The Darkest Part(91)

And then . . . there’s the real shit. The stuff I’ve kept from her. Stepping away from the toilet, I brace my hands on the counter and stare at myself in the mirror. Fuck. I’m a bastard. An evil one. But I’ve kept things from her for so long, I can’t stomach her finding out now. I can’t lose her.

Because when she does know, she’ll want to get as far away from me as she can.

It’s only a matter of time, though. I can’t continue on like this. I don’t want to keep lying to her. Shit. I slam a fist against the counter.

My fucked up brain has effectively ruined any chance at a good day with her. Shaking my head, I push off from the counter and curse.

As I enter the room, I search the floor for my bag. Leaning over next to the desk, I dig through it, then slip on a pair of boxers. My sight lands on a small notebook lying on the desk chair. More of Sam’s sketches, maybe. I pick it up and thumb through the pages. Pages and pages of scrawl.

My brother’s sloppy scrawl.

I feel my skin pale as the blood drains from my face, sending a million pinpricks all over my body. Then anger bites at my chest, fire-hot.

Sam stirs in the bed, drawing my attention. “Hey, you.” She beams, then her smile falls right off her face as she sees what I’m holding.

“This?” I ask her. “This is how you knew those things?” She flinches at my harsh tone, but I keep on. “Tell me this is not how you knew all that shit. I thought . . .” I press my lips together and grip the notebook. “I actually thought, during really messed up moments, he could be here. You had my head fucking reeling. And then I find this.” My words are spitting from my mouth in heated accusation. And I know, with all my lies, I have no right. But fuck.

Sam pulls the covers around her as she sits up, suddenly hiding herself from me. “He didn’t want anyone to know about it, Holden. I couldn’t tell you.”

I scoff. “Yeah? And he gave it to you? His ghost gave you permission to read it?”

Her face crumples, stricken. Like I just reached out and slapped her. But then, composing herself, she narrows her eyes. “Why are you really so pissed off? Huh?” She tosses the covers off and then stalks toward me.

I drop my gaze. “Put some clothes on.”

She laughs darkly. “After last night . . . are you serious?”

My eyes lift to hers. “I can’t think straight otherwise,” I grit out.

Shaking her head, she reaches down and scoops her shirt off the floor. As she’s slipping it over her head, she says, “I thought he might’ve written something in it before the accident.” She flips her hair out from beneath the collar, then pins me with a hard glare. “That I could find something for you to use . . . I don’t know. To help with the case.”

And like I’ve been punched, my stomach clenches. “Did you?” I wait, my breath stuck in my chest.

She huffs. “No. I haven’t read that far yet.”

With a whoosh of air past my lips, my chest loosens. “I’ll be back later,” I say, storming toward my jeans slung over the foot of the bed.

“What?” Sam marches up beside me and grips my arm, trying to turn me to face her. I hold my place. “Where are you going?”

Ignoring her attempt, I slide on my jeans while trying not to drop the notebook, my movements sloppy and rushed. “To burn this.” Then I pull out of her grasp and yank out a shirt from my bag.

She jerks the tee out of my hand. “What the fuck, Holden?”

“I’m going to burn it, Sam,” I say slowly, pronouncing each word. “Trust me. It’s for the best.” A small sense of relief washes over me. If she was with me last night, then she didn’t get far enough in it to know . . . anything. Maybe there’s nothing in it at all. Maybe there is. I don’t know. But either way, it’s gone. If I get rid of it right now, she and everybody else will never know.

Then I make the mistake of looking at her. I can see the tremble of her shoulders. The shimmer glazing her eyes. Last night was perfect, and now . . . I’m ruining everything. Shit. Fuck. Dropping to the bed, I put my head in my hands. What the hell am I doing?

Sam lowers herself before me, and I close my eyes. Block her out. I don’t want to see the pain I’m causing her. “What is it, Holden? Tell me?” Her voice is shaky and pleading, reaching into my gut and twisting. “What are you trying to hide?”

An ache lodges in my throat. I work to speak past it. “I can’t.” And everything I’ve been holding in for so long comes rushing to the surface. All the nightmares ripping apart my head. Images I can’t ever unsee. I squeeze my eyes closed harder. But they’re still there.