The Glass Ballerina Who Danced On Knives

Caught

T.W. Painful topics

The words had slipped out so easily I didn't even realise what I said until everyone was staring at me.

"Trinity," Jameson's voice was hard, all traces of emotion gone, and he had used my real name, which is never good. "Why were you in the bushes?"

Caught.

I weighed my options. Since we all seemed to be spilling our guts about that night, the big emotional scene in a movie, it seemed like the ideal time to release the secret that has been bottled for over a year. On the other hand, I knew how they would react, and making up an excuse seemed like the best way to deal with this current situation. They aren't ready to hear it, I'm not ready to tell it. Simple as that.

This entire emotional exchange is probably too much for Grayson to deal with anyways, considering feelings were foreign to him now.

"I wanted to talk to her about my birthday." The lie slips easily through my teeth.

"Dynamite, your birthday is in July." Nicknames again? That's a good sign, something I'd never associate nicknames with.

He's not wrong but I'm also not completely lying. Emily had missed my Sweet 16, a one week event leading up to my birthday, held in one of granddads hotels. It had been exactly the kind of party Emily's twisted little heart would have loved, filled with once in a lifetime experiences.

Going into VIP clubs. Watching movies that hadn't been released. Bungee jumping. Surfing. A bonfire on the beach. And an enormous party bus that took us to all of our exclusive outings. Royalty from three different countries attended.

And she'd missed it all to play with my brother's hearts. At the time, I knew but thought it was just Em being Em.

After she missed my week-long celebration I was enraged. Unfortunately, due to it being summer she had craftily avoided me until October when I overheard her plans.

"She avoided me." I reply curtly.

"So? School started in September." Grayson states pointedly.

"You know, the funny thing about being in the grade above your age and taking some classes at an online college means you don't really see the people in your grade. And Emily knew I was mad at her." I bite back.

"So your plan was to corner her on a cliff?" Jameson asks mockingly.

"Not exactly, but that's how it ended up." These questions are testing me. Something I'd never use to describe myself, but I'm feeling flustered. This web of half truths is harder to hold into place than I thought.

"In that case, why were you in the bushes? Was your plan to scare her like a child?" Grayson addresses me condescendingly.

"I didn't want her to see me, not yet."
Both my brothers and Avery look at me with pointed glares.
Time to let their emotions take the handle again.
"But then she stopped calling for Jameson. And she fell."

"I thought she was playing with me. I heard a splash, but I didn't turn around. I made it probably a hundred yards. She wasn't calling after me anymore. I glanced back." Jameson's voice breaks, and his eyes become glassy again. "Emily was hunched over, crawling out of the water. I thought she was pretending."

"I just stood there," Jameson says dully. "I didn't do a damn thing to help her."

I watched Emily Laughlin die.

And I'm not as cold hearted as people think I am. Some part of me hurt for her.

"She collapsed. She went still, and she stayed still. And then you came back, Gray, and I left." Jameson shudders. "I hated you for taking her there, but I hate myself more because I let her die. I stood there, and I watched."

"It was her heart,"Avery says sensibly . "What could you have—"

"I could have tried CPR. I could have done something." Jameson swallows. "But I didn't. I don't know how the old man knew, but he cornered me a few days later. He told me that he knew I'd been there and asked whether I felt culpable. He wanted me to tell you, Gray, and I wouldn't. I said that if he was so damn set on you knowing that I'd been there, he could tell you himself. But he didn't. Instead... he did this."

"He wanted to make damn sure," Jameson says, "that I never forgot."

"No," Xander blurts out. We turn to look at him. "That's not what this is," he swears. "He wasn't making a point. He wanted us—all five of us— together. Here."

Nash put a hand on Xander's shoulder. "The old man could be a real bastard, Xan."

"That's not what this is," Xander said again, his voice more intense than I'd ever heard it—like he wasn't speculating. Like he knew.

Grayson spoke up now. "What precisely are you saying, Alexander?"

"The two of you were walking around like ghosts. You were a robot, Gray." Xander is speaking quickly now—almost too quickly for the rest of us to follow. "Jamie was a ticking time bomb. You hated each other."

"We hated ourselves more," Grayson said, his voice like sandpaper.

"The old man knew he was sick," Xander admitted. "He told me, right before he died. He asked me to do something for him."
The voices blur out.
Granddad had told Xander? Did that mean I wasn't all the things he told me I was?

"Do you know why your grandfather chose me?" Avery demands, her angry tone brings me back. "Have you known the answer all this time?"

Xander holds his hands up in front of his body, like he thinks Avery might throttle him. "I only know what he wanted me to know. I have no idea what's on the other side of that door. I was only supposed to get Jamie and Gray here. Together."

"All five of us," Nash corrected. "Together."

"Not just the five of us," Grayson tells Nash. He looks back toward Avery. "Clearly, this was a game for six."