The Darkest Part (26 page)

Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Yup. I sound like a chick. But being around Sam is doing that to me. It’s also draining. I can’t fault her completely, though. I’m doing a fucking fantastic job of sucking the life right out of myself. I’m sure she’s sick of dealing with me, and that’s why she needed to get away.

I push myself back against the wall and stare at the black flat screen, too crapped out to bother to turn it on. After about five minutes of creepily sitting in silence, I realize Sam hasn’t messaged me back.

Cold fear skates down my spine. I try to keep from imagining the worst, but suddenly too many terrifying situations pop into my mind, and I’m on my feet. She’s probably fine, I tell myself. But she did try to jump out of a moving vehicle.
Fuck
. What the hell was I thinking letting her go off by herself?

She was way too calm, eerily collected when we got here. And just before that, she was blazing mad and ready to hitchhike to God knows where. Even though sometimes she seems lucid and sane, I remind myself that she’s unstable. That at any minute, she could snap. That her mother trusted her in my care. And after what I said to her in the truck, making her question her sanity, she could be having a freakin’ meltdown right now.

“Hell.” I don’t bother with my shoes as I head for the door, then I’m buckling my belt on the way to the elevator. Once inside the car, I brace my hand against the wall, ready to bolt as soon as the
ding
rings out.

The chlorine smell hits me first, and I follow it down a short hallway past the vending machines. Hotel pools always seem to be near them. When I’m just steps away from entering the pool area, I spot Sam. She’s sitting on the steps in the shallow end. A rush of air releases from my lungs in a hard
whoosh
. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

I lift my foot to take a backward step, but plant it right back down as I hear Sam’s soft voice. I crane my neck, angling my ear to hear past the echo of the closed-in area.

“Forever wasn’t good enough,” she says, her voice getting louder. “At least not for you. And maybe not for me. I mean, all we’ve ever known was each other.” She looks down at the water lapping her thighs and shakes her head. “But if you had no doubts, then that bar girl never would’ve happened. And why did you keep knowing how I felt about Holden from me? Why didn’t you ever bring it up?”

My heart ceases to beat in my chest.

I anxiously hover on the balls of my feet, the cold tiled floor seeping through my socks, as I wait to . . . what? Hear Tyler’s response? I almost unleash a curse, but clamp my molars together hard. Sam’s not even giving the ghost version of her Tyler the chance to respond.

I should leave. This takes creeper to a whole new level. I’ve made sure Sam’s okay. She’s not in any danger. I need to go.

Lifting my foot again to leave, I’m decided on the right course of action until, “It wasn’t like that, Tyler. I didn’t want to admit it, not even back then. I wanted it to be a stupid crush, because it was easier to deal with but . . . I loved him.” I can see her swallow hard from here, the subtle movement of her throat. And I’m frozen in place.

My body feels trapped, suspended in the moment.

“I loved you so much. You were my everything . . . and I wanted us to
be
forever. And we would have—should have been.” A sad smile touches her lips. “But I loved Holden first. It was different, but he was my first love. You can’t hold that against me or him.”

With my heart beating in my ears, I finally take that backward step. And then another. And another, until I’m in the hallway and my back hits the wall.

No way in hell am I going to listen to her breaking up with my dead brother. There are some things I don’t need to hear—to have on my conscience. Wait—is she breaking up? It sounds like the makings of a breakup speech. But maybe she’s just working out whatever she needs to in her mind to really let him go.

If she’s unable to accept his death, maybe this is the next logical step for her. Like she needs to first end their relationship or some shit before she can move on. It seems messed up. But I won’t even pretend to know how it works. I just hope it’s not fucking her mind up more.

But, her words . . . shit. She said she loved me. Past tense. Back then, but still. I don’t know what to do with that, other than be the selfish ass that I am and revel in the fact that maybe—if she felt that strongly before—I might have a chance at fixing what’s broken between us now.

I thump the back of my head against the wall.

Am I really this warped? As if the torture I’ve been putting myself through this entire trip isn’t enough, I’m practically begging for the full, crushing heartache.

A splash calls my attention. And then Sam cries out, her scream becoming garbled.

I take off toward the enclosed poor area. “Sam!” The frantic splashing sound stops before I reach the edge of the pool. Sam’s scream is gone. My chest heaves as I scan the pool, my eyes searching the rippling water. My sight locks on to her body in the deep end.

“Shit—” I don’t think; I dive. My hands go up over my head and I jump off the cemented ledge.

I feel the shallow end first and I push off, propelling myself through the water. The chlorine stings my eyes, but I keep them open and spot her thrashing body easily, targeting her black bikini. Swimming up to her, I circle an arm around her waist, then kick off the bottom.

I break the surface of the water with a gasp, and turn her around in my arms to face me. She’s sputtering, coughing, but breathing.

As I tread water, I keep her body close to mine. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She clears the tangles of hair from her face, and her bright eyes look around. “It wasn’t his fault,” she says, anxiety lacing her voice. “He didn’t mean to.”

Spitting a curse, I anchor her back against my chest and then swim us toward the deep end ladder. When my feet touch the bottom rung, I grasp the metal and help her to do the same, supporting her until she’s stable.

Clasping the back of her neck, I bring her closer, forcing her to look into my eyes. “What are you talking about?” Each word comes out slow and deliberate. And I’m begging God for her to answer in any way other than what I suspect.

She coughs out the rest of the water in her chest and shakes her head. “I can’t, Holden.” Her eyes well, liquid other than pool water shimmering on their surface. My chest constricts.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice gravely. “I won’t say anything asinine. I promise.”

This must convince her, or maybe it’s the resolve in my voice. Or whatever my face is betraying of the emotions pummeling me. But she jerkily nods as she bites her lip.

