Page 65 of A Sea of Unspoken Things

“I don’t know what I think.”

“He wasn’t perfect, James. But Johnny wasn’t a murderer.”

I searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he was just trying to protect me from it. But Micah looked convinced. And why wouldn’t he be? He didn’t know what I did.

“It wasn’t an accident,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Griffin Walker. It wasn’t an accident. Not really.”

“What are you talking about?”

I was shaking all over now. “I could feel it, Micah. When Johnny went for that gun, when he went after Griffin, he wanted to hurt him.”

An unreadable expression flooded Micah’s face. He was still now. He didn’t even look like he was breathing.

“Hewantedto hurt him. And he did.”

There was no way for Micah to know it. And I wasn’t even sure what he would have done if he had. We’d all agreed to lie. I remember the three of us standing out there in the dark with the dying fire, watching one another to see who would say it first. And we’d all kept our promise.

His chest rose as he took in a long, measured breath. Like he was trying to line up this new information with everything else. Like he was trying to reason out what he knew about Johnny. About all of us.That was a weight I’d carried for too many years, and now, it was on him.

“You think he meant to kill Griffin?”

“I don’t know. But I know he wanted to hurt him. And even if he didn’t, it doesn’t excuse what we did. It doesn’t make it right. Welied,Micah.”

“I know.”

“We were there. We saw what happened.”

“Iknow.”

“I don’t want to believe it. But all of this doesn’t add up. Something…” My voice constricted. I couldn’t finish.

He leaned forward. “What?”

I let my head fall back, watching the firelight dance on the ceiling. “Something happened to that girl. I can feel it. And I’m terrified that it was him. That, in a way, it was all of us. What if Johnny was dangerous and we just couldn’t see it? Didn’t want to see it?”

“No.”

I studied him, the tone of his voice—that desperate sense of denial. The urge to grasp at any shred of evidence. It was like trying to convince myself. Micah was maybe the only other person in the world who would extend Johnny the same benefit of the doubt that I had for so many years.

“You’re right that I left because of what happened that night. And it wasn’t just because I was terrified by the idea of what Johnny had done.” I swallowed. “I was terrified of myself. Like I could suddenly see all those years, when I’d made choice after choice to take responsibility for everything he did. I loved my brother”—a sob broke the words—“but I knew I had to get away from him. And I knew that if I left him with you, he’d be safe.”

Micah ran both hands over his face again, eyes cast across the room. He let the silence draw out between us before he walked into the kitchen, picking up his phone.

“What are you doing?” I sniffed.

“The thing you won’t be able to.”

I went for the phone, but he moved it out of my reach. “Wait. We need to talk about this.”

“About what?”

My heart was racing, panic seizing every muscle in my body. “About what will happen if people find out about this.”

“It doesn’t matter, James. He’s gone.”