Thornbird

Chapter Thirty-Three The Right Place

thirty-three

The Right Place

Without thinking twice, I break away from the group and splash into the shallow water, ignoring the way it soaks through my shoes. I’m driven by panic, not reason, as I wade into the lake without hesitation.

“Ryan!” I hear someone shout.

Cold water swirls around my ankles, my knees, my thighs, but still I slosh forward. “Something’s out here!” I shout back to whoever is listening. “I think it’s a body!”

There’s a commotion behind me. Footsteps. Shouts.

“Ryan!” It’s Jasmine.

Water slaps at my waist. I push forward, half-wading, half-swimming toward the floating figure.

I reach it just as a hand grabs my shoulder, yanking me backward. It’s Everett, his eyes wild with concern.

“What are you doing!” he yells at me.

“There’s a body! Look, it’s right—”

It’s a log.

All the air rushes out of my lungs.

The “body” is nothing but a large, twisted piece of driftwood tangled with pale weeds. The light brown and yellow strands stretch toward me, floating in the water like long strands of hair.

“I thought…” I trail off. The adrenaline fades, replaced by the sting of embarrassment.

Everett guides me back to the shore. Voices ring out as we stumble onto the sand, both of us soaking wet. My cousin lunges at me.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” she exclaims.

“I’m fine,” I mumble. “I’m sorry. I thought I saw a body in the water.”

Hoots of laughter echo all around us. Kabir ambles toward me, slinging an arm around my shoulder.

“Jesus, Ryan, how much have you had to drink?”

“I…” I can’t seem to catch my breath or rid myself of the panic still hissing through my veins.

I grab for the pendant at my neck, an instinctive gesture, a comfort clutch. But my necklace isn’t there. It hasn’t been there for months. All I find is the wet collar of my shirt.

With a defeated breath, I shove wet hair off my forehead and turn to Everett. “I’m so sorry. You’re all wet now.”

“It’s fine.” He studies me. “You sure you’re okay?”

No.

“Yes. I just feel foolish for freaking out like that.”

“And you say I’m the melodramatic one,” Jasmine huffs, grinning at me.

I try to grin back, but my facial muscles refuse to cooperate.

“I’ve got my gym clothes in my car,” Gillian’s older sister, Kristy, tells me. “You can go change into them if you want. They’re clean.”

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“Car’s unlocked,” she adds. “Gym bag’s in the trunk.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jasmine offers.

I shake my head at her. “No, it’s fine. I wouldn’t mind some privacy so nobody can see me dying of embarrassment.”

Kab snickers, but Connor reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “Honest mistake, cuz. That log really did look menacing.”

A few more titters ring out.

I extricate myself from the group and climb up the slope.

Jasmine and I caught a ride with Kristy and Gillian to the party, so I know where to find their car.

But that’s not where I’m headed. I wait until I’m out of eyeshot before hurrying down the sand.

I don’t even care that my cardigan is waterlogged and my shoes make squishing sounds with each step I take.

Long grass slaps my legs, and something sharp scrapes my arm, but I don’t stop. I run faster down the beach, wishing I could dive back into the water and let the weeds pull me down.

I look around the tall grass to make sure I’m totally alone.

And only then do I let the tears fall.

Maybe I overreacted back there, but at the same time, did I?

This is Starling, after all. My father’s hunting ground.

Would anyone truly be surprised if a body had floated by?

Maybe Ty’s theory about the lake is an accurate one.

Maybe the mud and silt do shift and settle depending on the time of year, dislodging any remains that might be trapped down there.

I wipe away the tears, but my eyelids continue to burn. So many people’s lives have been ruined by my father. It feels like his cancer has infected everyone in this town. It’s my cancer. I have his blood, and if everyone at this party knew who I was, they’d run me out of town.

I hear footsteps, and somehow I’m not surprised to see Chase appear through the grass. In the moonlight, his features look sharper, as if they’ve been carved from stone.

“Are you okay?” he asks gruffly.

I don’t answer for a long time, because anything I say will only be another lie.

“No,” I finally whisper.

When I shiver in my wet clothes, he peels his hoodie off and hands it to me. “Here. Put this on.”

I do. It smells like campfire smoke and the scent of his shampoo.

“Let me take you home.”

Home. Like I have one of those.

“No.”

He sighs. “Vehicle of death?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t care about that. I just don’t want to see my family right now.”

He’s quiet for a moment, gazing out at the dark lake. Then he says, “All right. But you still can’t stay here. It’s freezing out.”

He’s right. I can already feel the chill seeping into my bones. I follow him back to the party, toward the deserted section of grass where his motorcycle sits. I don’t think anyone notices me get on it. They’re all too busy enjoying themselves.

I don’t remember the drive. It doesn’t scare or thrill me like last time. I’m completely numb, I guess. The next thing I know, we’re pulling up to a small bungalow with a red front door and a tidy yard.

He says, “Come on. You can get cleaned up here.”

We go in and he flips on the lights to reveal a spacious hall opening onto a cozy living room. The house is silent as he locks the door behind us.

“Where’s your mom?” I ask.

