Chapter 2
I met Carter Delaney on a sunny afternoon on the first day of my freshman year.
He sat on top of a long desk that had been pushed up against the floor-to-ceiling windows in the student lounge. Light streamed in from behind, making it look like he glowed. Like an angel. As if the sun only shone for him.
It would have been funny were it not so completely mesmerizing. There was just something about Carter that was different from anyone else I had ever met. Benji and Linden sat in chairs on either side, making the table look like a stage. Or a throne.
Carter Delaney was a young king in a dark green hoodie.
And by default, I worshiped him without him ever having to speak.
I had heard of Carter—everyone had. At our small arts college, he was a legend.
When he was fourteen, he had won the award for best teen writing from the National Book Association.
Every year after, he’d placed first in several literary contests.
And instead of doing his mandatory gap year volunteering at an art gallery or backpacking through Europe, he went to Asia to study the roots of poetry and storytelling.
He could have gone to any college he wanted, but he picked Suttleton.
Tucked away in the mountains, Suttleton Academy of Fine Arts had been founded by a lineage of women committed to the timeless pursuit of self-expression. At least that’s what the flyer said.
For me, Suttleton was my family’s legacy.
My great-great-grandmother had purchased the land, my great-grandmother had built the first building, and every generation after it had added to the school.
It was our gift to the generations that followed.
Like the gift of our last name, passed from mother to daughter, and not the surname of our fathers.
We were Monroe women, and all Monroe women went to Suttleton.
I had been dreaming of this moment my whole life—the day my world would finally make sense, and art would be at the center of my identity.
No one would ask if I was related to the odd woman with the yarn, or if I lived in the house with all the sheep.
I would enter the magical portal that was college. I could decide who I was there.
So when Carter finally looked up, his bright eyes trying to place or study me, it felt like it was meant to be.
I liked being something he was trying to figure out. When a slow smile carved over his features, I knew I was done for.
My cousin introduced me and ordered her friends to be nice, but she mostly looked at Carter, who held his hands up as if he were surrendering. Benji asked if everyone wanted to grab sandwiches in the cafeteria later. Carter said he needed to go buy books because he forgot to order used copies.
It felt so … grown-up.
This was college.
I sat next to Carter at a round table in the corner.
He leaned toward me when he asked me questions about my first day and who my professors were.
He laughed when I made terrible jokes that the others only smiled at politely.
And I didn’t even mind that he had moved closer to me, only inches separating us. He said it was to hear me better.
When Max showed up with a grin and a bag of black licorice that he handed to Linden with a comment about it being disgusting, I felt my chest tighten. It was a very different way from how I felt with Carter. As if my whole body knew that Carter was safe, and Max was … not.
This wasn’t the first time I’d seen Max.
And when he noticed me, the smile faded from his face. I wasn’t used to people not smiling at me then.
Now, every room I’m in, no one is smiling.
Because Carter is dead, and he took all the light with him.
At the Delaney house, Carter’s sister talks with an older couple who hold expensive crystal glasses of wine.
She notices me staring and gives a small nod.
I take a deep breath like my mother taught me, in through the nose and out through the mouth, and look around.
I wish Carter were here. He would say something that was mostly inappropriate, and I would pretend to laugh.
The entire house is filled with people from Suttleton. Alumni talking in low voices to other alumni using words like devastating talent and in his prime.
As if Carter could be distilled down to his writing. As if that was the thing we lost. His art.
Linden talks with an older woman I recognize from years of donor dinners and alumni gallery openings in the kitchen. Max is surrounded by older men I don’t know and nods absently as they speak. In the corner of the massive sitting room is Benji, talking with people from our school.
I take the opportunity to slip out the back door to the garden. The pool glistens in the sunshine, and I close my eyes, thinking about how many days we spent lying on rafts, soaking in the heat from the sun and the cool of the water.
Carter’s hand slipping from mine.
“Open your eyes, Nieve.”
Except water is dangerous now.
Carter’s dad sits outside in the garden and faces an ancient swing set. He looks lost in thought as he takes a sip of wine, probably from the vineyard they invested in last year.
