The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood 1)

And since then, something’s happened to not only him but all the Marks’ men. After Shannon’s death, everything changed. Tyler and I, we always told each other everything. No secrets. Since we were scribbling with chalk on our driveways and eating dirt just to see what it tasted like, we shared it all.

But Tyler was keeping something from me. I could sense it. Something that had to do with his mother’s death. I never pried, though, because losing her was the worst thing that ever happened to Tyler. A darkness entered him after the night Holden picked up their mother from a restaurant and she never made it home. Tyler never got past it. Neither did Mr. Marks.

He never forgave Holden. Even though the police report stated Holden’s blood alcohol level was well below the legal limit, and he was never convicted, Mr. Marks disowned his son, forbidding Tyler to contact him.

Tyler was meeting Holden in secret the night he was hit by that car. Holden’s birthday had been the week before; he’d turned twenty-three. Tyler said his brother was only back for a night, just long enough for them to celebrate. Before that, they hadn’t seen each other in just over six months. As hurt and as angry as Mr. Marks was, I was shocked he wouldn’t allow his son to attend his own mother’s funeral.

So I can’t help my overactive brain being suspicious. The fact that both Shannon’s and Tyler’s deaths involved Holden in some way makes me nervous to be around him despite our past. I’m not sure what to say, or how to act. I’m the only one who knows Holden was in town to meet Tyler. I never told that to the police officer who questioned me. I didn’t want to upset their father more. But now, being so close to him and my nerves on edge, I question whether I should have.

Only . . . I guess at the time, I was battling with myself. Wondering if reporting it would’ve been some form of revenge on Holden. Our secrets and past are too sordid, confusing the shit out me even now. I didn’t want that on my conscience. And I didn’t want to betray Tyler’s trust.

But it seems my conscience is heavy with doubt and guilt no matter what.

I pluck a long blade of grass from the earth and begin weaving it into a braid with the other two in my hands. Not looking at Holden, I ignore his comment about college and ask, “Where are you staying?” I know it’s not at his father’s house.

He settles on the bank a few feet from me. Out of my peripheral, I take in his long legs covered by dark jeans. Black Dr. Martens, gray thermal, and the black and blue tattoo banded around his wrist. “At a motel. Island Getaway Inn, or something like that.”

I nod slowly, and the silence stretches out like the pond before us. If he thinks he’s obligated to check up on me, then I should relieve him of that responsibility right now. Of all the times Tyler’s come to me, he’s never mentioned his brother. “If you’re in town because of me . . .” I trail off, searching for the right words. “For Tyler. I’m fine, Holden. I know you don’t want to be here, so you can go back to your life. Mine’s all right, okay?”

I can feel his gaze on me. “I’m here checking up on the status of the case.” I do turn to look at him now. “But yeah, I did want to see how you were doing.”

“Do they have any leads?” I ask.

Holden’s dark hair is strategically messy, one side of his nearly black bangs falling alongside his light blue eyes. He still has a lip ring, a silver circular barbell, and he works it between his teeth. He holds my gaze and doesn’t look away. I’m the first to break the staring contest when he finally says, “Nothing new. But I want to keep on them, or else they’ll drop the search soon.”

“They make phones for that.” I hear the venom in my voice.

“Yeah, but it’s easy to dismiss someone over the phone.”

I swallow hard, thinking of all the times I had my mother make an excuse for why I couldn’t take his calls. He has to understand just how hard this is for me. How difficult it is not only dealing with his brother’s death, but the fact that we have a history—a messed up history. It’s just awkward to be near him.

He releases a heavy breath. “You still don’t remember if Tyler said anything else that night?”

I shake my head. “Just that he was going to see you. But, maybe you should tell that info to the police.”

My stomach quivers as Holden’s face goes as pale as his eyes. “Have you told anyone that?”

“No,” I say, making my voice hold strong despite the tremble in my body. “No, I haven’t. Tyler didn’t want your dad to know he was seeing you, that he was going against him.”

With a forced exhale, Holden runs a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not sure how angry that’d make him.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want to see my brother’s memory possibly disgraced because of me.”

I know he’s right, and i

t’s why—even against my better judgment—I’ve never told anyone. For Tyler. I’m not doing anything for Holden. I feel a tickle on my arm and look down to swipe a mosquito away. “Look—”

“Sam—”

We both stop talking. I fan my hand, prompting him to go first.

“I know we weren’t as close growing up as you and my brother,” he says, and a pang hits my chest. “But I’d like to think we were still friends . . . on some level. I have to make sure that you’re okay. That you get the help you need.”

Embarrassed anger rises up within me. Has my mother told him about my doctor visits? About my “major depression with psychotic features?” I don’t think I could handle him knowing. “I just need time alone, Holden. I’m not your responsibility.”

“Yeah, you kind of are.” My head snaps around, and he’s standing up, then stepping closer to me. “After our mother died”—pain flashes across his face—“Tyler made me promise to watch out for you, if anything should ever happen to him. A death makes people think of their own, and he loved you more than anyone. I promised him.”

I stand and brush loose grass from my backside, keeping my sight on the pond. I’m sure Tyler wouldn’t have asked that of him had he known the truth. “Just find whoever hit Tyler, Holden. If you’re really here to help the police with their investigation, then help them. I’ve told you everything I know, and now I want to be left alone.”

I spin, but his hand grasps my wrist, halting me. He immediately releases it, and his hand clenches into a fist. “When did you get that?” He nods at the tattoo on my wrist.