Thirty-six
Sienna texts me just after four, letting me know that she’s at the hospital and there’s no sign of Chief Farrow.
I sweep the house from top to bottom, finally finding my car keys at the back of a drawer in my dad’s desk. I’m buzzing the entire way to the hospital, nerves and excitement thrumming through me, making keeping still impossible. My leg jiggles, fingers tap against the steering wheel. But when I finally park and walk through the front doors, all my adrenaline fades.
I duck behind a potted plant, my breathing uneven as sweat drips from my brow. What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if his uncle has told him that I’m the one who hurt him? Him rejecting me, that will make this already unbearable pain I’m feeling so much worse. Only one way to find out, I suppose… I straighten my button up shirt, run a hand through my hair and keep moving.
Yeah, I dressed up for him. So what? I’m not above using my looks to try and tempt some of his memories to the surface.
Except, when I make it to his room, after dodging multiple nurses and doctors, I realize that all my worrying was for nothing.
Oakley’s fast asleep.
I lean against the door jamb, huffing out a laugh at my stupidity, before my gaze fixes intently on his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful, so at ease. Nothing like the troubled boy I know. There are no frown lines on his forehead, the bags beneath his eyes have faded some. It doesn’t matter, though. Oakley Farrow’s always been beautiful to me, no matter what he looks like.
It’s only when she clears her throat that I notice April sitting in a chair beside him.
“Sorry,” I murmur, feeling my face turn hot. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
“Sienna’s grabbing us something to eat. She said she’d be back in a minute.”
“Oh. Right. Well, I guess I’ll just—” I hike my thumb over my shoulder, back up a step.
Her face scrunches up. “Where are you going? You just got here.”
“I, uh… I don’t wanna intrude or—”
“You’re not.” She pats the empty seat beside her. “Come sit.”
I take her up on her offer, perching on the edge of the chair, fingers twisting in my lap. Oakley’s steady breathing fills the silence. I watch the rise and fall of his chest, momentarily mesmerized.
“He’s been out for about an hour,” April says. “They’ve put him on some new pain pills. The nurse said they make him really tired.”
I nod, throat bobbing as I swallow.
I feel April’s eyes on me, watching me. My heart hammers inside my chest. Is it weird to be so intimidated by an eight-year old girl? Probably.
“You love him, don’t you?” she asks after a while. I whip my head around, eyes bulging. “Are you boyfriends?”
“How’d you know that?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out. I see the way you look at him, with hearts in your eyes and stuff. It’s cute.”
If I thought my face was red before, it’s got nothing on now. My cheeks are burning, completely on fire. “Yeah. I guess I do look at him like that.”
“He does the same to you, you know?”
I frown. “He does?”
“Yeah. The drawings of you, anyway. The ones in the journal he tries to keep hidden. I’m not supposed to know about it, but I’ve seen him get it out tons of times. Sometimes, he stares at the pages for hours, just running his fingers over the paper.”
A tear slips free, then another, a wobbly smile taking over my face. Until now, I’d forgotten about Oakley mentioning the journal, how he’s drawn out every moment of our journey together. But, the part about him sitting there and fixating on the pages? I didn’t know that. God, he must have really loved me.
“You know,” I start, nudging April with my elbow. “Sometimes I forget how young you are. You don’t talk like an eight-year old at all.”
“I get that a lot. I’m pretty smart for my age.” She shrugs, waves her book in the air. “I read a lot.”
I laugh, shaking my head. I can see why Oakley thinks so much of her, not just because she’s his baby sister but because she’s brilliant. Funny and bright and charismatic. Exactly like him.
“You know,” she says, repeating my words, nudging me this time. “If my boyfriend forgot who I was, I’d bet showing him a journal full of pictures he drew of me would be a pretty good way to help him remember. Kind of romantic, too.”
My mouth drops open. “You think that the journal would—” I stop, jump to my feet. Jesus, she’s right. She’s absolutely right. Images he’s drawn from his own memories? What could be better than that? “Holy shit.” I slap my hands over my mouth, turning slowly toward her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay. If there’s ever a time to curse, this is probably it.”
Laughing again, I throw my arms around her, pulling her in for a squeezing hug as I kiss the top of her head over and over. She giggles and tries to shove me off, but I don’t let up.
“April, you’re a freaking genius.”
When I pull away, she’s beaming so hard that her face almost splits in two.
I crouch beside the bed, trailing my finger down the side of Oakley’s face, careful not to wake him. Then, I press my lips to his forehead in a lingering kiss. “I’m gonna fix this, baby,” I whisper against his skin. “I’m gonna help you remember.”
I turn and dart out of the room, a newfound lease of life buzzing beneath my skin. I round the corner, almost crashing right into Sienna.
“Asher,” she exclaims, lifting her arms to protect the bag of food she’s carrying. “Where are you going?”
“I gotta go,” I call back over my shoulder, not slowing down. “I know how to make things right!”
She stares at me quizzically, but I focus my attention back in front of me, speeding up my strides. I get back to my car and crank the engine, tires squealing as I peel out of the parking lot. Just like I hoped, Chief Farrow’s cruiser is nowhere in sight when I make it onto Oakley’s street. I pull up outside the house, glance around to make sure the coast is clear, then make for the front door. It’s locked, of course, but I find a spare key beneath the mat and let myself inside.
