19. Lachlan
19
Lachlan
Friday Evening
I carried the cardboard box up the stairs and to the room on the left, where Nolan was waiting. When Bailey had dropped me off after school, I’d had no plans for the evening, but that was an issue. It had taken everything in me to hold back. I didn’t know why I’d pressed her up against the truck, but I knew I needed to cool down. I was either going to make her tell me the fucker’s name and where he was, so I could hunt him down and slit his throat, or I was going to kiss her.
I did the only sensible thing—I smoked a bud to calm down, then walked to Nolan’s.
“This is the last of the ones marked for your room,” I told him.
Nolan was sitting on the floor, looking at a picture with a frown. We had spent most of the evening unpacking the moving truck while his dad directed other movers to set up exercise equipment in the garage. The condo was small, only a two bedroom, and the garage was the only place large enough for all of it. No wonder Nolan was so ripped; he practically had a gym in his house.
“Hmm? Oh, thanks.” He set the framed picture on his nightstand, and my eyes caught it. Twins. Nolan…was a twin. The two boys in the picture were identical, one sporting the haircut Nolan had now, and the other had longer, shaggy hair, pushing it out of his face so he could see the camera. At first, I thought it was Nolan with the clean-cut hair, but I was wrong—it was his twin. Nolan didn’t smile like that, like prince fucking charming. No, Nolan smiled when forced and when necessary. Nolan’s real smile was small, and when he did smile big, he was awkward as hell. I only saw his real smile when we were around Bailey.
I didn’t ask questions. Didn’t allow my eyes to linger too long on the picture. I had just finished unpacking their truck from the move, and nowhere were there signs of a brother or a mother. Perhaps they split, and each parent got a kid. That’s what I hoped, anyway.
“Need help unpacking?” I asked.
“No, I’ll do it later. Let’s go check out the neighborhood. I didn’t get a chance to see much when we were looking at places.”
I followed him out the door and down the stairs. The condo was so small, we were outside in front of the garage in a few steps. “I know a great ice cream joint, but we’ll have to swing by the store and pick up my sister. If I get ice cream without her, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Ice cream?” A voice beside me caused me to jump.
Fucking shit, I hated when people did that. I instantly took a step back, relaxing only slightly when I realized it was Nolan’s dad. He had given me a quick hello earlier but wasn’t too friendly. I figured it was just his personality; he’d been that way through the summer practices as well.
The garage was nearly set up into a full-on gym. They could probably open it up and charge memberships to locals. Nolan’s motorcycle sat pushed to one side.
Nolan’s father, Rob, stood a bit taller, and at the same time, Nolan shuffled to face him, stepping behind me just enough that I noticed. Instantly, I was on alert. “I probably won't get any, I’m not much of a fan. Just going for a walk, checking out some jogging spots,” I told Rob.
He nodded and pulled out his phone. “There’s a trail that goes through town and makes a loop around the creek.”
“River. It’s low now, but after winter or a few rains, it gets deep,” I explained. “That’s Travelers’ Loop. We call it that because a few out-of-towners come in just to run it. It’s thirty kilometers, but there's a spot we call pivot point at halfway.” Most joggers turned back around that point, since the hills were killer.
Rob nodded, satisfied with my answer, then turned to Nolan. “Why don’t you stay here? We’ll head out shortly. We can get two passes in before midnight.”
What the fuck? Was he serious? A sixty-kilometer jog through Travelers’ Loop, in the dark?
Rob looked past us at the moving truck as the movers began closing the back door. “Say goodbye to your teammate, Nolan.” He left us and walked toward the movers.
I turned back to Nolan, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a joke, right? My friend broke his ankle on Travelers’ Loop. There's no way you can navigate it in the dark.”
Nolan sighed. “We’ll probably finish the first run before nightfall.”
I shook my head. “Can you just tell him no?”
“It’s not bad. I mean, we didn’t have practice today. So, that’s likely why we’re going so long. I don’t normally run that long or this late. It’s just the missed practice.”
“You said that.” Damn. I didn’t feel right leaving him. “Through the park, the trail is a breeze, most of it is paved. But when you get to the woods, pace yourself. At the bottom of the second hill, there’s a dip that causes nearly everyone to trip.”
