Chapter 12
Blake
I pull back from the hug, releasing David and taking a good look at him. He seems thinner than before, more worn out. But it’s not just that. There’s an agitation in his eyes, his movements, that sets off alarms in my head, making me worry he might be using again.
“David, this is Ethan and his dog, Bandit.” I take a small step back, angling myself toward Ethan. Bandit looks wary but doesn’t growl, his eyes locked on David.
“Hey,” David mutters, barely looking at Ethan as he shifts nervously from one foot to the other. His dark hair looks unwashed, the circles under his eyes etched more deeply than last time I saw him.
“Hi,” Ethan replies. His jaw is locked as he stares at David, then at me, no doubt wondering what the hell is going on.
For a moment the three of us just stand there on the empty boardwalk under the brilliant night sky, the strobe of the alarm light setting everything on fire every few seconds. Then I grab my keys and move to the door, fumbling slightly as I unlock it and push inside to turn off the alarm.
Quickly entering the code into the keypad, before the boardwalk outside goes dark. I find Ethan and David where I left them, Ethan’s eyes flicking between us, assessing the situation, David picking at the skin on his forearm, gaze shifting over my face and at something unseen behind me.
A restless silence settles over us, one that seems to reverberate with hidden tension. The gentle lapping of waves against the dock seems to grow louder, mingling with the faint creaking of boats and the distant call of seagulls.
A swallow forced over the dry of my throat. “You can head home, Ethan. I’ll walk home from here. Thanks for the ride. And for dinner.” I try to sound casual but my concern must be showing.
“No way.” Ethan flatly refuses, shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you alone this late at night.”
He glances at David, making all the words he didn’t say perfectly clear.
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “If you want privacy, I’ll stay outside with Bandit.” He pulls out his vape with a defiant look, then takes a slow drag, the soft glow of the device illuminating his handsome face in the dark.
I glance at David, whose agitation seems to be growing by the second. “Come inside, both of you.” I’d rather Ethan wasn’t here, but it’s pretty clear he’s not going anywhere.
Ethan takes another drag from his vape before following us in. Tension rolls off him, but thankfully he keeps it in check. Inside, the bar’s familiar scent of wood and the remnants of beer is comforting in its own way.
“David, sit down.” I guide him to one of the wooden bar stools and then turn on the light over the bar, blinking against the white brightness that shines directly overhead, an oval of light in the darkness. He sits, still twitchy, eyes darting around the room. I turn to Ethan, who’s watching us closely, Bandit sitting obediently by his feet.
“Ethan, you too.” I motion to a table against the wall, as far away as possible from where I’ve sat David. I walk beside him and wait as he takes a seat, his gaze never leaving David.
“What’s going on, Blake?”
A brief pause, gathering my thoughts as Bandit settles on the ground at Ethan’s feet. “David’s an old friend. Just give me a chance to work out what’s going on.”
He looks at me for a long time, like he’s really seeing me, all of me, and it’s disconcerting. “Take your time,” he finally says. “I’ll be right here.”
He sits upright in his chair, all broad shoulders and strong frame, almost possessive in his unyielding promise of support. His silent strength radiates through the room, while the dim light casts shadows across his face.
I wish he wasn’t here, complicating things with his stubborn protectiveness, but there’s something about his presence that steadies me, grounding me in a way I can’t quite explain. Walking back to David at the bar, his eyes darting nervously around the room, I settle on the barstool beside him.
For a few seconds, our shared past looms between us. The impossible pain of losing our birth families, the ones who were supposed to love and protect us, seared deep in our souls, the belongings stuffed into plastic bags as we were shuffled from one foster home to another. The feeling that there was no one in our corner, not a single person we could rely on not to leave.
It’s a mark we both wear, the deep-seated knowledge that we never really belonged, that unconditional love was something foreign to us. The weight of those years lingers. It’s a part of us, an invisible scar that binds us together.
Reaching out, squeezing David’s hand. “Hey, do you want some juice or water?”
He looks up at me, eyes bloodshot and unfocused. “Water, I guess.” He scratches his arm again, filthy nails digging into healing scabs.
Did I play a part in this? Did I get him using again because I didn’t support him properly when he came to me about Sylvia? Resolve to help him no matter what builds inside.
I go behind the bar, grab a glass and fill it with water, before handing it to him. “I’ve been trying to call you. But you haven’t called me back.”
He looks at the bottles of liquor stacked against the far wall. “I’ve been busy.”
“David,” I say, my voice softer now so Ethan can’t hear. “Are you using again? Drinking? Because we can get through this.”
His reaction is immediate. His eyes flare with anger, and he slams the glass down, water sloshing over the sides, running in a sad river over the smooth wood of the bar. “Why are you assuming the worst in me?” His voice is rising. “I just want you to remember about the locked room and you’re fixated on everything I’m doing wrong!”
He stands abruptly, the stool toppling over, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. My heart races, but before I can react, Ethan is there. He positions himself between us, his gaze locked on David, muscles tense and ready. Bandit is at his side, a low growl rumbling from his throat.
“Calm down, man.” Ethan’s voice is controlled but tension radiates through him.
I’m horrified that Ethan’s even here at all. He has no idea I was in foster care, and now he’s seeing this—my past laid bare in the most chaotic way possible. To make things worse, I don’t know what to do to deescalate the situation. David’s agitation, Ethan’s protectiveness—it’s a volatile cocktail.
My instinct is to try to reach Ethan first, get him to back off so I can get through to David, get him the help he needs before he disappears again.
“It’s okay.” My soothing hand rests on the tense of Ethan’s forearm. “I can handle this.”
But Ethan doesn’t move, my past facing off against my present. “Blake, he’s not in the right state of mind. He needs to leave or calm down.”
David’s hands shake as he glares at Ethan. The soft brown of his eyes are filled with so much hurt, so much torment. “I’m not crazy. I just need her to remember!”
“David, please,” I say gently, stepping around Ethan. “I want to help you. Let’s have a drink of water and I can fix you something to eat if you’re hungry.”
His eyes flicker with both desperation and frustration. “The locked room,” he says, his voice breaking. “You have to remember what she did to you in there.”
I glance at Ethan, who gives me a slight nod, as though indicating he’s got my back. A deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “Okay. We’ll talk about the locked room. Just sit down, please. Some food and water will help, I promise.”
“So you remember?”
I go quiet. David stares at me for a long moment as the silence stretches. My mind races with what to say next—he’s a man in every respect, but all I can see is that skinny ten-year-old who vowed to stay by my side, to protect me. I shrug and shake my head, a gesture so slight I’m ninety-percent sure no one saw it.
But before I can think of something to reassure him, through his drug-addled haze, he sees the truth: I don’t remember. The anger in his eyes dims to a dull ache.
I reach out a hand, trying to take David’s in my own, but just as my fingers skim his, he yanks his hand out of reach, a look on his face like he’s been burned.
Then he spins and turns, tripping over a chair before righting himself and sprinting out of the Tavern.