19. Lilah
19
LILAH
My first few weeks in the mountain house passed quickly. I’d packed “my shit,” as Rafe had called it, and driven back up into the mountains with the Bastards on my tail and a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
I’d gotten settled in the room they’d given me when I first stumbled onto the place and spent the next month trying to lie low, working my one job at Burger Haven while trying to find at least one more. It wasn’t that I was itching to get back to a sixty-hour work week, but while the jerks who were now my roommates had been vague about when it would safe for me to return to my apartment, I knew I couldn’t stay at the house forever.
Not that I wanted to.
In the privacy of my own mind, I was willing to admit it wasn’t all bad. The house was luxe, sealed tight against the elements, the fire raging pretty much 24/7 in the living room fireplace. The bed in my room felt like what I imagined a bed in a five-star hotel would feel like, the covers soft and puffy with down, the pillows like clouds.
The view from the wall of glass in my room belonged on a postcard — trees surrounding the clearing around the house, snow melting now that it was April — and the floors were always warm even when I walked barefoot.
The fridge was packed to the brim with good food, the kind of healthy organic food I could never afford to buy, delivered by a burly guy the Bastards called Carter (first or last name?), who came once a week to clean the house and organize the kitchen. I’d gotten used to having steel-cut oatmeal with organic raspberries and real maple syrup for breakfast, big salads prepared ahead of time by Carter for lunch, sometimes with his homemade soup. Dinner was usually cooked by one of the Bastards, who annoyingly were all decent cooks, although Jude was definitely the best.
And then there was the sauna and hot tub, the basement a quiet place to retreat to when the whole situation got to be too much, when I wanted to run, and worse, when I realized I’d stopped wanting to run.
“Hey.”
My eyes flew open at the sound of Nolan’s voice, shaking me from my reverie in the hot tub.
I peered at him through the steam and tried not to stare at his sculpted chest, on full display over his swim trunks, and the V leading to his dick. “Hey.”
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“Um… sure.” It threw me, Nolan showing up while I was in the hot tub. I’d assumed our first run-in outside the sauna — the one where Jude’s white tank top had been plastered to my tits — had left him with a feeling of disgust, because after that the guys left me alone when I was in the sauna or hot tub.
But here Nolan was, in all his muscled glory, dark hair a little long and grazing his ears, the perpetual shadow of scruff along his jawline.
He slipped into the water across from me with a sigh and I shifted on the bench. I’d stopped being afraid the guys were going to assault me at random moments, but that didn’t mean I trusted them. Most days, I still carried my knife in the pocket of my jeans or hoodie, even in the house.
I looked away as he rolled his shoulders. My body had started to do weird things — traitorous things — around the Bastards.
I looked back a moment too soon, just in time to watch him run a wet hand through his hair. It stood up in a way that was somehow both adorable and sexy and that made me want to beat it out of there stat.
“Sorry to horn in on your hot tub time,” he said. “My muscles are tight from today.”
“Today?” I’d gotten used to the way he, Jude, and Rafe disappeared at random intervals. Sometimes they took gear with them, gear that gave hints about their activities: belays and crampons for ice climbing, the hang gliders I’d seen in the equipment room, helmets for the snowmobiles parked in the underground garage.
Other times, they left carrying Kevlar and wearing scary-looking military gear.
They never told me where they were going, what they were doing, or why they were doing it. They just armed the alarm, told me to text if there was trouble, and left in one of the vehicles, of which there were several.
“We hit Dead Man’s Peak today.” His eyes were changeable, sometimes blue, sometimes green, but through the steam coming off the hot tub they looked more green.
“What’s Dead Man’s Peak?” This was fine. I could talk about random shit with Nolan. He kept me in meds, checked my blood pressure and heart rate when I was tired, and was generally considerate and nonthreatening.
“Mountain on the east side of the preserve,” he said. “It’s rough in the summer — not a lot of toe or fingerholds — but it’s fucking terrifying when it’s covered with ice like it is now.”
“Why do you do it?” I asked, sinking lower in the water. “If it’s terrifying, I mean.”
His eyes met mine. “Ever feel like if you stop moving, you’ll die?”
My heart seemed to skip a beat as he held my gaze. “All the time.”
Just keep moving. Just keep going. One foot in front of the other.
They’d been like mantras since that night at Brandon Miller’s party, from the moment I’d realized the Bastards had texted my pics to practically the entire school, through the meeting with my guidance counselor and my mom, through the days of prayer I’d been forced to recite in the closet as penance for my sin, and through what came after, when I couldn’t take it anymore.
Moving was the only thing that had kept me alive right up until my body, my psyche, had just stopped.
Right up until I’d decided I didn’t want to move anymore. Ever.
