The Darkest Part(52)

I turn back around as Holden tosses his bag at the foot of the bed. He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m going to go clean out the truck. So it doesn’t get funky.” My cheeks flush, remembering my discarded food that got tossed in during my meltdown.

“You want me to help?”

He shakes his head. “No. You rest up.” He turns to go, but pauses at the door. “Are you hungry? I saw a food court near the lobby. I could bring you back something. Or we can wait and grab something later.”

“I’ll wait,” I say. “But thanks.”

He nods, not making eye contact, then leaves. The door’s audible click makes me flinch, and the silence that follows is thick and consuming. I look out the window again, my thoughts banging against my brain as I watch people walking along the sidewalks.

“You’re still in love with him.”

Tyler’s voice startles the shit out of me, and I turn and grab my chest. “Hell.” I take in deep breathes before his words register in my mind. “What are you talking about?”

He looks stricken, his features pulled into a wounded expression. “I never used to scare you.”

His words blanket me in shame. “I just have a lot on my mind right now.” I leave my meaning open.

Taking two steps closer to me, he nods, understanding. “I can’t erase the past. And I can’t even give you an explanation. I’m sorry. That’s all I can say. It’s not good enough. But know that I am sorry, Sam.”

“I know.” And I do. “Look, it’s too soon to do this again. I need . . . I don’t know. Let’s leave it in the past. For now.”

He soundlessly slips his hands into his pockets. His aura is even more faded in the dim lighting of the hotel room. “That day in your room, months before we officially got together, I knew why you were crying.”

My chest constricts. I don’t want to relive that either. “Let’s not, Tyler.”

“You always had a thing for Holden. And I was willing to wait. To be patient.” He smiles. It’s sad and heartbreaking. And I always thought, in the back of my mind, that he had to have known. I was just too much of a coward to confess any of it to him.

I take a step toward him. “I was meant to be with you.”

His smile stretches, pulling at my heartstrings. “Oh, I know,” he says assuredly, cocky as hell.

I can’t help it. I laugh.

“But,” he says, moving another fraction of an inch closer. “Tell me that you only loved me. That I was the only one you were meant to be with.”

“Tyler . . .” My voice breaks.

“You and Holden were so much alike. Even after we were together, I think you were still fighting it. Maybe more than me.”

“Dammit. Stop. I crushed on him when I was a kid. I loved you. You were always there for me, no matter what. You were my best friend. We shared everything. Holden—” I jerk my head sideways, annoyed I’m even having to explain this. Not sure I can.

“Is a douchebag?” Tyler offers.

I burst out laughing, and hear the key card enter with a beep before Holden walks into the room. He stops and stares at me, still in a fit of laughter. His eyebrows raise.

“Do I want to know?” he asks.

Tyler gives me a sad smile before fading away. I look down, and then up at Holden. “Your brother called you a douchebag.”

One of those rare, true smiles forms on Holden’s face. “He knew me.”





Holden

“Just water?” I ask Sam. Since being seated at a corner table in BB Kings, she’s been quiet. Distant. Even though I didn’t make a big thing about walking in on her, again, having a moment with her ghost version of my brother.

I’m learning to roll with the punches.

“Uh, yeah,” she says. “I think I drank enough last night. Still have a bit of a headache.”

“And this is how you party like a rock star?”

She sighs. “I’ll make up for it. Later.”

The waitress raises a pen to her pad, and I say over the bass-filled music, “One beer and a Coke. Keep the water coming.”

Sam smirks as the waitress bounces off. “Caffeine will help,” I tell her.

She rubs her temples. “A dose of pain meds would be better.”

“Want me to run and get you some?”

Her eyes finally find me, and the look on her face makes me uncomfortable. Like she’s trying to piece something together. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

She goes back to checking out the bar, and I go back to checking out her. She’s wearing a tight black shirt that hangs off her shoulders, a dark denim skirt—that nearly made my heart leap out of my chest when she walked out of the bathroom—and her hair is tied back in a low ponytail.