The Darkest Part(16)

“Just some—just a part of him,” I try.

“I’m not about to let you take any of them”—he presses on, unfazed by my plea—“anywhere. At this point in time, you’re not thinking rationally. And this just doesn’t seem healthy to me. He’s at rest now, Sam. We need to let him remain that way.”

My heart’s pounding in my chest, a cold sweat chilling my body. As mad and wounded as I am, it’s nothing compared to the shame starting to creep in. The distrusting gleam in his eyes, his harsh words, are making me feel like I’ve asked to have Tyler’s buried body exhumed. Have I? I’m not sure anymore. “I’m sorry I brought this up.” I look down.

“It’s all right.” He clears his throat. “Tyler loved you. And I know how much you loved him. You’ll always have a part of him, Sam. Nothing will change that or take that away. It belongs to you, but—” He shakes his head, clearly exasperated. “We’ll discuss this again later, and maybe then we can figure out something. Okay?”

Keeping my gaze trained on the dark hardwood floor, I nod.

Amber and Mr. Marks both walk me to the door. I only glance back once to wave and say goodbye before my feet are beating the path. I can’t get away fast enough.

But then, I don’t want to go home, either. Don’t want to face my mother after she told Tyler’s father about my condition. My limbs are shaking, and when I can’t run anymore, I’m walking fast on the nature trail.

Despite anything Mr. Marks said, regardless if it’s wrong for me to want to do this, I can’t stomach the thought of Tyler fading away. That he’s disappearing, and that he’ll become this lost soul. He deserves to be in a better place, wherever that is. Whether it’s heaven . . . I don’t know.

When I reach my destination, I fall against the dark bark, scraping my shoulder as I slide down into a fetal position. I haven’t needed the comfort of this place for a long time. Not since it’d become tainted with bad memories.

I need it now, though. And I hope Tyler lets me have this moment. That he doesn’t ask questions. Questions that I can’t answer.

As I press my back against the tree, I run my fingers over the tattoo on my wrist. This isn’t the first time a Marks’ man has made me feel . . . pathetic. It seems to run in their genes.

Five Years Earlier

I’m primping. I’m being such a girl right now I could slap myself.

Applying another layer of burgundy lipstick, I blot, then fluff my hair in the mirror. When I saw his canvas today, I almost lost my shit right there in the middle of art class. After our kiss the other day, and how perfect our moment was, I was starting to think I fantasized it. That maybe I dreamt it, and Holden hadn’t really met me under my tree.

Actually, it’s more like “our” tree, ever since he found me there when I was little. But the other day was the first time he’s been there with me again after all this time. He has no idea that I’ve always gone back, thinking of him.

I press my hands to my cheeks, soothing the heat rising to my face.

My stupid crush was always just that. Swooning over my best friend’s older brother. Wishing that one day he’d notice I wasn’t a little girl under a tree anymore. And when we started our game, speaking within our paintings, I thought I was imagining that he was sending me messages about how beautiful I was. And different than any other girl.

Coming from anyone other than Holden, it would seem lame. Like cheesy lines. But weaved within the intricately drawn lines of his masterpieces, those words are art. Just like him. He’s quiet and talented and dark. Mysterious. Even though I’ve known him as long as Tyler, I’ve never really known him. He keeps to himself, and since he returned from boarding school, he’s been even more reclusive.

But when I look into his eyes . . . it feels like I do know him. Can see right to his soul, and he sees the real me when he looks back into mine. It’s so far past a crush now.

I’ve fallen in love with Holden Marks.

I shove away from my dresser and nod to myself in the mirror. Then I grab my art supplies’ bag and race out the door. In the back of my mind, a little voice is screaming at me, growing louder and shouting that when Tyler finds out about me and his brother, he’s going to be pissed. But I’m not going to listen to that voice.

I think Tyler’s always been a little jealous of his brother. Holden’s never been afraid to do what he wants. To be who he wants. Tyler says his dream is to be a lawyer like his dad, and I believe him—to some degree. But he’s my best friend. I know deep down that he wants to play football professionally. His dad would never hear of that, though. And Tyler’s too scared of disappointing him.