Chapter 32 River
Thirty-Two
River
I stopped by Amelia’s favorite Thai restaurant on the way to my twice-weekly dinner at home. A peace offering. She was hardly speaking to me anymore, and Dad said she was getting home late most nights. Lots of noise, loud music, shouting, and people he didn’t know coming in and out of his house.
It hurt my heart, because I knew my sister, and this wasn’t her. She was on a downhill slide, from ditching classes years ago to hanging with assholes. Something worse was coming if things didn’t change.
I pulled up to the house and found a 2012 Dodge Challenger idling in the driveway, white but dirty and scratched. It rattled and spat plumes of exhaust. Two figures were in the front seat arguing; I heard muffled shouting—one voice low and harsh, one belonging to my sister.
Something worse.
I got out of my truck with the bag of takeout just as the guy made a fast move, and Amelia’s head jerked back and struck the passenger window.
The sound of her head connecting with the glass dropped the food from my fingers.
I froze for a split second, and then rage coursed through me like jet fuel.
I took long strides for the Dodge, my breath rasping in and out of my nose.
Amelia pushed out of the passenger door and slammed it shut, crying and holding her face. The guy—Kyle—wore ripped jeans, Chucks, and a stained T-shirt. He came around the front of his car, charging after her.
“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” he bellowed, whipping his dirty blond hair out of his eyes.
“Leave me alone!” Amelia screamed, backing away. The right side of her cheek was swollen, and a bruise was forming on her temple.
Kyle strode toward her, fist raised. “I told you, never—”
The rest of his words cut off with a whuff as I tackled him around the waist. My face scraped pavement as we both went down hard.
“River!” Amelia screamed from somewhere distant.
I could hardly see or hear for the red haze that had dropped over my vision and the blood thrashing in my ears. I rolled the guy over onto his back, straddling him, and smashed my fist across his face. His head whipped to the side, blood spattering.
“Fuck you, asshole!” he spat.
He threw a punch, but it glanced off my chin. I gripped him by the shirt collar, hauling him up and smacking his head back onto the pavement.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch her, do you hear me?” I raged. “If I see you near my sister again, I’ll kill you.”
Kyle snarled, and his hand jabbed out. A grating pain exploded in my throat, and he scuttled out from under me. I scrambled to my feet, gasping for breath, putting myself between him and Amelia.
“What the hell is this?” asked a voice behind us.
My dad was striding out of the house, hands in fists, his face more animated than I’d seen in years—twisted in rage.
He looked like the football player he’d once been, charging down the line, ready to rip someone’s head off.
He took one look at Amelia’s swelling eye, and his expression turned murderous.
“Did you do that to my daughter?”
Kyle, now outnumbered, backed off. “Hey, man, it’s cool. Things got a little out of hand.”
“You’re going to jail, asshole,” I said as Amelia clutched my arm and buried her face in my back.
“Go ahead and call the cops,” Kyle said, though his voice quavered. “You assaulted me. You slammed my head in the ground—”
“I’m going to do a lot more than slam your head in the ground,” Dad said, his voice shockingly loaded with danger. He backed Kyle up against his car and gripped the front of his shirt, fist raised. “Son, you’re going to wish you were never born.”
“Get off me!”
Kyle shoved my dad back and ran around the other side of his car. He jumped in, tires squealing, the engine sputtering and belching black smoke. I read the license plate as he peeled out, leaving two black streaks on our driveway.
When he was gone, Amelia flew into Dad’s arms. He hugged her tight, stroking her hair.
“Oh, my sweet girl. I’m sorry. Are you okay? I’m so sorry…”
She shook her head against his chest.
Over her shoulder, Dad met my eyes. “What about you, son?”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out. “I’ll call the cops.”
We all went inside the house, and later, two police officers arrived to take Amelia’s statement. After seeing her bruised face, the officers felt they had probable cause to arrest Kyle. They said they’d keep us updated and give us further instructions when he was in custody.
Amelia and Dad sat on the couch long after they’d gone while I paced in a small circle. Dad had his arm around my sister, and she was reluctant to leave the comfort of his embrace.
“I’m sorry,” Amelia said brokenly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s almost like I’m daring bad things to happen to me just so I can feel…anything else.”