It reminds me of the time Carter bought a bottle when he turned twenty-one. When the cashier asked for his ID, he proudly fished it from his wallet. But instead of his real one, he pulled out his fake. Carter didn’t even notice till the cashier thanked Mr. Dillon and not him.
I smile, and a weird ache fills my face.
The muscles have probably atrophied.
I take a step toward Mr. Delaney, but before I can approach him, Linden stops me.
“You still doing good?” She runs a hand down my arm.
“I was gonna…”
Linden makes a face, and I wonder what she thinks will happen if I talk to Carter’s dad. I’ve been avoiding his mom and her relentless positivity. Lucky for me, she seems to be stuck in the kitchen, thanking people for endless casseroles and cookie trays.
I lie to Linden. “I’m good.”
She takes a deep breath, and her eyes move over to the giant windows that show Benji sitting in the house. I can just imagine what’s being said. Some version of Max said she killed Carter. We shouldn’t talk to her.
I wonder if Benji will defend me. Maybe he’ll agree.
“Say the word and we’re gone,” Linden tells me.
These are her friends, too. From before I followed her to college and threw myself into her close-knit group.
I sit on one of the ridiculous iron benches sculpted to look like it should be in the gardens of Versailles and close my eyes, tilting my face toward the sun.
Last time I sat here, I was happy. Even though I can barely remember what happiness looks like.
Time moves and the sky darkens, but I don’t get up.
Laughter floats toward me, bouncing against the ground, soft from summer rain.
It would have made Carter happy that his friends were happy.
In this place where he played hide-and-seek behind perfectly manicured hedges.
Where he camped in the woods to see the stars when he needed to escape his house. Where he could just be Carter.
The garden starts to fill with more people.
Someone starts a fire in the giant stone pit his parents always light for parties.
Max stands only a few feet away from me.
His hands are in his pockets, and he stares down at the flames.
I wonder if there was ever a time when Max and I didn’t hate each other.
Or have we always been like this? He looks up and notices me, his eyes wide and lost in thought before they narrow.
I don’t look away. Even though I know I shouldn’t be here, Max won’t be the reason I leave.
Several bottles of Carter’s favorite whiskey are being passed around. I wonder if they were taken from his room, or if someone brought them. What will happen to the bottles Carter’s been collecting? Collected. That’s something he can’t do anymore.
“You good?” Linden asks me. Again.
I wonder if there’s a limit to the number of times a person can ask that.
“I could use a drink.”
She nods and walks toward the whiskey, knowing beer won’t be enough. I’m alone at the edges of this memorial, listening to people remember Carter between moments of flirting and arguing about stupid things.
He would have loved this.
Linden brings back a red cup filled with whiskey and ice. Her cup has Coke in it, and I roll my eyes.
“I don’t care where we are, Carter will never get me to drink this swill straight.” She grins, but a second later, it fades from her face. As if she’s realizing she made a joke. At a funeral.
I smile because Carter would have loved that, too. Except my smile is met with tears that I can’t seem to help. “He would expect nothing less.”
She motions with her cup at a girl who holds a notebook and a fistful of pens. “They’re writing letters to Carter over there and burning them … so that…”
So that the symbolic gesture of saying what you never got to doesn’t go unfinished.
I take a sip. And another. People whisper my name, but only a brave few come up to me and tell me they’re sorry for my loss, share memories, or tell me how much Carter meant to them.
Some even have the courage to ask what happened. How I lost Carter in the water. How I was rescued but he wasn’t.
I don’t answer them. I just watch the unspoken words burn.
Open your eyes, Nieve.
But they are, and I wish they weren’t.
Max’s and Benji’s voices rise. They’re standing with someone whom I don’t recognize. A guy our age, maybe older, with dark features and a light blue hoodie that says ASHER’S BAIT AND TACKLE FLORIDA. Next to him is the girl with dark hair from the graveside service.
Her eyes find mine in the darkness, and I watch as she takes three steps in my direction before Max cuts her off and stands in front of her.
There’s more arguing after. I don’t know what’s being said, but Benji steps between them. I look over at Linden, wondering if maybe she knows them, but she appears just as confused as I am.
The guy with the hoodie pushes Max. Hard.
Max stumbles back but doesn’t fall.
“What the fuck,” Max says more than he asks. His brows are pulled low over his eyes.
