Volition (29 page)

Your skin was an organ.

And I was a sponge.

I was holding the panic at bay even though I wanted to give in—until it started raining harder. That was when I broke.

Everything inside me broke at once.

My body didn’t have to catch up with my mind as I bolted up and tried to claw my way out of the hole. I would have been happy to spend the night in here—in the ground with my family, in the home that I’d have for longer than I am on this earth. I would have been fine if not for the water.

My fingers were clawing, and the mud was underneath my fingernails so far that I was sure it would come out the other side and pop my nails off. I couldn’t get a grip because the sides were melting like some awful dream.

Instead of helping me, the mud was falling back down into the grave with me, and I thought that I might have to claw so much dirt off that I could climb on top of it and get out—except, I realized, that wouldn’t be the case. The more it rained, the more the consistency would change and the water would take over.

I would start drowning in a pit of mud-water that was more like quicksand than anything. This wasn’t regular dirt. It was old dirt from deep in the earth that hadn’t been disturbed for a long time. This dirt would kill me.

I started screaming then—not fake girl-in-horror-movie screams, but real gut-wrenching screams that came from somewhere I didn’t know I had in me. Colin was probably asleep in my room, and he was my best bet. Catherine had gone home hours ago, but Colin wouldn’t have. Colin had had too much to drink, and thanks to me and Jesse, he would never drive under the influence again.

I screamed until my throat started to give out, and I began come to terms with my panic. There was no more panic because my body accepted fate. The mud underneath my feet had turned into a sticky, disgusting, earthy-smelling mess that was making it harder for me to pull my feet out every time I wanted to jump or take a step. There was a strange amount of suction, and it was only getting worse.

The rain wasn’t letting up, and I regretted leaving my phone in my room. I didn’t carry it with me wherever I went because I was boycotting modern society with Colin, only he was better at it. I wasn’t quite as good at sticking it to the man because I lacked passion where he had it in spades.

My passion was elsewhere, like in trying to accidentally kill myself while I experimented in would-be grave holes.

I stood there, numb, holding my mud-covered hands out in front of me like a zombie, but palms up. I was going to die here. This was the end. Everything started to make sense, except that it didn’t.

A brown mop of head showed up in the darkness above the hole.

I felt like I was going to throw up, which meant I was still alive.

“Jesse, get me out. Get a ladder.”

“I’m not going to get a ladder.”

“Then, pull me up.”

It seemed like a reasonable request.

He didn’t move.

“Jesse, I’m serious. It’s cold and it’s dark and it’s raining. You know I hate the rain.”

I tried to reason with him, and I tried to keep the panic out of my voice even though I knew it was still there.

“I’m not going to pull you out.”

I did throw up then. When I was finished, he was gone.

Now, I was in this hole with too much water and dirt, and I would be here until Colin came looking for me in the morning—or until I died.

I wasn’t sure if you could die of shock, but I was fairly sure it was possible.

I’d heard stories of people’s hair turning white from it before they died. I hoped my hair turned white. Then, they would know I died afraid.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to die anymore. I felt like the same sad, scared little girl who watched as the water came over her parents in the car. They didn’t struggle because they knew it was coming.

What hurt the most was that they didn’t look back. Neither of them looked back before they drowned. I used to think it was because they forgot about me. Now, I wondered if they did it because they didn’t want me to see the fear on their faces before they drowned.

I thought it would happen to me, too, but the water stopped just before it came over my mouth. It was closing in, but it didn’t get me. Someone found us and got me out before that happened.

Would it happen again?

I tried one more time to climb the edge, to get out of the grave I had quite literally helped dig.

The second I thought I had a firm grip on the walls, I tried to move my feet. It was no use.

I slipped and fell, and my hands went behind me to break it. My wrists stung as I landed on them, and one finger burned more than the rest. My left ring finger was twisted in a way that didn’t look quite right.

Fuck.

It might as well be that one. I was never getting married anyway. That finger was useless to me.

That thought numbed me enough to survive the night, but that was all I did.

I survived.

Now

“YOU CAN CHANGE your mind. We can turn around now.”

Hayden is calmly driving down the highway to the Hale Plantation, and it’s scaring me. He’s
too
calm. I haven’t slept in two days because of my nerves, and my crazy is showing.

“Turn the car around,” I tell him, trying to be forceful.

We don’t have to go to this. I sent the RSVP for two people, but I didn’t put his name down. They have no idea he’s coming as my guest because if they did the wedding would be more about him than Cece and her husband-to-be.

In fact, I’m sure Lara could twist it, so Cece would marry Hayden instead—not that he would consent, but I wouldn’t put anything past her.

Hayden reaches over and puts his hand on mine. This is a dream, right? This is what every girl dreams of. A beautiful man in a beautiful car, putting his beautiful hand on hers in an effort to calm her in her time of need. This is supposed to be a dream.

Instead, I just feel like I’m going to throw up. I can’t put my present in my past. It’s like me and Jesse. Oil and water.

The irony doesn’t elude me that I met Hayden less than a day after I tried to escape this place, and here I am, dragging him back into it—except he’s walking willingly, and he’s dragging me instead.

“We’re not turning around,” he says, his voice even. “It’s your sister’s wedding.”

He says that like it means something, and I realize it’s because it does in his family. His brother died before he could get down the aisle, so Hayden’s wedding will be the first that the Rockefellers experience of his generation.

“Have you been to a wedding since?”

I don’t elaborate, but I know he understands what I’m asking.

