I looked in the direction of the stairs. The faint sounds of Magda moving about the kitchen, the radio on in the background.
Shuffling Harlow into her room, I softly closed the door behind us. “I need you to look into something for me.”
The last time I’d said those words to her, we were digging up dirt on the assholes who bullied Mena at her old school. There wasn’t anything really illegal about what I was asking. I just wasn’t sure I’d be able to find the information myself. And that’s what I needed in that moment. Hendrix had told me quite a story, but I needed facts, evidence. I needed something solid to hold on to so I could begin to put my racing thoughts in order.
Or maybe I just needed to not deal with it alone. For once, I wanted someone with me as I dealt with something heavy.
Harlow flopped into her computer chair, and I shoved a pile of clothes off the spare chair in the corner before pulling it over to sit next to her.
She keyed in her password, and her three screens came to life. “What are we looking for?”
“I need to know why Hendrix moved here.”
“Uh . . . OK. Do we have something to go on? I need a starting point. Maybe his old school.”
I sighed. “I know why he came here. I mean, he told me what happened. I just want to check that—”
“You don’t believe him? What did he tell you?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t believe him exactly. I just . . . fuck.” I dropped my head into my hands. How could I articulate to my sister that I just needed to give my brain something to focus on?
“I just need more information,” I finally said and lifted my head to look at her. When she simply raised an eyebrow, I kept talking. “We ditched school this afternoon, and he told me what happened last year, why he transferred here. He, uh . . .”
The words lodged in my throat. He hadn’t actually told me not to tell anyone, but it still felt wrong, as if I was betraying his trust when he’d kept all my secrets. So many secrets.
But Harlow wouldn’t tell anyone, and I needed some clarity. I swallowed and just said it. “He told me he killed someone. It was unintentional, a horrible accident, and he feels like shit for it. I just need to know more.”
Harlow stared at me. “Jesus, fuck.” She breathed out, then turned to the screens.
In the end, she didn’t do much of anything I couldn’t have done myself; it just took a fraction of the time. A search of his name and New York brought up countless results—his family was prominent in society there. That led us to the name of his school, which led us to Austin’s full name and allowed for more detailed searches. There was an obituary, a few articles.
I got more details, put names to faces, but really, I didn’t understand it any better. I didn’t understand why he got under my skin so badly. Why I’d lost it at him even after he told me about the person he killed.
“This is some heavy shit, D.” Harlow leaned back in her chair. “Did he . . . what’s going on between you guys? Are you OK?”
I looked into my sister’s eyes, so full of concern, and the urge to spill it all was almost palpable. But I couldn’t do that. My heart quickened at the very thought of it. I was the responsible one, the one who took care of her, the one who did what she was supposed to so that Harlow could do whatever she wanted. I needed a new plan, a way out before I could say anything to anyone. I just wasn’t sure what it was I needed a way out of . . .
“I don’t know what’s going on between us,” I told her honestly. “It’s more complicated than I can even explain to myself. But please, don’t worry. I’ve never felt unsafe with Hendrix. Not even when he told me about . . . that.” I pointed at the screen.
“OK. You wanna talk about it?”
I got to my feet as it dawned on me. I’d never felt unsafe with Hendrix. How often had I wished someone would be for me what I was for so many other people—protector, defender, confidant, safe place to land? He’d been exactly that and more from