The hurt and anger Max has been holding on to is changing into rage. Anyone can see it. Benji has his hand on Max’s chest as if to stop him from doing something he shouldn’t. My heart clenches as I watch.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Max yells.
“What’s your problem?” Hoodie asks. “Don’t talk to her like that.” He’s pointing at the girl.
“I’m not talking to her,” Max says. “I’m talking to you.”
Benji turns to the guy. “Don’t do that here. This isn’t the place.”
“She can talk to whoever she wants.” Hoodie Guy doesn’t bother to lower his voice.
Max steps forward, but it almost looks like a lunge, and Hoodie steps back. “Leave. Now.”
Hoodie laughs. “Fine, but eventually, she’s going to hear it.” His eyes move over to me. “Come find me when you do, Nieve!”
Max punches Hoodie in the jaw, and suddenly, there’s a group of people surrounding them.
“Fuck you, Max,” Hoodie says.
The girl from the funeral, the one who sat with Carter’s family, takes his hand, and they walk back to the house, checking his jaw as they go.
Everyone is looking around, afraid to resettle after the outburst. But Benji does what he does best and turns on Carter’s favorite Willie Nelson song.
The twang of a guitar has the tension in the air dissipating, but Max stands holding his drink and is clearly still frustrated.
Without thinking, I take a large swig from my cup and walk toward him. He sees me coming and his body shifts, as if Max is trying to decide if he’s going to make a run for it.
Coward.
Fucking coward.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.” His response is automatic, and it makes me feel like a child.
“Don’t lie to me. Just say it.”
Max shakes his head. “Just go back to—” He waves widely at the place I had been sitting.
“What was that guy going to say? Was…” I swallow. “Was Carter cheating on me?” My voice is high and frantic when I ask.
Max looks at me, almost embarrassed. “No.”
Just the one word. My heart has been rubbed raw, and I’m too tired to press him.
Max has never liked me. Not when Carter and I started dating, not when we got serious and Max claimed Carter didn’t have time for him anymore, and not on the very few occasions that Max actually hung out with the two of us together.
I can feel the frown deepen on my face. My anger is growing into confusion. “Then what were you talking about?”
His sigh is deep and heavy. I feel it hang in the air between us. “Just go back to Linden and—” But he pulls his other hand from his pocket to motion toward my cousin, and I see it.
The gold bracelet on his wrist.
My hand reaches out and grabs his without thinking. I pull it to me, and Max, either too surprised or too tired, lets me. The cool metal of the chain slips under my fingers, followed by a small flash of gold when I reach the ID tag.
CHAD III.
The wrist wearing it now is darker, stronger, and there is a spot of blue paint on the top of the metal.
I rub the metal between my fingers, feeling the slick surface, and wonder when it came off.
Did Carter remove it before he got in the water, or was it discarded somewhere before? Did he give this to Max? Did Max take—
“Where did you get this?” I ask it with an edge to my voice.
Max pulls his hand from mine. His face flashes with anger, but his words are soft. “Fuck you, Nieve. You’re not entitled to every piece of Carter.”
“I didn’t…” I step back because I’m not sure I agree with him. I am entitled to these things about Carter. I was the love of his life.
Max is so close to me I can see the specks of brown in his green eyes and the thin gold chain that sits against the hollow of his throat. The anger falls away from his face, and he looks almost kind. Almost human. We haven’t been this close since those few nights right after Carter drowned.
He sighs. “Is there a reason you’re over here?”
Yes.
The guy in the hoodie …
A hand circles my arm. “Nieve, come burn shit with me.” It’s Linden.
She hands me a paper and a pen with a hug.
Her vanilla perfume reminds me of a hundred days where life was simple.
And Carter was here. So I walk to the fire with a piece of paper in my hand and think about the millions of things I never said to Carter.
That I hated whiskey.
That I wanted to go to Italy for my twenty-first birthday.
That sometimes my heart felt small because he was so big.
Instead, I write what I need to say.
I write the only thing that matters.
COME BACK TO ME.
I watch the paper burn, the edges curling and turning black. It brightens the whole fire before it dies out and darkens.
And I think about how this is the last time the light will shine for Carter.