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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.
I feel her hand on the side of my face. “I love you,” she says, and I shatter.
Looking into her eyes, I suck in a breath and commit to memory the last time I’ll ever hear those words. “Tyler wasn’t killed by a hit-and-run.” I watch her face transform from compassion to confusion. Before I can back out, I force the words past my lips. “He killed himself.”
Her forehead creases, her mouth parts. But then anger flashes in her bright eyes. “No.” She shakes her head, stone conviction on her face and in her voice. “No, he didn’t. Why the hell would you say that?”
Sharp pain tears through me at my next admission. “He was the one driving his car the night our mom died.” My limbs are quaking, and the words won’t stop. They flow from me unguarded. Like last night when the dam broke, it finished me off. She’s finishing me off. And I’m at her mercy. “I sent him back to his dorm in a cab, and then I left. I should’ve driven him back myself. But I was tired and didn’t want to drive all the way out there.”
She nods slowly. “I know. You’ve told me this.” Then her head yanks back. “Wait. You said dorm this time . . .”
Shaking my head, I admit, “He didn’t take the cab home or to the dorm. He paid the cab driver to turn around and take him back to the bar.” I swallow hard. Her eyes are locked on mine. Unblinking. “After I got a cab for him, I left his car in the parking lot, figuring we’d get it the next day. I drove my truck back to the house, and an hour later, got a panicked call from him. He was talking fast and slurred. Freaking out about an accident.” I have to stop, take a breath. The images banging against my head are turning my stomach.
Sam lays her hands on my thighs, looking straight into my eyes, nothing in her face betraying her thoughts. “What happened?”
I nod once, getting through the rest. Just get through it. “Mom had called him. She’d been out with her friends, and her car wouldn’t start. So she called Tyler to pick her up. She never would’ve called my dad, that’s for sure.” I look away, knowing I’m about to break her heart. “At the time, Tyler was in the bar with the redhead. He went back to be with her, Sam. I’m sorry. He was drunk . . . I tried to stop him . . . but—”
“It’s not your fault,” she cuts me off. Her words are strong, but when I look at her, I can see the hurt dimming her eyes.