“She works nights,” he says, leading me toward another hallway in the back of the house. He stops at the linen closet to pull out a few towels. “Bathroom’s on your left if you want to take a shower and warm up. And if you want to give me your clothes, I’ll throw ’em in the dryer.”

I don’t know if he wants me to strip in front of him, so there’s an awkward little dance as I finally move around him and enter the bathroom.

I take a shower and let the hot water fall over me, the events of the past few days finally taking their toll on me.

I keep seeing my mother’s face. I keep hearing her screaming at my father about what she found.

“Why was there blood on those sketchbooks? What have you done, Gabriel! What have you fucking done!”

“Why didn’t you go to the police first?” I growl out loud, the sound muffled by the rushing water.

Why, damn it? Why did she go home first? Why did she book tickets to Allentown rather than go to the sheriff? Why didn’t she tell Gran over the phone what she found in my father’s studio?

The only reason that makes sense to me is that she didn’t truly believe it. At least not yet. Maybe some tiny, hope-filled part of her was desperately trying to convince herself there was a good explanation for everything. Maybe she was afraid to turn him in without knowing for sure.

I wrap an oversized towel around myself and step barefoot into the hall. “Chase?”

“Over here.”

I follow his voice to the small laundry room. He’s standing by the stacked washer and dryer, wearing track pants and no shirt.

Trying not to stare at his chest, I toss my clothes in the dryer. He closes the door and sets it to run, then looks over at me. I pull the towel tighter around my body.

“I can get you a T-shirt, if you want,” he offers.

“I’m good,” I say, because I know the heady smell of his soap and aftershave is probably imprinted on all his shirts.

We walk into the living room, where he lowers himself onto the couch. “Your clothes will be done soon. I can take you home whenever you want.”

“Thanks.”

He moves over, making room for me to sit. The couch is a soft, well-broken-in thing; it practically swallows me. I hold my towel in place, and a strange silence ensues.

So much has happened in such a short time. Only months ago, I was about to start my final year at Liberty High in Allentown, Gran was still alive, and I rarely obsessed about my last name being Thorn.

Now, Gran is dead. I live in Starling and attend a different school. And the name Thorn keeps slapping me in the face everywhere I turn. I’ll never be able to escape it.

The thought triggers another round of tears. Only a couple at first, but then more and more. I know Chase is watching me, but I can’t seem to stop. I bury my face in my hands and stifle a sob.

Chase doesn’t say a word, but he does something unexpected. He pulls me into his arms.

And it feels so nice. Like I’m not so alone.

Everett was always asking if everything was okay. He had to fill every silence. But Chase doesn’t speak. He simply holds me and lets me cry.

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s not because I thought I saw a body in the lake tonight. I just…”

I trail off, and he lets me.

“I want to leave this town too,” I whisper to him. “When we graduate.”

He doesn’t respond, but when I meet his gaze, I see something there. Complete understanding. So I keep talking.

“I hate it here. I love my family, and the people I’ve met, but I feel like their lives were better without me.

I feel like everything I touch turns bad.

I don’t want to be a burden to anyone anymore.

” I swipe at my tears. “And I know you don’t believe me, but I do care about Everett.

Just not in the way he wants me to. And it’s because I care about him that I know I can’t be with him. ”

Chase leans in, so close that I can feel his breath on my skin. “And where do you want to be, Ryan?”

I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that it’s been a long time since I’ve met a guy who makes my heart race like this.

So I do the absolute wrong thing.

I lick my lips.

He notices. Of course he does. We’re mere inches apart.

He studies me as if determining which part of me he wants to devour first. It’s the same look he gave Sofia earlier tonight.

Maybe he’s slept with hundreds of girls, and I’m simply another one on the list. But when he reaches out and brushes a lock of wet hair from my shoulder, his gaze searching mine, I don’t care.

“Chase…”

“Hmm?”

That simple noise, barely a breath, sparks electricity between us. I feel the calluses on his fingertips scrape my bare shoulder. My heart pounds with anticipation. I lick my lips again, and once again he zeroes in on the gesture. His silver eyes blaze with need.

This is really happening.

And I want it to.

He moves even closer, his lips approaching mine, and then he hovers there, giving me a second to say no.

“Just kiss me,” I murmur.

Chase’s mouth finds mine. His lips are warm and unhurried, giving me space to pull back if I want to. But I don’t. I slip my tongue into his mouth and enjoy the sound he makes.

I already established that he kisses nothing like Everett.

He’s hungrier. More insistent. And that’s a good thing.

A very good thing. I can’t get enough. I kiss him harder, deeper, wanting him in my veins.

My heart’s racing at the feel of his bare chest beneath my palms, his hands tangling in my hair.

When he breaks the kiss, we’re both breathless. We stare at each other, the attraction so magnetic I swear I see sparks of electricity between us.

We don’t have to say a word. We’re in perfect sync on this.

Dipping his head lower, he presses a kiss against my neck. He nuzzles his way up my throat and bites gently on my earlobe, then slips his hand inside my towel at the same time he kisses me again.

I didn’t know the answer to his question before.

Now I do.

I want to be here.

For the first time since I came to Tennessee, I feel like I’m in the right place.