And then, during my recovery at Oak Hill, my flight from my mom’s house, the struggle to build a life of my own… well, then I was moving to stay alive all over again.
“I had a feeling you’d understand,” Nolan finally said.
“What else do you do to keep moving?” I was surprised to find that I was genuinely curious, that I wasn’t just making small talk to pass the time until I could flee the hot tub, escape to the safety and privacy of my room.
I was mesmerized by the beads of water on his lips as he leaned back against the edge of the hot tub. I wondered what would happen if I waded through the water, licked them off with the tip of my tongue…
Holy mother of intrusive thoughts.
“There’s the stuff you’ve probably guessed,” he said. “Hang gliding, white-water rafting in the summer, base jumping…”
“What’s base jumping?” I’d heard of it but my mind drew a blank when I tried to call up an image of the activity.
“It’s like skydiving but you jump off a tall stationary object, like a building or a bridge.”
He said it casually but my stomach twisted at the thought. “You do that with a parachute? Voluntarily?”
He laughed and I felt it all the way to my toes. And in other places I tried to ignore.
( Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your steadfast love; according to the multitude of Your tender mercy and loving-kindness blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and guilt and cleanse me and make me wholly pure from my sin .)
Speaking of intrusive thoughts. I shook my head to clear it of the prayer.
“Yeah, we do it voluntarily,” he said. “It’s a legit sport.”
“But… you can’t have much time to pull the… rip cord?”
He nodded. “That’s part of the fun.”
“You find danger fun.” I wasn’t asking.
“Rafe finds danger fun. I’d call it something else.” Nolan seemed to think about it. “Invigorating maybe?”
“Invigorating,” I repeated.
He smiled. “You think I’m — we’re — crazy.”
“Sounds more like you have a death wish,” I said.
He sucked in a breath of air. “Wow, you really don’t pull any punches, do you?”
I shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”
Something dark and complicated passed over his features. “Maybe it’s one of the ways we exorcise our demons.”
“Funny,” I said, “I thought you were the demons.”
His nod was slow. “I can understand why you feel that way.”
I took a deep breath, the question I’d been dying to ask — the one that came up every time Nolan carefully placed his stethoscope on my chest, the one screaming to get out when he felt my pulse with tender fingertips — on the tip of my tongue.
“Why did you do it?” I hated that I sounded so… wounded. I’d wanted to sound strong when I finally asked the question.
They’d hurt me enough.
He took a deep breath, moved the roiling water around with his hands as his expression grew pained. “I’ll tell you, but it’s going to sound stupid.”
“I already think you’re stupid.”
It wasn’t true but I was secretly happy when he laughed.
“Touché.” He met my gaze, his eyes shifting to blue as he spoke. “Back then, Jude and I just did what Rafe said.”
“That’s it? That’s your excuse?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say it was an excuse. You asked me why. I’m telling you. Rafe is… well, you know how he is. There are reasons, but that’s beside the point.”
“Okay, I’ll play,” I said. “Why did you and Jude do whatever Rafe told you to do?”
“The short answer is that we were weak.”
Silence settled between us.
“Sorry, were you expecting me to argue that point?” I asked.
He ran his hand through his hair again. Water dripped down his temples and cheeks. “I should probably know better by now.”
I nodded. “I thought you were quicker on your feet.”
“Ouch,” he said.
“So why did you?” I asked.
“I think it was because my dad died when I was a kid. Rafe was the first dick-swinging asshole who took me under his wing. And what can I say? I was like a fucking abused puppy lapping it up.”
“Lame,” I said.
He nodded. “I know.”
“And Jude?” I asked.
“It’s not for me to tell Jude’s story,” Nolan said.
“What are the reasons?” I asked.
“Reasons?”
“You said there are reasons Rafe is the way he is. What are they?”
“Another story that’s not mine to tell.”
“Were you ever really sorry?”
He nodded and held my gaze. “More than you know.”
“During or after?” I asked.
“Both. You didn’t deserve that.”
“No one does.” It came out harsher than I’d intended, but that didn’t mean I regretted it.
He nodded. “You’re right.” For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he met my gaze. “Do you think you can ever forgive me? Forgive us?”
“I can’t speak to Jude and Rafe. Not knowing their stories, I mean.”
He smiled. “Touché again.”
“But for you…”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “For me?”
“Jury’s still out.”
He clutched his heart like I’d wounded him. “I deserve that.”
“And more,” I said.
“And more.” He leaned back, seemed to relax. “It’s okay. I can wait.”
“For what?”
He closed his eyes. “Whatever you’re willing to give me, sweetheart.”
The words sounded strangely suggestive — and even more terrifying than a base jump.