late one night. I saw that her bedside light was on and she was reading, so I stopped in the doorway.”
I don’t interrupt him. I’m afraid to. My heart is beating like it’s going to jump from my chest.
“I knocked lightly and she nearly jumped out of the bed. She started to fidget and she set her book to the side. Then she smiled at me, but it was so strange, you know?” He turns to look at me. “No, you wouldn’t know. Even I don’t understand it. It was robotic, almost. Like she was playing a part. She motioned me forward, and then she pulled her nightgown over her head.”
My gut twists.
“I took two steps back into the hallway—staggered, really—and I just stood there, not knowing what to do or what to say. ‘Something wrong with your gown?’ I finally asked her. ‘If it’s too hot in here, I can get you a fan.’ She looked kind of confused, kind of lost for a moment, then jerked her nightgown back over her head and let it settle around her. She was a baby. Just a child. I bet she wasn’t even old enough to have her period yet. Marta handled all that stuff with the girls.”
I hold up a hand. “You shouldn’t be telling me this—”
“I’m telling you my story,” he says. “Not hers.
I force myself to listen.
“She shared a room with Wren. And as I walked away, I heard Wren whisper, ‘You don’t have to do that for this one. This one is nice.’ The light clicked off, and they went to sleep.
“I went and threw up my dinner. Marta came in and was surprised to find me in a lump on the bathroom floor, feeling like someone had just torn my heart out of my chest.” He clutches his fist over his heart. “She was a child. And she thought that’s what she needed to do to please me.” His voice cracks.
“What did you do?” I don’t really want to know, but I think he wants to talk.
“I never went in her room after dark again. Not unless Marta was with me. Even now, I don’t step foot in her bedroom. Ever.” He shakes his head. “It was just too much, you know? She was a fucking baby.”
“You knew who it was, back then?”
“Her first foster home. Before she went to the group home.” He shakes his head. “I tried to find out who he was so I could kill him slowly. I wanted to pull all his fingernails out. Then I wanted to tie a rubber band around the base of his balls and let them rot off. Right after I sliced his dick into tiny little ribbons. I didn’t want to cut it off. That would be too kind.”