Good Grades & Mystery Games: Chapter 33

I’ve not been to many funerals in my life.

As a kid I went to my mom’s parents’ joint funeral, but I don’t remember it. I remember the bleak colours and the crying, but that’s about it. I remember that I had to stay by my family the whole day and there was a party after.

I went to two in the same week for Lucas and Sara, even though there were no bodies to be buried. I felt like I dissociated throughout most of the service anyway. It’s not that I didn’t care, but more that it was hard to feel. With my grandparents, I felt something so painful for them and I remember crying because everybody else was. But for Lucas and Sara, mostly because they were extended family, I didn’t feel much. Or anything, really.

I either feel things at full volume or I feel nothing at all. For Gio, I’m in the middle of those two extremities. He meant so much to me, but hearing the way everybody is talking about him like he tried to murder my dad, it’s hard not to feel a bit of anger towards him. All I can think is that he manipulated me into believing he is in danger, but he really was behind it the whole time. It explains his sketchy behaviour at the restaurant and at his house.

The service was nice, though. Quiet. Even though we held the service in LA because of the company and where other family members were buried, tons of people showed up. So much so that there were people standing outside the church waiting until we went to the cemetery. Both girls came with me for support and Evan did too, sitting with his dad in one of the far corners of the church.

It’s good he didn’t sit anywhere near me because of what happened in the library. I don’t think I’m ready to look at him without my thoughts turning filthy and now is really, not the time. I still have no fucking clue how he managed to make me feel so good. Everything he did was so overwhelming, and it felt so… right. Which is fucking terrifying.

Evan and his dad are both wearing blacked out shades. His dad, Sam, is the exact double of Evan. I don’t know what his mom looks like, but I doubt he has any of her features because of how alike he and his dad look. They’ve both got that sly smirk, blonde hair, sharp jaws, and a glare to kill. Sam’s a handsome man and he doesn’t look all that old. He could even pass for Evan’s brother. I let myself wonder if Evan will look that good when he’s older.

As we gathered around the burial spot in the cemetery amongst other Voss family members, Wren, and Kennedy by my side, each of them linked their arms in mine, I knew something was wrong before it happened.

The pastor was still reading his ‘There is a time for everything’ bible verse, Gio was already lowered in the ground, but not covered, when I locked my eyes with him. I saw the realisation that he’d been caught dawn on him the exact same time I put the pieces together.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I told the girls.

“Okay, we’ll be by the car when you’re ready,” Kennedy said, squeezing my hand before I slipped away from her.

So that’s how I ended up following a guy who looked suspiciously familiar in the middle of my uncle’s burial.

The second I laid eyes on him; he dropped his gaze to the ground and bolted. If he is who I think he is, why is running from me? I mean, people don’t usually come back from the dead, but if it’s not him then he doesn’t need to be running.

It rained yesterday so my heels are getting stuck in the mud as I try to keep up with him. There are not many places to hide in a cemetery when the graves aren’t big enough to hide a six-four man in a black hoodie and jeans.

“Listen,” I shout. I’m only a few paces behind him now, far away from the burial. “Can you stop running? I can only go so far in heels.”

Obviously, that doesn’t stop him. Why would it? He’s only come back from the dead. I try to keep up with him again, but he’s picked up the pace, now darting along the path. Only it’s cobblestones and my shoe keep getting stuck in the stone.

“Shit,” I groan when I trip over, falling to my knees. The stones hit my knees and my hands graze the concrete, stinging both my knees and palms. As I go to stand, brushing off my skirt, he’s turned back around now, standing right in front of me. He looks exactly the same; a full head of hair, messy and untamed beard, looking the same as the picture they used at his funeral service.

“Lucas?”

I knew saying his name out loud would make this all so real. For a second, I thought maybe I was going crazy. That I had made it all up in my head. I didn’t expect the sick feeling I have in my stomach as he looked at me. He reaches out, to steady me maybe, but I take a step back.