“Do you run the trail often?” he asked, his face contemplative, as though he was storing away the information I had just given him.
“Yeah, I mean, no, not anymore. My friends and I used to go there when we were younger. I should go. Just don’t die, okay?” I turned to leave, but Nolan reached out and grabbed my arm.
I waited. Waited for the sickly dark feeling to slither its way into my skin, down my spine. Waited for my stomach to flip inside out on the verge of tossing all its contents. But it didn’t… I didn’t. Instead, the warmth from his hand soothed over the shaking within me. It calmed the darkness in a way only one person in my life had ever been able to do.
“How is she?” Nolan asked. “Bailey, I mean.” He dropped his hand and stepped closer to me. Had he known I’d been thinking of her? “She’s pretty amazing during practice, she has moments you can see she’s fighting something in class, but that thing with Chase earlier…is that normal? She went from being freaked out to a practical robot. If she smiles like that again, we might need to baptize her.”
He joked, but he was right. Over the last few years, Bailey had been quiet and timid, but I’d never seen her fall into submission like her life depended on it. Then again, she hadn’t interacted with others like she had since school started. It was as if the return to society had brought out something inside of her. She was hurt. We all were, in our own ways. My eyes roamed over the equipment in the garage, Rob’s actions now shining a different light on them. Not a gym, a torture room. My eyes shifted back to Nolan. A chiseled body sculpted into perfection by sharp tools.
“I think it’s a vise. A way of protecting whatever is bothering her.” I decided to tell him what I thought, because Nolan was one of us. Whether Bailey and I were creating a new group or reviving our group with another addition, I didn’t care. But Nolan was going to be part of that group; he was hurting just as much as we were. And it was my first declaration…there would be no secrets.
Nolan’s eyes widened briefly before he frowned, standing straighter. “Someone is bothering her? Who?” he demanded.
Yeah, he was one of us, all right.
Rob walked back in that moment. “Get your shoes on,” he told Nolan. “See you at practice, O'Riley,” he slung at me.
I nodded, taking my cue. “I’ll call you later,” I told Nolan before I left, but I wasn’t sure when later would be. He was starting a sixty-kilometer jog now? The guy was going to be exhausted by the time he was done.
On my walk back to the store, I lit a blunt and did my best to chill my runaway thoughts. They were mine. How fucked up was that line of thinking? Oh, but I felt it so deeply. The moment Nolan took that small half step and placed me between him and his father, I knew he was mine. On what level? I wasn’t sure. Bailey had always been mine. I’d given her space, and fuck my life if that hadn’t been the worst damn decision ever. Never . I would never forgive myself. I only prayed she’d forgive me. Right here and now, I vowed that she would never have to worry about her ex—about anyone hurting her—again.
They were mine. I protected what was mine, no matter the consequences. I sipped on the blunt again, needing to clear the thoughts swirling around. The ones that told me to slit Rob’s throat. The thoughts that promised how good it would feel to string him up to one of his machines as I dropped a weight on his hand, breaking the bones—no. Not the whole hand, just one finger at a time. Pumping music through the speakers to drown the sweet sound of his screams so the neighbors wouldn’t question.
Fuck. I took another drag, pulling it deep into my lungs, begging it to kick in quick. I had to learn more about Nolan’s relationship with his father first. Being thrown for another round of jail would be fine—hell, give me ten, twenty, life. At least what was mine would be safe.
But I don’t hurt what’s mine. I had to be sure getting rid of Rob wasn’t going to hurt Nolan—
Fuck! This damn mind. Here I was, full on planning a murder. So messed up. I kicked at a stone on the sidewalk.
Bailey, on the other hand. That fucker who hurt her had to die. I would bleed him dry for harming her. I didn’t know exactly what he’d done, but my mind was going mad with different scenarios. Why the fuck did she feel the need to submit?
As soon as I’d walked into my room after she dropped me off earlier that afternoon, I got on my computer and began looking up her father’s farm page. The McCormicks supplied most of the co-op supply chains, so they had a business website. I knew I was looking for a farm hand; it had to be a farm hand, since she had called him a cowboy. The moment I heard that word, I began obsessing over it. A cowboy. Not boy. Not a guy. A fucking cowboy, a fucking man . I read between the lines and pulled out all I needed to understand this fucker had no right being around a fourteen-year-old.
