The Dead Husband Carter Wilson (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

they come asking questions after your book comes out.” She must be certain I’m not going to attack, because she takes a step closer. “You’re the one putting us all at risk,” she adds. “I need to take measures to protect myself.”

The desire to hurt my own sister almost overpowers me, and for a moment, I see our similarities more than our differences. I resist my primal urges but stand my ground. Then I lean in closer, because I want her to smell the fury on me.

“How goddamn dare you,” I whisper. “What you did that night has bled onto every part of my life. Every decision I’ve made since then has been influenced by what you did. You think I studied criminal justice on a whim? That I became a mystery writer because I love plotting out fictional murders? That I came home because I missed my morally bankrupt family? Every fucking thing I do in this world is done to either avoid or confront my past, but I can never just be. All I want to do is just be, and I can’t. That’s what you’ve done to me. I know you don’t understand because you have no conscience, much less a soul. I can’t change the past, but I sure as hell won’t let you change the story about what happened that night. No. Fucking. Way.”

Max comes up again, startling me to the point that I almost scream. I look down at him, not even getting the satisfaction of seeing Cora’s reaction to my words.

“I want to go home,” he says, tugging my arm.

“Max, quit pulling on me.” My voice is harsher than I want it to be, but I’m not in a gentle space right now.

“I don’t like it here,” he says.

“You just started. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is stupid.”

His plastic teeth are missing, likely spit onto someone’s lawn. And nothing’s stupid. It’s a code word he uses when he’s uncomfortable, overwhelmed, or scared. The brief joy he had at trick-or-treating has vanished.

But I need to finish this conversation with Cora. Otherwise, it’ll burn into my skin all night, like acid. I reach out and spin him around until he’s facing the opposite side of the street. “Can you do one last house? Have you done this house yet?” I point, and as I do, I suddenly realize it’s Alec’s house that Cora and I have been arguing across the street from. My gaze wanders from the patch of grass where I tripped and fell, then to the front porch, which is adorned with at least a dozen jack-o’-lanterns.

“Okay, last one, but it looks stupid, too,” Max says and starts crossing the street.

“Wait,” I say. “I’ll go with you.”

He turns. “Why?”

Because the only thing more important than skewering my sister is seeing someone who makes me smile. “Alec lives there. Micah’s dad. I want to say hi.”

Alec probably isn’t even home. Most likely, he’s out with Micah doing the same thing I am, minus the horrifying familial argument.

Cora waits back on the far sidewalk, looking up and down the dark street. I walk a step behind Max, as if treating him like a shield. Up the sidewalk, to the door. We’re the only ones here, though I spy a group of four kids coming from the house next door.

Max rings the bell and it’s only seconds before it opens.

Alec.

A wave of comfort washes over me, and it’s something I cannot explain. It’s as if I’ve found the one good person in Bury, the one person who won’t judge, won’t blame, won’t gossip, and won’t look at me for anyone else than who I am. I have no idea if any of that is true, but his energy conveys that, and I don’t want to argue myself out of it.

Especially now, when I’m still so frazzled from what Cora just said. How she’s actively planning to blame me for what happened to Caleb.

He looks at me first, and the second the recognition hits, the smile comes out, wide and genuine.

“Rose,” he says.

“Trick or treat.”

Alec’s gaze is pulled away by Max’s voice. He looks down at my son and says, “Well, hey there, Max. You just missed Micah. He went out with some of the other sixth graders.” Alec steps out onto the porch and looks down the street. “They’re probably not too far. You could catch up to them pretty easily.”

Max shrugs. “We’re going home after your house.”

“So early?” Alec steps back into his house, grabs a couple of candy bars, and drops them into Max’s pail. “If I’m your last house, then I’ll give you two. How’s that sound?”

“Okay.”

Alec turns to me and leans against his doorframe.

“So, Rose, how are—”

“Do you want to go out sometime?”

I don’t know how it happened. The words just came out, sure as if I was just speaking them in my head. But I heard them, and clearly he did, too, because Alec’s eyes widen and humiliation threatens to buckle my legs.

I try to recover, throwing out words as fast as I can. Certainly more than the situation needs. “Not like that,” I say. “I mean, not not like that, but really not like that. I don’t know why I even asked you. I’m so sorry. I just thought, I don’t know, you seem like you’d be easy to talk to. But I hardly know you. But you did give me your number, so I was just thinking…”

I look down at Max and he stares at me, wide-eyed, more confused than even I probably am.

If there’s ever a moment for a deep, grounding breath, it’s now, so I take it. Even close my eyes for a second. After I let it go and open my eyes, I force myself to look Alec directly in his eyes.

“I could use a friend,” I tell him. “That’s all I was trying to say. You have no idea how much I could use a friend.”

He says nothing for a few agonizing seconds, after which he offers a