“Yes. It’s been a while, Tate.”

I let out a relieved breath. “Just making sure.”

He slides his fingers through mine, and my heart pounds even harder.

“I hate my family.”

It sounds insensitive, but he doesn’t know how I grew up. I can tell him everything, but he’ll never understand it. Living through it would be the only way anyone would ever understand what I went through. Yes, they kept me afloat financially, but emotionally, I was a vacuum. I only had Colin and Catherine. Casper was never about emotion, and neither was Jesse.

None of these people I’m about to see ever cared about me, but they’re about to the second they see Hayden’s face.

The paparazzi in New York may keep things under wraps far better than the West Coast would, so no one knows we’re together, but once it hits Charleston, there’s no going back.

“Lara’s going to spread this like it’s 1353,” I tell him, voicing my thoughts.

“Did you just compare our relationship to the plague?”

I let out another sigh. “You’ll see.”

Hayden turns off onto the side road that leads to the plantation, and I show him the way to get to Colin’s family estate. I wish I had Colin and Catherine with me, too. An entourage would have helped, especially since the two of them are the only people in the world who understand what this feels like.

I wish I could be like Hayden. I wish I loved my family.

I would have—if Denny and Maggie were here. My life would have been so different. Wouldn’t it?

The trees start to get familiar, and I know the house is about to come into view, sitting there like Longbourn to Kyler Place’s Pemberley. He turns the last corner, and as I see it, I start to sink down into my seat, pulling his hand along with me as I act like a five-year-old.

“I’m going to freak out,” I tell him honestly.

“Tate,” he says, his voice steady, “you can do this. I’m not going to leave you.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight. If I have to go to the bathroom, you’re coming in with me.”

“Isn’t that slightly frowned upon, especially in Southern culture?”

“I don’t give a damn what’s frowned upon,” I tell him. “If I’m alone with them for a second, I’ll scream.”

Dramatic, awful, selfish Tate is coming back. I can feel her seeping back into my body, and all the sense that I gained from the distance is fading fast. Now, I remember why I used to drown myself in substances to avoid precisely this feeling, the feeling that I’m not wanted, that I’m an extra.

I’ll be reminded of that today with Cece’s wedding.

Hayden is a weapon, whether I like it or not, and bringing him will change everything for Lara. I can’t let it.

“Do not show that you like me,” I say, changing my mind. “You’re here as my date, but you have to be noncommittal.”

“Tate, what is going on?”

I can tell I’m throwing Hayden for a loop because he doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“I’m not a good person. This place brings out the worst in me. If Lara sees that this is more than just a date to a wedding, she’s going to try to take me back. She’s going to try to suck me in just like she did Cece.”

“So?” He takes is eyes off the road for a moment to glance in my direction. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

I roll my eyes.

“I need my space from her. I like the way things are now. This is going to change everything.
You’re
going to change everything.”

He squeezes my hand, but I can still see the concern on his face.

“Sometimes, change is good.”

He says that, and I want to believe it, but I resent change. It’s in my nature. Change means a period of uneasiness where I’m not in control, and if there’s one thing I know about Charleston Tate, it’s that she has a power complex.

Hayden pulls up to the massive circle-shaped entrance to the house where I can see various other cars parked.

Maseratis. Teslas. Porsches.

Although this isn’t New York City and the Hales aren’t the Rockefellers, they’re still old Southern royalty, and everyone who is anyone will be here.

A parking attendant I don’t recognize motions for Hayden to slow the car, and another comes to my door as we silently come to a stop. My door is opened, and I know this is it. This is where the vacuum seal breaks, and all the air is going to get me. I wonder if simply breathing this air could turn me back into whom I was. Or is that who I truly am and New York me is pretending?

Either way, I don’t have a choice because Hayden is already out of the car, and one of the valets is now holding his keys, but he refuses to get in the car until I’m out because I’m Tate McKenna.

The second attendant steps aside, so Hayden can reach for my hand, unencumbered. I take it, and the humidity engulfs me like a far off memory. The darkness inside me begs to get out, and I thank God Jesse isn’t here to make it even worse.

After this wedding, I am never coming back to Charleston. I hate this version of myself because although I think I have all the power, I have none. I’m not rational here.

“We should stay in a hotel,” I tell Hayden, tugging on his arm as he tries to walk up the steps toward the front door. “We should have come just for the wedding, not the rehearsal.”

He leans down and kisses me softly, and I know he’s doing his best to figure out what will stop me from going over the edge in the next few seconds.

“It’s two days. Get through two days, and we’ll be back in the city with hundreds of elevators.”

“Hundreds? There are seventy-three in the Empire State Building alone, so I’m saying there must be thousands in the entire city.”

He smiles, and my evil side dies a little.

“Thousands.”

He kisses me again, but before I can relax, I hear my name shouted shrilly from one of the balconies on the front of the house above the door.

“Tate! You’re home!”

Home
is a strong word for it, so I don’t bother to smile as I look up to see Lara standing where Cece just vacated, framed by the billowing drapes behind her.

Moments later, Cece is running out the front doors and down the front steps. She looks like a deer, and her perfect limbs are accented with each stride. Her grace is something I’ll never have. I’m much too harsh.

“Sister!” she says.

I wonder if she really does think this is Longbourn or if she’s just forgotten my name in the whirl of premarital bliss.

“Cece,” I say with gritted teeth. Her body splits mine and Hayden’s apart, and she hugs me as tightly as her delicate little body can. “Congratulations.”