“Did anyone follow you out here?” he asks. I look back and we’re a good five minute walk away from the burial. I turn back to him, swallowing as I shake my head.

“What- What are you doing?” I ask. I try closing my eyes and opening them again, hoping that will make him disappear. This isn’t happening. There is no way this is happening.

“Listen, Scarlett, I know you’re probably confused, but you have to understand that-”

“You’re alive, Lucas. Like, you’re living and breathing right in front of me, of course I’m confused,” I say, tripping over my words as I take another scan of his body. Yep. He’s right in front of me. Alive. Not a corpse the police couldn’t find. He’s a real person with a beating heart and he’s talking to me.

“As long as no one sees you, you need to go back. I’ve been trying to keep a low profile,” he explains, glancing behind me. I just stare up at him, words failing me. He sighs, rolling his eyes. I need an explanation, but my brain still hasn’t fully processed what I’m seeing, so words are the last thing that can come out of my mouth right now. “Look, only certain people know that I’m alive and I shouldn’t be here, but I had to see Gio. I can’t believe what happened to him. In hiding or not, he’s still my best friend.”

I nod, trying to understand him, but I’m still stuck on the part that he’s alive. I went to his funeral. My dad cleared out his office. My mom lights a candle for him on every anniversary and his birthday. He was gone.

But he’s not.

“Scarlett?”

“Yes,” I say, shaking my head a little to look at him better. “Yes. Okay. I’ll go back.”

He nods at me, and I turn back around, mumbling to myself because…What the fuck? There are so many people here, all of us packed in like sardines.

I doubt anyone saw him, but I did. Sometimes I notice the most peculiar of things and that just happened to be one of them. I get why he would run away, but I need to know who the few people are that know he’s alive and why they’ve been hiding it from the rest of the company.

When I get back to the burial area, I walk behind the girls, heading straight towards Evan, who’s standing with his dad behind a huge group of people. They’ve both got their hands in their pockets, staring at the ground, looking identical. I’m panting by the time I’m in front of them.

“Ev,” I say, gripping onto his arm so I don’t fall into him. He looks down to me, his eyes a little sad and tired.

“Yes, Angel?” he asks. His dad raises his eyebrows at the nickname and my gaze snags on him for a second. What is in the Branson genes? They both look so picture perfect. Not the time, Scarlett.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I whisper, glancing back at his dad nervously. He smiles that Branson smirk and I do a double take before looking over at Evan. He must notice the weirdness of me sort-of meeting his dad for the first time because he also looks at him.

“Go talk to your girlfriend, boy. Seems like it’s important,” his dad says, still smiling.

Evan rolls his eyes as he smoothly removes my hand from his arm only to thread his fingers through mine as we walk in the opposite direction. His touch is so firm, yet everything about him is so sweet. He squeezes my hand as we walk through the crowd of people.

“Why does your dad think I’m your girlfriend?” I ask curiously, looking up at him. But he’s not looking at me. He just starts to walk faster, tugging me along with him.

“Don’t mind him,” he says easily. When we’re further away from the crowd, we stop at a large tree, and he pulls me behind it so we’re out of view. “What did you want to talk about?”

I’m suddenly so hyper-aware of his presence that I almost forget what I was meant to say. His black suit is doing nothing but aid these filthy thoughts I’ve had since he went down on me in the library. Neither is the slightly angry look on his face. I shake my head as if it will get rid of the thoughts. I only realise we’re still holding hands when he brushes his thumb against mine and it brings me back down to earth.

“Do you remember when I told you that Gio hasn’t been feeling himself since his wife died in a plane crash along with his friend?” He nods. “Well, he’s here.” I wait for his reaction. For what? I don’t know. He doesn’t say anything, but he swallows. Hard. “Did you hear what I said, Branson? My family friend just came back from the dead and you’ve got nothing to say to that? Do you realise how fucking insane that is? And he’s just here…At my uncle’s funeral.”

My mini ramble consists of more hand gestures than it does actual words. Evan just blinks at me. He slips his hand from mine, and I try to reach for it again, needing his warmth, but he doesn’t let me take it.

