The Darkest Part (3 page)

The pastor is talking, but my ears only hear the whoosh of my blood. The jackhammering of my heart. The room tilts, the annoyingly bright glare of the sun-drenched windows a mockery, a direct contrast to the mood within the church. I brace my hands on the pew, preparing to go up. Glancing around, I locate the exit. I don’t remember standing, or walking. But suddenly I’m pushing through the doors.

Running.

I don’t stop until the fire snaking up my calves reaches my chest, and I collapse. Little puffs of white fog leave my mouth as I pant, trying to catch my breath. Crawling toward a bench, I keep my head down. I feel like I’m going to lose my stomach. But then a pair of black combat boots catches my sight and I stop.

I look up at the guy seated on the bench, his head bowed into his hands. Holden.

Fury and grief and pain and every other emotion I’ve kept buried since I got the call of Tyler’s death comes rushing to the surface. And I’m on my feet and storming toward him.

“You bastard—”

His head jerks up. Mouth parts. Eyes squint. “What?”

Every nerve in my body is flaring, firing off in loud pops that pulse in my vision. My limbs tremble with restraint. “Where were you? Tyler said he was supposed to meet you. That you were supposed to hang out that night.” I take a ragged breath. “But you weren’t with him.
Why?
”

I haven’t seen Holden Marks since he left right after he graduated high school. And when he bounds up and moves toward me, I remember just how much taller he is than Tyler. How much taller than me he always was.

He towers over me now. I tilt my head back to look into his face and notice the trace of a tattoo on his neck, just peeking out against the collar of his black button-up. His dark hair falls forward, nearly covering his icy blue eyes. He draws in his bottom lip, pulling his lip ring into his mouth. Something passes over his face quickly, almost too quickly to discern. But it was there. Confusion, maybe.

“I was supposed to meet Tyler,” he says. It’s a statement, him repeating my words back to me, but there’s a question in it. As if he’s only saying it to give himself enough time to form a real answer. “I was supposed to be . . . and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sam.”

My anger vanishes. As quickly as it was triggered, it disappears, leaving me reeling. The cold air is suddenly biting. I know, somewhere in the depth of my soul, buried beneath the hurt and anguish, it’s not Holden’s fault. But damn it. I need someone to blame. Things like this, horrible tragedies, they have to have a reason
why
. Something or someone has to be the cause. Because I can’t go on in a world where horrible things happen for no reason at all.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Holden says again, and I break.

My knees buckle, and gravity pulls me downward. Only Holden reaches out in time to catch me before I hit the ground. His arms encircle me, cradling my body against his, as I’m wracked with sobs. His embrace is familiar, eliciting memories from too long ago.

His hand strokes my hair, and I’m ashamed that I’m allowing him to comfort me. He’s just lost his only brother, not more than half a year after losing his mother. I should be consoling
him
, standing by while
he
cries and shouts about how life isn’t fair.

Pushing against his hard chest, I back away. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I have to go.”

“Sam . . . don’t. It’s okay.”

His hand reaches out for me, but I don’t look at him as I turn and head in the opposite direction. I don’t know where. Just away.

I meant what I said. But somewhere deep down, I still blame him for not being there to protect his brother that night. And I always will. It’s as much his fault as it is mine.

Sam

The crickets’ chirring grows louder, ringing in my ears like a siren. They cancel out the heavy footfalls I don’t hear until too late.

“I hear you dropped out of school.”

Holden’s deep baritone startles me and I almost turn around. Catching myself, I force my gaze to hold the last bit of sunset over the pond.

It’s more than blaming Holden for abandoning Tyler—more than being near someone who reminds me of the boyfriend I lost. We haven’t
really
talked since I was a freshman in high school, after our falling out.

And since then, something’s happened to not only him but all the Marks’ men. After Shannon’s death, everything changed. Tyler and I, we always told each other everything. No secrets. Since we were scribbling with chalk on our driveways and eating dirt just to see what it tasted like, we shared it all.

But Tyler was keeping something from me. I could sense it. Something that had to do with his mother’s death. I never pried, though, because losing her was the worst thing that ever happened to Tyler. A darkness entered him after the night Holden picked up their mother from a restaurant and she never made it home. Tyler never got past it. Neither did Mr. Marks.

He never forgave Holden. Even though the police report stated Holden’s blood alcohol level was well below the legal limit, and he was never convicted, Mr. Marks disowned his son, forbidding Tyler to contact him.

Tyler was meeting Holden in secret the night he was hit by that car. Holden’s birthday had been the week before; he’d turned twenty-three. Tyler said his brother was only back for a night, just long enough for them to celebrate. Before that, they hadn’t seen each other in just over six months. As hurt and as angry as Mr. Marks was, I was shocked he wouldn’t allow his son to attend his own mother’s funeral.

So I can’t help my overactive brain being suspicious. The fact that both Shannon’s and Tyler’s deaths involved Holden in some way makes me nervous to be around him despite our past. I’m not sure what to say, or how to act. I’m the only one who knows Holden was in town to meet Tyler. I never told that to the police officer who questioned me. I didn’t want to upset their father
more
. But now, being so close to him and my nerves on edge, I question whether I should have.

Only . . . I guess at the time, I was battling with myself. Wondering if reporting it would’ve been some form of revenge on Holden. Our secrets and past are too sordid, confusing the shit out me even now. I didn’t want that on my conscience. And I didn’t want to betray Tyler’s trust.