“It’s my fault,” Dad said. “I owe you both an apology. I’ve been sleepwalking. I just… I miss your mom so much. Every day. But you both deserve better. I’m going to do better, I promise.” He glanced down at Amelia. “I just wish it hadn’t taken you getting hurt for me to wake up.”
They hugged again, and Amelia looked to me. “River? You’re so quiet.” She crumpled into tears again. “Oh God, your face…”
“Just a scratch,” I said.
My heart was still pounding, my hands still in fists, ready to punch something. Tackling that asshole had awoken something in me too; dams were breaking, and I wished Kyle were still here so I could hit him again and again…
“I gotta get some air.”
“River, wait.” Dad rose from the couch. “You’ve been working so hard, keeping everything together. I’m going to try to do better by you too. I’ll do my work at the shop and at home to make us the kind of family your mom wanted us to be. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said tightly.
“I know you don’t trust me. You have no cause to, but—”
“It’s fine. I believe you. I just… I have to go. You going to be okay, Amelia?”
She nodded. “Thank you, River.”
I muttered a goodbye and left them both staring after me. I hated how I was worrying them, but it faded fast. I had nothing left to give.
I pushed out the front door, no clue what I was doing or where I was going.
My pulse was clanging a heavy beat, and my hand ached where I’d punched Kyle.
I flexed my stiff fingers, but they wanted to ball into a fist again.
The urge to run away came back—to just run and run until I collapsed and then sleep for a million years.
I wandered to my truck with the vague idea to go back to my apartment. I’d left my driver-side door open, Thai food splattered all over the driveway, and Holden was getting out of a black sedan…
I stopped short, staring at the mirage that had to be three years old—the black car with James in the driver seat and Holden…
He wore jeans, boots, a stylish, tight-fitting shirt—black with one white stripe down the left side—and a lightweight jacket that was appropriate for the weather.
No scarf, no sweater, no heavy coat. Christ, he looked beautiful.
Another two years had filled his clothes out even more with lean muscle, broader shoulders.
But his skin—still pale—was glowing with health.
“Are you really here?”
“I’m here,” he said, coming toward me, studying my face, his gaze sharpening. “Who did that to you?”
“Doesn’t matter. What’s happening?” I asked warily, not trusting myself. But Holden was almost in front of me now, a few feet away. I could see the green of his eyes and the small mole high on his left cheek.
“I came to see you.” He swallowed hard. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. I’m really fucking not okay.” I scraped my hands through my hair. “Some asshole just hit my sister, so I fought him, and the police were here, and now you’re here…”
“I’m here,” he said again, moving closer.
I took a step back. “I don’t…I can’t…”
“River.” Holden’s voice was low and still. Calm. “What do you need?”
It was breaking. Brick by brick, the dam was coming down. My breath was coming in heaving gasps.
“I have to get out of here. I don’t know where to go…”
“I do. Come with me.”
Feeling as if I were in a dream, I followed him, and then I was in the sedan, James nodding at me from the front seat. He drove us down to the Cliffs; I recognized the parking lot with the utility shed.
“Wait here, please,” Holden told James.
“Yes, sir.”
Gracefully, he slid out of the seat with a tranquility I’d never seen in him before. Or maybe I was just too wound up and on the verge of exploding and Holden seemed calm by comparison.
He led me down a path on the beach, over rocks and in between large boulders. The way was not easy; at one point, water lapped at my boots, and the ground seemed too rocky where the cliffs had spilled down into the ocean.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Someplace I should’ve taken you a long time ago.”
The path finally grew easier; the ocean receded to a safe distance. We rounded a final boulder, larger than the rest. There was a shack built against the heavy slate rock, sand-worn and weather-beaten, the door hanging off one hinge.
“No one has been here in years, but this is where we hung out,” Holden said, the sun beginning to set behind him, turning his silvery hair gold.
“The Lost Boys. This is where I belonged. Then Miller started bringing Violet, and Ronan brought Shiloh. I wanted to bring you,” he said, his voice thick. “But we were a secret.”
“Why are you bringing me here now?”
“Because this is a place where you can be yourself. You can be whoever you are, and there is no judgment. There’s just you and the ocean.
” He moved closer to me, his hand slipping into mine.
“Let it go,” he whispered, his words torn by the wind.
“This is where you do it. This is where you let it all go.”