“Scarlett,” he says quietly. Once. He places his hands on my shoulders, his eyes dropping to the floor. I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out what’s going on. The tone of his voice feels like a weight has dropped onto my stomach.

“Why are you talking to me like that?” I ask, worry coating my tone. My heartbeat starts to pick up, but I don’t know why. He keeps his eyes on the ground, and I kneel down slightly, urging his head up. Even when he’s looking at me, he’s not really there.

“I already knew, Scar,” he says. I don’t understand the severity of his words, but I feel it in my stomach. It’s that feeling you get where you don’t know what’s wrong, but your body already knows. It’s like I just stepped off a rollercoaster. He swallows thickly, blinking up to the sky, his hands still gripping onto my shoulders. “My dad just told me and pointed him out to me. I was going to tell you after the funeral, but you saw him already.”

“Ev, what aren’t you telling me?” I ask. He finally looks at me, sighing. Those green eyes shimmer with something I can’t quite place. It’s something so far, yet so close that I don’t think I even want to go.

“My dad asked me to get involved with you to find out what was really happening. They wanted to be the first to find out before the scandal went public, but then Gio died and they realised that it wasn’t a good enough story to tell, so we ended up with nothing,” he explains. His face has gone pale, as if he’s forcing himself to tell me. Today has been weird enough. Each one of his words feel like daggers straight to my heart, but I tell myself to be strong.

“So, you used me?” I ask, my voice sounding foreign.

“You need to know that I didn’t want to hurt you, Angel. I would never let anything happen to you or let my dad say anything harmful about you or your family, no matter how bad it got.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I whisper, my chest heaving. I let out a shuddery exhale, trying to regulate my breathing. I need to stay calm. I can’t spiral out. I just need to understand.

“Yes, it looks like I used you to get what my dad wanted, but everything that happened with the project was pure coincidence. I didn’t plan that, I swear. As things started to get too real, I stopped doing it for them. I did it for us. Because I wanted to help you find closure. Everything you told me was because you trusted me, and I kept it to myself.”

“You really expect me to trust you, right now?” He doesn’t respond because that’s when I start to feel the hot, angry tears running down my face. I can’t cry right now. He can’t see how badly this hurts. I wipe my tears quickly, stepping away from him so he can’t hold onto my shoulder anymore. “Did you kiss me just to get closer to me? Was all that fake? You, saying those things, touching me like that… Did you not mean any of it? I had a feeling it was weird how you were being so nice to me, and I was stupid enough to believe you.”

He steps closer to me. I take a step back. “I didn’t kiss you for any other reason that I wanted to, that I’ve been dying to do since I met you. I care about you, Scarlett, more than I have ever cared about anyone. I respect you and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You don’t do things like that to the people you care about, Evan,” I say through a sob, shoving at his chest as he tries to close the distance between us again. He looks more upset now, his face suddenly red. “I asked for one thing from you. I forgave you for what you said. I wanted to be your friend, for God’s sake and you ruined that.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “You’re right. I fucked up and I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue with you, but I don’t want to make you upset, and I can’t bear to look at you cry,” he says thickly. He turns to walk away, but I go after him, pulling on his arm, turning him back to me.

“No,” I warn. He heaves out a breath, looking around. “No,” I say again, quieter. “You’re going to argue with me, Evan, because that’s what we do. You fight with me and you’re going to fight for me. So, explain yourself. Now. Because I really don’t want to think I was stupid enough to have trusted you, so you better give me a good enough reason or – so help me God – I will make your life a living hell and I will never speak to you again.”

I want to have a conversation. I don’t want whatever we built to dissipate just because he did something stupid. I’ve done countless stupid, manipulative, and ridiculous things in my life. I wasted so much time hating him without hearing him out that first week at NU. I’m not about to do it again. Not after the way he’s held me, taken care of me and spoken to me in the last few weeks. This isn’t like the other guys I’ve hooked up with. This is him. I refuse to believe that was all for nothing.