It’s weird being here, the space where Oakley’s lived for the last year, without him. And it’s not at all what I expected, either. It’s bare and bland. No colors or warmth or personal items anywhere. Not a single picture, nothing to show any happy memories were made here. Even though my home life has sucked over the years, we’ve still got photos on the walls, drawings I made when I was a kid. Here, there’s just… nothing.
I walk further into the house, only now noticing the broken furniture that’s been taped together, the cupboard doors hanging off in the kitchen. A lump rises in my throat. Jesus, the shit Oakley must have gone through. I can’t even imagine.
Turning away, I book it up the stairs, searching out his bedroom. I try the first door on my left and… jackpot. The first side of the room is clearly April’s, with the purple floral bedding and the stack of books on the nightstand. I bypass her half, moving over to Oakley’s. It’s pretty sparse, no knickknacks or posters filling the walls. But, the smell? That’s all him. I have to physically restrain myself from picking up his pillow and sniffing it. I know I’m a little obsessed with the guy, but that’s a bit creepy, even for my standards.
Remembering what he told me, I move to the closet, easily finding the loose floorboard. But when I get it up, there’s nothing beneath it. I grab my phone and shine the torch there, cursing when I still can’t see anything. Goddammit.
The journal’s not here. The one thing that’s given me any semblance of hope in the last few days, and it’s not fucking here.
I search everywhere, hoping and praying that maybe Oakley misplaced it. I look under his mattress, rummage through his dresser, double check April’s side of the room. I even check Chief Farrow’s bedroom, thinking that he could have found it and hid it. And when I come up empty upstairs, I try downstairs. I look beneath the couch cushions, open every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen, rifle through the coat closet.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I’ve failed again.
I’m right back where I started, with not a single idea on how to help Oakley or get us out of this mess.
* * *
Defeated, I return home, slamming the front door shut behind me. I toss my keys down, cursing when they fall straight to the floor.
Dad rounds the corner, stopping when he sees me, his brows shooting up to his hairline. “Well, you look happy.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m just swell,” I quip, tone thick with sarcasm.
“Where’ve you been?”
Shit. I rub a hand over the back of my neck, sputtering as I try to come up with a lie. “I was, uh… I—”
He holds up a hand, putting an end to the torture. “I know about the suspension. Principal Fischer called me after you left, told me what happened. If it makes you feel any better, I chewed him out over the phone for it, too. Even threatened to sue.”
My eyes bulge. “You did?”
“You’re goddamn right I did. So, now we’ve cleared up where you weren’t, are you gonna tell me where you were?”
I swallow, duck my head. “The hospital.”
“Asher,” he sighs. “We’ve already been over this. It’s not a good idea.”
“I know, I know.” I slump down on the bottom step of the staircase, head in my hands. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just… not seeing him? It’s killing me. I had to go.”
He blows out a breath before sitting down beside me. “I get it. Trust me, I do.”
That makes me look up. “Really?”
“Yes. You want to be there for him, to protect him. Do you really think in all the time your mom’s been living at that facility, I haven’t been there to check on her?”
“She never mentioned it.”
He shrugs. “She doesn’t know. I never stayed long. Just enough to catch a glimpse of her, make sure she was doing okay.”
I’m… speechless. Jesus, I really thought he didn’t care. What else have I been wrong about?
“The problem is,” he continues, “that you being there, it doesn’t look good for your case. Not at all. Really, you need to distance yourself from Oakley as much as possible.”
“Distance myself from— No. There’s no way. I can’t do that. You just said that you understand. How can you ask me to do that?”
“Relax, son,” he urges, resting a hand on my arm. “I do understand. I promise you, I do. I’m only relaying the advice from my lawyer.”
“L-lawyer?” I choke out.
“Yes. I spoke with him earlier. About… everything. He made some calls and let me know that Chief Farrow’s moving ahead with the charges against you. He’s pushing for a trial date as we speak.”
A golf ball sized lump lodges itself in my throat and I tip my head back, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Holy shit. This is really happening. I’m going to jail for something I didn’t do. I’ve lost Oakley forever. My whole world is imploding, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
Obviously sensing my despair, his grip on my arm tightens. “We’ll keep fighting, Asher. We won’t ever stop.”
“But, what’s the point?” I launch to my feet, hands fisted in my hair. “It doesn’t matter now. This is never going away. He’s gonna win.”
“No, he’s not. The case isn’t all my lawyer’s been looking into for me. He’s been doing some digging, got a few leads to follow up on. He managed to get in contact with the police department from the town where Oakley’s parents were killed. It took some convincing but they’re finally looking into it. Checking traffic cameras, going over the crime scene photos. And soon… they’re gonna find something. Something that links him to their murder. After that, it’ll be all too easy to prove your innocence. It’ll be over, Asher. For good.”
I want to believe that. I really, really do. To trust his word, to feel some relief. But, I can’t. It sounds too easy, too simple.
This won’t be over until Chief Farrow’s taken absolutely everything from me, leaving me as nothing but a broken shell of a person.
The trouble is, I don’t know how much more I have left to give.