chapter thirty-one-2

Wilson had started volunteering for an organization in Buffalo that helped male sexual assault victims and told me a couple of weeks ago he was thinking of getting his GED. After my mom went to apologize for how she'd treated him while he and Emily were dating, they bonded over animals, and now he was considering going to college to become a veterinary technician. He'd even got a job at her clinic, wrangling the leashes of big dogs and holding agitated cats during their shots. And sitting beside Wilson was Bex, holding on to his hand. We were finally getting back to where we'd been nearly two years ago, helped by small moments here and there at Scoops! over the summer and on the opening night of Shrek the Musical, when she'd reached for my hand as we'd all bowed down at the edge of the stage and I'd let her grasp on to it. But I'd kept my eyes on the audience and grinned at Kolby and Aniston, already waiting for me to find them in the front row, two sets of brown eyes twinkling under the stage lights. The prosecutor and defense attorneys made their closing arguments—with Emily now claiming she'd killed Griffin in self-defense when he'd attempted to rape her, and saying that she wasn't involved in Elizabeth Monner's murder at all—and then the jury left for deliberation. I watched as my father reached over the space between them, squeezing her shoulder. I stood up, grabbing my purse and walking out of the courtroom. I might have been able to accept that I had good memories with my sister—and I did—but I didn't think I could stomach being in the same room with her again knowing she'd offered to let Griffin murder me and then taken my rape as her defense. Kolby was standing in the hallway outside of the courtroom when I stepped through the door, near the water fountains bolted to the wood-paneled wall, humming gently. His hands were crammed into the pockets of his jacket—an actual jacket now, not just a puffer vest—and he pushed himself off the wall when he noticed me, shooting me a soft smile. "Hey," he said as I neared him. He still smelled a little like pretzels, since he'd come here straight from work after his shift ended a little more than an hour ago. "What's happening?" "The jury just left," I told him, nodding over my shoulder to the emptying courtroom, the sound of muffled chatter slowly starting to spill out into the hallway and drown out everything else. "And in celebration of the end of all this, do you want to split some peanut M&Ms with me?" He laughed and I felt myself smiling at the sound. I rummaged inside my purse while walking around him and leaned against the wood paneling, sliding down to the floor as I found the candy behind my wallet. His knee brushed against mine as he slid down to sit beside me. I tore open the package, dumped a few M&Ms into his palm, and then reached inside for my own. "Do you think she'll be convicted?" he asked. "Probably." "Are you okay with that?" I thought for a moment, chewing, before I nodded again. "Yeah, I am. I mean, I wish none of it had ever happened more than I want her to get off with a slap on the wrist or something." I looked over at him, dumping a couple more M&Ms in his hand, and I couldn't help but wonder if he still thought about it. About how he'd said he loved me months ago. We still hadn't really got back together, even though there were moments every now and then that made it possible, but in the beginning I wanted to build a stronger sense of trust. And now it felt like it had been too long. I wasn't sure where his feelings were, if they were with me or someone else or anyone, because now we had been just friends longer than we had been together. It seemed like the stat- ute of limitations on us had expired already, too late to go back now. "Lisa Tomlin was out here before you came out. She still thinks he's innocent," he told me. "She wanted to know why I didn't want to do a victim impact statement." Elizabeth Monner's mother and aunt had been asked to make victim impact statements if she was sentenced, and so had Griffin's parents, and Kolby. I assumed he was unsure of how he felt about Griffin. But there was something in his voice now that suggested maybe his unsure feelings weren't so unsure anymore. "What did you tell her?" "I told her he wasn't innocent," he explained. "She wanted me to talk about how he was murdered and then had his character taken from him, but I told her I believed you." He nudged his shoulder against mine, and I smiled at the touch. "You deserved better," I said. "You deserved better than a rapist for a best friend." "I like the one I have now."