But it seems my conscience is heavy with doubt and guilt no matter what.

I pluck a long blade of grass from the earth and begin weaving it into a braid with the other two in my hands. Not looking at Holden, I ignore his comment about college and ask, “Where are you staying?” I know it’s not at his father’s house.

He settles on the bank a few feet from me. Out of my peripheral, I take in his long legs covered by dark jeans. Black Dr. Martens, gray thermal, and the black and blue tattoo banded around his wrist. “At a motel. Island Getaway Inn, or something like that.”

I nod slowly, and the silence stretches out like the pond before us. If he thinks he’s obligated to check up on me, then I should relieve him of that responsibility right now. Of all the times Tyler’s come to me, he’s never mentioned his brother. “If you’re in town because of me . . .” I trail off, searching for the right words. “For Tyler. I’m fine, Holden. I know you don’t want to be here, so you can go back to your life. Mine’s all right, okay?”

I can feel his gaze on me. “I’m here checking up on the status of the case.” I do turn to look at him now. “But yeah, I did want to see how you were doing.”

“Do they have any leads?” I ask.

Holden’s dark hair is strategically messy, one side of his nearly black bangs falling alongside his light blue eyes. He still has a lip ring, a silver circular barbell, and he works it between his teeth. He holds my gaze and doesn’t look away. I’m the first to break the staring contest when he finally says, “Nothing new. But I want to keep on them, or else they’ll drop the search soon.”

“They make phones for that.” I hear the venom in my voice.

“Yeah, but it’s easy to dismiss someone over the phone.”

I swallow hard, thinking of all the times I had my mother make an excuse for why I couldn’t take his calls. He has to understand just how hard this is for me. How difficult it is not only dealing with his brother’s death, but the fact that we have a history—a
messed up
history. It’s just awkward to be near him.

He releases a heavy breath. “You still don’t remember if Tyler said anything else that night?”

I shake my head. “Just that he was going to see you. But, maybe you should tell that info to the police.”

My stomach quivers as Holden’s face goes as pale as his eyes. “Have you told anyone that?”

“No,” I say, making my voice hold strong despite the tremble in my body. “No, I haven’t. Tyler didn’t want your dad to know he was seeing you, that he was going against him.”

With a forced exhale, Holden runs a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not sure how angry that’d make him.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want to see my brother’s memory possibly disgraced because of me.”

I know he’s right, and it’s why—even against my better judgment—I’ve never told anyone. For Tyler. I’m not doing anything for Holden. I feel a tickle on my arm and look down to swipe a mosquito away. “Look—”

“Sam—”

We both stop talking. I fan my hand, prompting him to go first.

“I know we weren’t as close growing up as you and my brother,” he says, and a pang hits my chest. “But I’d like to think we were still friends . . . on some level. I have to make sure that you’re okay. That you get the help you need.”

Embarrassed anger rises up within me. Has my mother told him about my doctor visits? About my “major depression with psychotic features?” I don’t think I could handle him knowing. “I just need time alone, Holden. I’m not your responsibility.”

“Yeah, you kind of are.” My head snaps around, and he’s standing up, then stepping closer to me. “After our mother died”—pain flashes across his face—“Tyler made me promise to watch out for you, if anything should ever happen to him. A death makes people think of their own, and he loved you more than anyone. I promised him.”

I stand and brush loose grass from my backside, keeping my sight on the pond. I’m sure Tyler wouldn’t have asked that of him had he known the truth. “Just find whoever hit Tyler, Holden. If you’re really here to help the police with their investigation, then help them. I’ve told you everything I know, and now I want to be left alone.”

I spin, but his hand grasps my wrist, halting me. He immediately releases it, and his hand clenches into a fist. “When did you get that?” He nods at the tattoo on my wrist.

Reflexively, I clamp my hand over the inked tree, its trunk starting just above my palm and the thin, wiry branches reaching up and out toward my forearm. “When I turned eighteen. It was my birthday gift to myself.” My face flames, and I can’t meet his eyes.

Silence hums in the air, charged. It presses against me.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, his voice raspy. “It suits you.”

My pulse hammers against my veins as a memory covers my vision.
I’m suddenly chilly, the rain soaking my hair—but warm arms cradle me . . . soft, strong lips caress mine.

I fasten my eyes shut. Then opening them, I look up into Holden’s face.

“Well,” I say, inching backward. “Tats are supposed to mean something. But mine doesn’t,” I add quickly, and watch as he flinches, my words hitting him like a punch. “I’ve just always loved dead trees. Always loved drawing them.” I shrug, layering on my nonchalance.

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he grits his teeth. Sinking his hands into his jean pockets, he schools his features into a calm expression. “Later, Sam. Please take care of yourself.” He nods once before leaving.

I’m left standing near the pond, shaken at his abrupt dismissal.

As I walk home alone, the darkness creeping along with me, I trace my thumb over my tattoo. Remembering.

Holden

Shifting into a lower gear, I take the curve fast and hard. I can feel the tires drifting over the asphalt, burning the tread. I wish I could rub out my memories as easily as I can burn up a pair of tires.

Sam looks bad. She’s never been girly, not one to really care about her appearance all that much, but she’s never let herself go like this. Always had her hair dyed, hiding the blond beneath. Used to wear a nose ring—the one Tyler used to give her shit for. And she’s always dressed like the artsy person she is. Or was.