I’ve never opened myself up to anyone like this, especially a girl. I’ve made out with them and other things. Hell, I’m a guy. But with Sam . . . I know I’m vulnerable now. I can feel her reaching in and taking up residency in my soul.
It’s painful and pleasurable and scary as hell.
Thunder cracks above, the rain beats down, but we’re lost beneath a black dead tree—feeling alive.
Sam
I lie still, my eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the night and trying to block out my own brain. It’s useless. I know Tyler is here. I can feel him lurking in my room, and it’s pretty shitty that I’m pretending to be asleep. But I can’t look at him right now. Can’t talk to him.
Before—when we were in high school—it was difficult to be around him after what happened between Holden and me. Tyler and I were only friends, though. It was different then. I honestly felt that my romantic life was none of his business; I shared everything else with him. But there was always the guilt.
Seeing Holden today . . . it’s stirred up memories and feelings I buried long ago. And Tyler can read me better than anyone. I don’t want to lie to him if he asks me what’s wrong. But there’s so much wrong lately it’s hard to choose from, so maybe I don’t have to lie at all.
The important thing is Holden is determined to find who took Tyler away from us.
If I could help, if I knew anything at all, I would stomach being around Holden to see justice done. I just wish there was a way. And that I didn’t fear so much.
The truth is, Tyler might be hanging around because he needs resolution. I’ve thought this every day since I first saw his spirit. If the police discovered who was driving that car, it might free Tyler from this plane. It could be his unfinished business.
I’m a horrible person. I know this. I’m conflicted—wanting to see the person punished for what they did, and not wanting to. I’m just not ready to say goodbye.
A thought hits me hard and I bolt upright in bed. Tyler jumps to his feet, my plush beanbag chair not shifting or making a noise as he rises. It still weirds me out.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, letting my hair fall around my face to hide my expression. “Just had a dream.” Okay, so now I am a liar.
Tyler kept a journal. I don’t think Holden knows about it, and Tyler doesn’t know that I know about it. But one night when I was staying at his residence apartment, I saw him writing in it when he thought I was in the bathroom. I thought it was endearing—not many guys keep a diary—and I never mentioned it. Letting him have that secret for himself.
But if there’s any chance that Tyler’s accident wasn’t an actual accident, then maybe something in that journal could help. I feel slimy just thinking about reading his personal thoughts. But it may be the only lead in his case. And like Holden said, if something new doesn’t present itself, the police will file his hit-and-run away, never discovering the person who sped off that night, leaving a dying Tyler bleeding on the road. Leaving a ruined girlfriend and family behind.
I know it’s the right thing to do—regardless of my own selfishness.
“Tyler,” I say, my voice throaty. “I need something from you.”
“Anything,” he says. The shadows conceal most of his features, but his aura—the white light surrounding him—reveals the concern etched on his face.
“You kept a journal, didn’t you?”
His face pales, the glow of his aura dimming. “No. I didn’t—”
“I saw you. Writing in it.” I push myself off the bed and slowly approach him. “I think we should read through it together. To see if maybe—”
He waves his hand. “Sam, I’m right here. Don’t you think if I had any clue about who hit me that I’d tell you?”
I’m taken back. “How did you know that’s why I even wanted it?”
He huffs out a long breath. “I know how your mind works. Holden’s here, and you saw him today. He hasn’t moved on yet.” His eyes level me. “He can’t accept that it just happened, that there’s no ulterior motive. Sometimes bad shit just happens, Sam.”
“Right.” I shake my head, thinking that maybe I’m more transparent than Tyler. “But . . . he’s your brother. He just wants to help you. The way I do.” I step closer, wishing I could hold his hand, comfort him. “Don’t you want whoever did this to be caught? Maybe there’s something in there that you can’t connect, but someone looking in from the outside can. Something off, a link. Please. Just let me try.”