The Darkest Part(72)

“Unbelievable.” I stomp toward my pack and plunk it onto the bed, then dig out a tee and my jean skirt. Not caring what the hell I put on, just needing to get out. Away from him.

“You’re not leaving here like this,” he says, his tone a warning.

“Really? Are you going to call my mom or my shrink and tattle on me?” I step into my skirt and jerk it onto my hips, then pull my tee over my head. “Go ahead. And while you’re at it, get some meds for your issues, too. I’m sure they’ll hook you up.”

He stuffs his hands under his arms and leans against the wall, his stare hard on me. “I never said I was perfect. I do have issues, and I know I’ve made mistakes.”

I laugh for real this time. “Yeah, mistakes. You really botched up getting into my pants back in the day.”

In two quick strides, he’s beside me and turning me to face him. His face is drawn, his pale eyes pools of quicksilver. A muscle feathers his jaw as he grits his teeth. My stomach drops, freefall.

“You don’t know anything about—” He cuts off with a clipped tone.

I raise my eyebrows. “Why don’t you enlighten me, then?”

His fingers dig into my arms as he pulls me closer, the heat from his body seeping through his wet tee and rolling over my skin. His cool eyes lock me in place. My breath hitches, and I’m frozen. Hovering in the moment as his face contorts into a lost expression.

With low growl, he pushes me away. “Fuck!” He turns and slams a fist into the wall. The hard thunk makes me jump.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice wobbly from adrenaline and nerves. “I’m the one who needs help.” I step into my shoes and grab my cross-body purse from my pack and then head toward the door.

Holden doesn’t try to stop me like I think, only says, “You were right about one thing.”

My steps halt. My hand hovers over the doorknob. Keeping my back to him, I don’t ask, just wait for him to either finish his sentence, or release me from his hold and let me walk out.

He blows out a forced breath. “There was a side to Tyler you never knew. Things about him, his life that would make that pool incident seem like swimming with guppies in a tank.” A beat. “And me? I’m shark infested waters.”

With a shaky hand, I latch on to the door and yank it open. “Don’t follow me, or I’ll mace your ass.” Then I’m in the hallway, my legs fighting against the tremble wracking my body as I pump them hard to get away.



I actually do carry mace in my bag. Would I use it on Holden? No. Despite his last words to me and him losing his temper, he doesn’t frighten me in that way. He used to, just under a week ago. But I’ve seen all Holden’s issues acted out since he was in middle school. I’ve been on the receiving end of his angry tirades now a few times, and they no longer scare me. I understand why he has them, what he must be battling because of his past. But he’s the one who needs to seek help. Not me.

And I’m well aware of Tyler’s life—that I knew nothing. He kept whatever issues he had hidden. From me. From everyone.

As I head down the sidewalk, the afternoon sun and warm, humid air drying my hair and shirt from my still-wet bikini, I replay the fight in my head. Over and over. My emotions on high.

I stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the pedestrian light to signal go for the walkers, bikers, and joggers. The sidewalks are teeming with every type, from locals shopping to tourists sightseeing, as I head deeper into downtown.

This strip of the city kind of reminds me of Memphis, with its old brick buildings and run-down looking shops. But it’s not the drinking or partying district like Beale Street. Everything is more upscale. Retro yet chic. Artsy.

I love it.

I think if Tyler and I would have gone on this trip, I might’ve wanted to stay longer than a day. Like the other stops on the trip, it’s such a sharp contrast to the island, but there’s still a small-town feel to it—just without the pretentiousness.

I’ve been walking for about ten minutes when the brick buildings begin to crowd closer together, and more people fill the walkways. I should be scared or intimidated to go off on my own. Especially after spending the past five months locked in my room, my only company my ghost boyfriend. But instead, I feel lighter than I have in months. Like I can do anything, go anywhere, and have no one to answer to.

That’s not true, though. And the heavy reminder that I have to return home to deal with a mom who’s a gossip, a dad who doesn’t want to be near me, and a shrink who wants me to forget Tyler weighs heavily on my conscience. Beating my reality back into place.

I wish Leah and I weren’t so distant. Not physically, but in every other way. Since I’ve blown her off during my grieving, we’ve grown apart. I don’t even know where she’d be right now. Don’t know what new things she’s into, or if she has a boyfriend. Or a new crowd of friends she’s hanging with.