“We’re fighting this, Boone,” Em fumed as she paced over the carpet.
“Baby, I love you. But her father is the mayor of the town and her mother is on the board of education. Her grandfather owns the newspaper. Her family built this entire area. Their name’s on everything around here. No one’s going to side with us over them.”
“It’s not right,” she snapped.
“I know. But let’s focus on Logan and getting him into another school.”
The urge to rip out my hair coursed over me. I’d screwed up everything and Uncle Boone still wanted to do right by me.
“I’m sorry,” I rasped.
They both stopped moving and turned my way. Em rushed over and hugged me. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, honey.”
“Yes, it is. I never should’ve told Ashley.”
Her shoulders sagged. “You loved her, and you thought she loved you too. I understand.”
That wasn’t quite it, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself further.
“Is that why she broke up with you?” Em asked.
I nodded.
She grumbled but kept on hugging me.
I pulled away. “It is my fault, though. I tried making her jealous, talking to this other girl.” I ran my hands through my hair and glanced at the carpet. “Gave her my jersey. Ashley found out about it and—”
Uncle Boone let out a hearty laugh. “Kids,” he spat and stomped into the kitchen.
Aunt Em pressed her lips together like she was trying to keep her composure. “While, yes, that was probably a little immature, it’s still not a reason to do what she did, Logan. Or for her parents to drum you out of school.”
I shrugged, not quite understanding the magnitude of what had happened. “I fucked up. I’m sorry I’m so much trouble.”
She let out a soothing noise. “You’re not any trouble.”
Finally, I pulled away from her embrace. “Em, what was that article the principal had?”
She hesitated and turned around, searching for Boone. He stood inside the kitchen doorway, holding a can of soda, watching us closely. Their eyes met and he slightly lifted one shoulder.
Em squeezed my hand. “Why don’t we sit at the table.”
Once we were seated, Boone slapped a can of soda in front of me and threw himself into the chair at the opposite end.
Em met his eyes again, and he nodded.
“I don’t know how much you remember about when you came to live with us?”
It might have only been a little over three years, but it seemed like an entire lifetime ago. Sometimes, I even convinced myself it was nothing more than a bad movie I’d watched or an event that happened to someone else. But the basic facts, I remembered.
How could I forget?
I shrugged. The days after my parents’ death were a bit of a mishmash. Em and Boone had hurried to set up space for me in their home. Boone had driven back and forth to take care of “matters” with the police and lawyers but they never gave me details. I’d been interviewed by the police a few more times.
There was no official funeral that I was aware of. Maybe a month later, they’d had a memorial service for my mother. I’d been numb through the whole thing. Em brought me to therapy sessions where I remained mute for months.
It wasn’t until Jensen came to live with us that I began to feel somewhat normal. Helping him heal helped me too, I guess.
I shrugged. “You took care of me,” was all I could say. Had I ever said thank you to them for all they’d done?
“Of course we did.” Em squeezed my hand. “I loved your mom. She was my best friend.” Her voice broke. “I held her hand when she went into labor with you. Promised her I’d be the best aunt.”
“You are,” I whispered.
Boone’s chair scraped across the floor. He stood and pressed his hand against my shoulder.
“The cops down there were bored,” Boone said in his gruff voice. “Apparently, they didn’t get enough action and had some vivid imaginations.” He snorted. “After we took you home, they pestered us with phone calls to interview you.”
“I kinda remember that,” I said.
“Well,” Em picked up where Boone left off, “someone at the local paper had an ‘inside scoop.’” She snorted in disgust. “They ran that story you saw, questioning if you were involved in their deaths.”
“We had a lawyer contact the paper immediately,” Boone said. “No way were they going to smear you like that. You were just a kid, for fuck’s sake.” His voice shook the room.
“They printed a retraction,” Em said. “All mentions were supposed to be removed from the Internet. Copies destroyed…” her voice trailed off. “Obviously, someone failed.”
Boone grunted.
“The person who wrote the article was fired,” Em added. “We made sure of that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I wasn’t upset with them, just curious.
“What would’ve been the point?” Em shrugged. “It was our job to protect you. We knew you weren’t involved in any way. The police did too. They’d interviewed your bus driver, your teachers—”