There was nothing. A few pictures of the farms and an apply now page, but no meet our team page like I had hoped.
I shouldn’t have left her. We shouldn’t have left her.
As I took another toke, my shoulders sagged. I rolled the tension out of them, letting the darkness ebb. I knew I had a dopey smile on my face as I thought about Bailey.
I walked into the store, ignoring the closed sign. My mother kept her eyes on the computer in front of her, her blonde hair pulled back into a bun as she concentrated. My father was counting out the cash register and looked up briefly as I entered. Gracie looked so much like him.
“Lock the door,” he said.
I turned around and flipped the lock, then walked by the front desk. Since our house was attached to the storefront, passing through the back door led into the back of our garage.
“Lachlan,” my mom whispered, holding out her hand, as if to touch my arm, but stopping and pulling back. It was something she did often. She wanted so desperately to reach out to me, but she didn’t know how. I understood. She knew the truth, not only about Claire, but also what happened in juvie. Though she’d witnessed the panic attacks, she’d only read reports on the fits of rage. On how many times I’d lost it whenever an inmate touched me, even slightly. She often moved to touch me, hug me, as she used to do. A mother to a son. Only, now she wasn’t sure how much of her son was left. “How was school?” she asked, her voice timid.
“Good, Mom.”
Her eyes searched my face before she nodded. “Gracie has friends over. Can you…” She struggled.
“Not let them see me high?” I deadpanned. “Hide away in my room, as if I don’t exist?” Some of Gracie’s friends weren’t even allowed at our house. My earlier smile disappeared as coldness seeped in.
Mom hated me. Hated what her child had become. If only she knew how dark the thoughts got without the substance she hated oh so much. Then she would realize I would’ve never been like them. Never soft and gentle like her and Gracie, not as obedient and strong as my older brother, never chivalrous and honorable like my father. I was the opposite of them all.
My mother winced and looked away from me, not able to meet my eyes any longer. “I’ll stay in my room.”
She didn’t try to stop me, correct me, or call out to me as I left. I was okay with that. I had made peace with the fact I was someone neither of my parents wanted me to become. I understood that some people would only ever know half my story and despise me for it.
On my way to my room, I stopped in the kitchen and quickly grabbed a couple snacks and a drink, avoiding running into any of my sister’s little friends. When I got to my room, though, I threw everything onto the bed and pulled a small black box out from under it.
It was my stash. I unlocked it and began rolling another joint. I didn’t need it right now, still riding the gentle high from the one I had just finished, but I was getting it ready. It was the weekend, and I was going to toe that fine line between utterly baked and somewhat functional.
I could hear my therapist's voice as I rolled. Make sure, after you do your coping strategy, take a pause and think about what has set you off.
I shook my head. “So much shit,” I told my freshly rolled joint.
So much was going on. I had a fear of loss. Loss of myself if I let the darkness within take over. Also, loss of others. I had only just gotten Bailey back. She was so different and yet so familiar and so lost, I had the urge to protect her. That need to protect particularly brought out my darkness.
I used to think of the darkness as self-preservation. A coping strategy my mind developed as a need to protect myself from the trauma I had endured. But then…I felt it today with Bailey, and again with Nolan. That fear of losing them, of them being injured, rolling into the need to protect them.
I smoked to silence the darkness because, at times, the voice of the Dark was manic and unhinged. I smoked to calm him, scared if I didn’t control those voices, eventually, they would sound like logic…and it was hard to argue with logic.
I pulled my phone out and went to Bailey’s contact. I had a picture of her laughing with Nolan. Those two. They did something to me.
What if that guy, the cowboy, she talked about was still there? What if he lurked outside her bedroom window, watching? Waiting?
Lachlan: Hey.
The little icon showed that the message was delivered but not read. I let the smoke out slowly and sank back down into my chair. I itched to talk to someone. I needed a distraction before this turned into an obsession.
Bailey wasn’t responding, and Nolan was running. There was only one other option.