“He came back,” she says. “I think everything . . . you being around, me away from home . . . has been making it more difficult for Tyler to manifest.” That word triggers something dark inside me. I don’t like it. “But he finally did, and I—
we
needed to talk.” Shame flashes in her eyes before she looks away. “We argued. He became angry. And somehow when he vanished, it was like he was being sucked into a black hole.” She shivers, and without thought, I run my hand along her arm. “This blackness reached out and pulled me under. But it wasn’t him. He didn’t do it.” Her eyes enlarge, pleading. “He wasn’t trying to hurt me. It was just something that happened.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh, God, what if he’s really gone this time. There was so much blackness . . .”

Taking measured breaths, I get my body under control, but my mind is loud and turbulent. My heart bangs painfully against my chest as I hold her gaze. I won’t look away and make her think I doubt her. But shit. This is going too far. No matter what she’s struggling with inside, I can’t let her hurt herself. She believes she’s not doing any of it. But she’s doing all of it.

And what happens next? When it’s time for Sam to say goodbye to my brother—when we’re leaving our last destination—and she cracks. Will she throw herself off a bridge? Will she slit her wrist, claiming Tyler’s
manifested
spirit made her do it? She’s slipping further and further away. From reality. From sanity.

From me.

And I just got her back.

No fucking way
.

I inhale a deep, stinging breath before I say, “Come on.”

Her brows pull together, but she nods. “Okay. And thanks.” She smiles hesitantly. “For pulling me out.”

Returning her smile with a tight one of my own, I don’t explain anything as I climb the ladder and then turn to help her out. I don’t say another word as I grab her towel and wrap it around her shoulders, securing it in the middle, while my soaking clothes weigh heavily on my body. My mind is reeling. And when I lead us to the elevator, receiving curious glances from the hotel staff, I just hit the button for our floor.

All these things I do with one thought on my mind. One blaring truth that grips my insides and won’t let go. This is it. And I’m about to fuck up any chance I have with the one girl I’ve loved since high school. Hell. If I’m being truthful, long before that. But screw what I want. It’s never been about me. And it’s sure as shit not about Tyler anymore.

It’s about getting this girl the help she needs.

Whatever comes after . . . will come after. I’ll deal and accept it and go on.

Sam’s more important.

After we’re back in the room, I peel off my pants, ignoring Sam’s blush. At least I’m wearing boxers—I’m glad I brought some. I normally don’t wear them. But being around her gives me the fucking libido of a fifteen-year-old. And a boner rubbing against jeans is highly uncomfortable.

I know I affect her, but this has nothing to do with sex. I’m cold and wet and about at my limit. Tossing my soaking jeans to the floor, I stalk toward my bag and lug it to the bed.

I’m still in my wet T-shirt and should probably change, but I don’t want to take the chance I’ll lose my nerve. Not a moment to second-guess my backup plan. My stomach clenches, and I hate that it’s come to this. I rummage through and dig out the plastic Ziploc buried at the bottom.

Yanking out the bag, I place it on the bed and look expectantly at Sam.

Her face falls. “What’s that?”

With a determined breath, I suck in courage and then say, “Your meds.”

Sam

I’m trembling, but it has nothing to do with the AC hitting my wet bikini. My eyes lock on to the clear bag with two orange medication bottles, and my back stiffens.

“How did you get those?” I pull my towel tighter around me. I don’t ask how he managed to fill new prescriptions when I’d flushed my current ones down the toilet. I feel my question covers just about everything.

Holden exhales a heavy breath and runs his hands down his face, his palms pressing together and pausing over his mouth. Like he’s in prayer. His eyes hold mine the whole time. Then he crosses his arms over his soaked T-shirt, his wet hair darker, his bangs dripping fresh beads of water down his face.

“I spoke with your mom before we left,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, you didn’t. I was with you, remember?”

He takes a step toward me. “Before I went to the train station,” he clarifies. “I needed to know exactly what was going on with you, and”—his expression transforms into something akin to pity. I’m tempted to punch the look off his face—“I wanted to be prepared if anything bad happened. And, I think we’re at bad.”

I don’t know what to address first. The fact that he and my mother are conspiring against me, or that he might think I’m one short trip away from being committed. Anger snaps fire-hot in my chest, and suddenly the towel is binding. The room too warm.

Letting the towel drop to the floor, I fist my hands on my hips, unconcerned that I’m standing in front of him in only my bikini. “You talked to my
mom
about me . . . about us going on this trip? You went behind my back, to my own family, and what?” I cock my head. “Plotted nefariously to get me to take my stupid meds?”

“They’re worried about you.” Holden’s eyes never leave mine, deadlocked and ice blue. “And ‘plotted nefariously?’ Come on, Sam. You have to hear how paranoid you sound.”

I mock laugh. “Oh, no, Holden. It’s just my crazy coming out.” I wave my hands in the air. “Nothing to do with the fact that what I just said is completely true, though, right? Way to avoid my question.”

“I’m not avoiding. I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The truth, Holden!” My breaths sting my lungs as the heat searing my nerves fires through me. “Did you come with me because my mom asked you to? Was this some kind of lame setup?”

His head jerks back, his face looking wounded. “No. Not at all. Rachel was concerned you weren’t taking your meds, so I offered to bring them along. And she was right. You haven’t once taken a pill.”

“It’s none of your business. You went behind my back. You told my mom I was taking this trip. What gives you the fucking right?”

He steps closer, and I move back. Keeping enough distance between us where I don’t feel threatened by his proximity or touch. “I was just concerned, all right? I’d known that something was wrong. I mean, apparently you’d dropped out of school, stopped taking showers, were talking to yourself, and wouldn’t leave the house.” He presses his lips into a hard line. “And she told me you were seeing a psychotherapist. I put a lot of it together on my own.”