He runs both of his hands down his face. “Scar.”

“Explain yourself. Now,” I say, rubbing the last of the tears from my face. I take a deep breath because I need to be strong. I can’t keep missing out on possibly great things because I’m scared of people hurting me. If he hurts me, he’s going to fix it.

“I was desperate, Scarlett, you’ve got to understand that. I was cut off from my family after what happened with Cat, and this was the only way my dad said he would let me back in. You probably won’t get it because your family is different. You might not get along, but you love each other, and you show it. I’ve always wanted that – a family, a relationship where love and intimacy wasn’t so unheard of. I thought, maybe if I get back in, I could try and get that for my family, too. But it got to a point where I didn’t even realise that I was doing it for them because I wanted to help you. I gave him half-assed explanations because I wanted us to figure it out because…” He lets out a shaky breath, his green eyes looking directly into mine. “Because we’re a team, Scar. Me and you. We do things together. We might fight and argue, but at the end of the day, it’s just me and you. It always has been.”

I flicker my gaze to the ground for a second, needing the short time to collect myself before I get completely lost and transfixed in his eyes again. His words mean more to me than anyone else’s. His words, his actions, are what are going to keep us together in whatever way that is.

“You could have told me, and we could have figured it out, you know?”

“I tried to tell you, but then Gio-”

I cut him off. “You had so many chances, Ev. So many. When we were smoking, you could have mentioned it. The countless times when we worked in silence could have made a perfect opportunity. When we kissed… There’s been so many opportunities.”

“I was scared, Scar. I was fucking terrified. You already hated me, and we were starting to get somewhere, and I didn’t want to push you away again. I know that’s exactly what I’ve done, but you’ve got to see that I didn’t want to do that,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. ‘I just want to be close to you. All the time.’

♫ Bloom by The Paper Kites

I believe him. From the way he’s treated me, regardless of his initial intentions, I know he would never try to hurt me. I know that he’s been trying to prove himself to me, to show me who he really is. I didn’t believe him the first time and it gives me all the reasons to want to trust him now. People have used me before for their own personal gain, but from the look in his eyes, the pain in his voice, I can tell that all he wanted was his family back and a chance at a real one. He doesn’t need my money. He doesn’t need my fame. From the way I’ve treated him, he’s had limited options to get me to like him.

That’s the reason why I walk closer to him and as his hands fall from his neck, I wrap my arms around his middle, resting my head on his chest. I feel the exact moment he relaxes, where his heartbeat steadies and his arms wrap around me.

Sometimes, no matter how much he makes me want to rip out my hair, I want to be close to him. It feels like no matter how far apart we can try to get from each other, how much we can piss each other off, there’s always this string tugging us closer together. Needing each other. Even if that was just to argue or shout, we’ve always needed this. Each other.

“Are we going to be okay?” he asks into my hair.

“I still think I’m going to need some time to really mull it over, but… I don’t know,” I say truthfully. I want, more than anything, to give him the second chance he deserves from the hell I’ve put him through. But I also need to get my emotions and feelings in check. Weirdly enough, therapy has been helping with that and I want it to continue.

“Are you angry with me?” he asks, and his strangled voice breaks my heart. I look up at him, resting my chin on his chest. I watch his throat contract as he swallows before looking down at me.

“I don’t think I could give you a proper answer to that right now,” I admit. He nods, finally looking down at me. He’s going to have to understand that and be patient with me while I figure this out. He presses the softest kiss to my forehead, and I melt into his touch, sighing a true breath of relief.

“Is that- Can I still- Was that…” he mutters.

“It’s okay,” I say, resting my head on his chest again, turning my face away from him. “I want us to be mature about this, Evan. I don’t want to spiral. I’m so sick of doing that. You did something bad, you apologised, but I’m going to need to take a step back for a bit to figure my shit out.”

“Okay,” he says, softly, holding onto me tighter. “That’s okay. Anything you want.”