I rolled over to my computer, shaking the mouse and waking the screen up. The RPG game I played with Chase was already up and loaded. Chase didn’t know it was me he played against, but when I saw his screen name—a name he used for all his games since we were kids—and heard his voice, I knew right away it was my best friend. So many times over the years, I had come close to telling him, but it had gone on for so long, I didn’t think I could ever come clean. This was the only way I could be a part of his life, so I had to take it.
He was currently offline, but I opened the chat, anyway, and sent him a message. Online, need to blow off some steam. I knew the chat message would go to his phone.
As I waited, I added a couple upgrades to my character and searched for a quest. It wasn’t too long before Chase, or rather GreySeeker, replied to me. I’m in, be there in ten.
It was less than ten when I got the notification he had logged on.
“Hey, GreySeeker,” I said into the mic.
“Hey. Where are we going today? I need the fuck out of here.”
Maybe it was the weed, maybe not, but the moment I heard Chase’s voice, I felt my body sink into my chair. “Oh, you too? What were you doing?”
There was a pause before he said, “Swimming.”
I teleported to Chase’s character online, and it wasn’t long before the two of us settled into a quest and fell into our normal banter.
Two quests and many hours later, I leaned back and stretched. My phone pinged, and I looked to see Bailey had texted back. It was nearly one a.m.
Bailey: Hey.
“You still there?” Chase asked.
“Yeah, I’m here. Remember the friend I told you about before?”
“Which one, the silent asshole or the girl you were making up with?”
Oh yeah, I forgot I had vented to him about Ethan. Even though Chase didn’t know who I was—for all he knew, I could be on the other side of the world—I remained vague about my personal life. I didn’t want to give myself away. “The second. Seems she may have an ex bothering her.”
“What?” He seemed pissed, though I wasn’t sure why. I narrowed my eyes at the computer. No…he didn’t know who I was. If he did, he would’ve chewed me out, the same way he did Bailey in the parking lot. Chase can’t stay quiet worth shit. “Bothering her how?”
I shrugged but knew he wouldn’t have seen it. “She didn’t go into details.”
“Ask her.” Chase was impatient.
“There’s a thing called boundaries. And she drew them today—no talking about the cowboy.”
“Cowboy?”
“Never mind.” I typed out a message to Bailey and sent it.
“Are you talking to her right now?”
I chuckled.
“Tell her to tell you his name, and we will make him disappear.”
“And how do you propose you do that? You don’t know where we are.”
There was a curse.
I sighed. “Enough about this. I needed to get this out of my mind.” I lit my joint, opening my window to allow the smoke to drift away.
“Right, fine. There’s a horde of—”
My phone pinged, and then there was silence. I flipped it over and read her message.
Bailey: I’m okay.
I thought about what to say or how to approach while still respecting the boundaries, but Chase wasn’t having the silence. “What’d she say?”
I rolled my eyes. “What makes you think I’m talking to her?”
“Oh.” His character moved around a bit, then stopped. “But…it was her, right?”
“Yes. She said she’s okay.”
“Ugh, girls say that when they aren’t. Just make sure she knows she can go to you. You know…if that guy is still bugging her.”
I raised an eyebrow at that, then baited him. “Who cares? She’s just some chick. If she keeps going to him, I’m not stopping her.” I wished she would go to him, lead me to him, so I could slit his—
Shit. I grabbed my forgotten joint and took another toke, pulling it deep until the thoughts became a fog.
Chase was silent for a moment, his character in the game going into a tavern. I followed him in. “You're probably right.” His voice seemed strained. “There’s a horde of goblins in the north rings. We should wipe them out and collect their loot.”
We played in silence, more than usual. “You good?” I asked after we had slayed the last of the goblins.
“Yeah. Fuck it. Step up.”
“What?”
“Man, I get we only know each other online, but if your friend has a problem, you gotta be there. Don’t… Don’t…” He cleared his throat. “Eventually, it will be too late. Don’t let it be too late.” What did he mean by that? “I gotta go. Meet you tomorrow night,” he quickly said before signing off. It was how he always said goodbye— meet you tomorrow —but this time, it was heavy. He was bothered.
Did he think it was too late for him? An ache settled in my rib cage, right under my sternum. If only Chase knew who he was talking to. If only he knew who I was talking about. It blew my mind that this guy was more of a brother than my biological brother had been.
Was it too late for all of us, or was this his declaration of regret?