Chapter 34
Blake
The drive back to Harbor’s Edge passes in a blur, the road winding through the familiar landscape, my thoughts miles away. My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I replay the visit in my mind, the haunted look in Sylvia’s eyes, the hollow emptiness of that house… that locked room.
The implications of her Alzheimer’s leave me cold. I’m no legal expert, but how can someone be held accountable if they don’t even remember their crimes? The thought twists in my gut. I wanted to find closure for David, some way to help him, but that possibility seems farther away than ever.
Pulling into town, I park the car and make my way to the boardwalk, trying to shake off the unsettling encounter. The air smells of salt and fried food, a vendor set up on the boardwalk trying to attract the trickle of tourists who’ve come back.
Too bad peak tourist season is over, but the return of visitors to Harbor’s Edge now that most of the beaches around our beautiful town are clean can only be a good thing for the bar and all the other local businesses. At least that’s one thing not keeping me up at night.
It’s a beautiful fall day, with a crisp blue sky and fresh breeze blowing in off the sea, but the horizon is dark, petulant gray clouds drifting our way. It looks like rain.
Turning away from the harbor, I walk with my head down, lost in thought. Just as I’m about to reach the bar, movement in my periphery makes me flinch a split second before a hand grabs me, closing painfully around my forearm, yanking me to a stop.
I spin around, heart lodging in my throat, and there he is: David. His appearance shocks me to my core. His dark hair is disheveled, eyes wild, bloodshot, the whites tinged with a sickly red that makes my stomach turn.
He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling like he’s just sprinted a marathon, but it’s the gauntness of his face that truly unsettles me. The hollows under his cheekbones are more pronounced, his skin sallow and stretched too tight over his bones.
He’s wearing a faded black hoodie, frayed at the cuffs, with a stain on the front. His jeans hang loosely on his frame, held up only by the belt cinched tight around his waist. They’re torn at the knees, and not in the stylish way: it looks like he’s been crawling on them.
He clutches a worn canvas bag close to his side, the strap digging into his shoulder, bulging with who-knows-what inside. The sight of him, so disheveled, so far gone from the David I used to know, sends a jolt through me—a mix of fear, concern, and a deep, aching sadness.
This isn’t the boy I spent three years with trying to survive Sylvia’s house. This isn’t the David who used to sneak me snacks when she wasn’t looking, the David who always had a smile on his face, even when things were tough.
“What were you doing there?” His voice is rough, almost a growl, as he tightens his grip on my arm. His nails dig into my skin, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make his desperation clear.
I swallow hard, my mind racing. “Did you follow me?”
“I’ve been watching her. Watching that house.” He stares at me, the pier extending out into the harbor behind him, the water so blue, the white of a gull peeling away against the cerulean sky, away from the gray clouds creeping closer.
Searching for the right words, forcing a swallow against the dry of my throat. “David, I just went to see her. I guess I was hoping she’d confess to what she did. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help you.”
His eyes are wild, darting between me and the dark clouds on the horizon as if the world itself is closing in on him. The wind picks up, the pier creaking as small waves break against its struts. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, maybe weeks. The skinny boy, the one who vowed with me to always look out for each other, is barely recognizable.
The memory of that vow comes back to me: two scared kids, realizing early on it was just them against the world. No matter what, I’m not going to just give up on him.
“Listen to me. I need you to hear this because I want you to move on, to get the help you need. Yes, I went to see Sylvia. She didn’t even remember who I was. She’s lost her memories. She didn’t know me, and I’m not sure she knows anything about what happened to you, either. I know you want me to give evidence against her, which I can’t do anyway, but I’m not sure there’s any point in you even thinking about taking this further. It’s more important that you heal, that we get you the help you need.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it, just bitterness. “Lost her memories? Yeah, right. That’s convenient, isn’t it? Just like that, the old witch forgets everything she did? And you believe her?” His grip on my arm tightens.
“Please listen to me. We can get you help. We can move forward from this together. You don’t need revenge. You need to heal.”
His eyes narrow: “You’re in on it, aren’t you? You’re helping her cover it all up.”
“No! I would never do that.” I try to pull away from him, but his grip is unyielding and suddenly I’m aware that we’re in a public place, that people who know my moms might see us. I lower my voice, working hard to put on a neutral expression, to act like this is the most natural thing in the world for us to be standing here, for David to be holding my arm, leering over me.
“Look, I’m not covering anything up. I went there because I wanted to understand, to see if there was anything I could do to help you. You mean so much to me. We don’t need to do this. Don’t let her come between us. Please.”
His face is inches from mine now, his breath hot and stale and ragged against my skin. The desperation in his eyes is awful, and unexpected nerves start bubbling up inside me. The waves crashing against the struts seem to echo the pounding of my heart.
“You’re lying!” His voice is low, filled with venom. “You’re all lying. You think I don’t know what’s really going on? You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t see the way everyone looks at me?”
I shake my head, trying to speak, but the words catch in my throat. I’ve never seen him like this, so consumed by paranoia and anger. The old David, the one who said it was the two of us against the world—he’s not here, not right now, anyway.
“David, please. I’m not your enemy. I’m trying to help you.”
But he’s not listening. His grip tightens even more, and I wince as pain shoots up my arm.
Footsteps approaching fast, the sound of heavy boots on the boardwalk. Ethan appears beside us, eyes blazing with anger. He takes in the situation at a glance, and before I can even process what’s happening, he’s shoving David away from me, hard.
“Get your hands off her!” Ethan orders, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he places himself squarely between me and David. His broad shoulders are tense, his fists clenched at his sides, ready to fight if he has to. “Back off, now . I’m not asking again.”
David stumbles, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he rights himself and faces off against Ethan, wild-eyed and desperate. “This is none of your business! Why are you always here?”
“Calm down, man.” Ethan stands a little taller.
David takes a threatening step forward, fists clenched, one arm drawing back, lining up a hit, and for a split second, there’s madness in his eyes—he’s totally out of control, and there’s no reasoning with him.
Ethan doesn’t hesitate. He meets David’s advance head-on, fist flying out in a clean, powerful punch. The impact is solid, the sound of knuckles connecting with bone a sickening crack.
It's a sound that sends a jolt of shock through me, a reminder of all the violence and danger in the world. It's the kind of sound that makes you wince and look away, but I can’t look away because this is my life.
David stumbles back, clutching his jaw, eyes wide with shock. He’s rubbing his face, stunned, as if he can’t quite believe what just happened.
For a moment, everything is perfectly still, a bow string drawn too tight. David blinks at Ethan, taking in the broadness of him, the primal look in Ethan’s eyes. Then, with a shuddering breath, he takes another step back, the fight draining out of him. “You don’t understand,” he mutters, his voice shaky. “None of you understand.”
People on the boardwalk are looking at us, exchanging curious and concerned glances as they whisper to each other. The last thing I want is for this to turn into a scene, something that will get back to my mom, but it’s too late. The situation is already spiraling out of control.
“David, just go.” My voice is pleading as I reach out to him, but he recoils before I can touch him. “Please, just leave before things get worse. I’ll call you. We can work this out.”
He glances between me and Ethan, his eyes full of anger, betrayal, and something else I can’t quite place. Then, with a frustrated growl, he turns away, storming down the boardwalk without another word.