The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood 1)

I pinch my lips together, inwardly cursing. Then, as I look back over the racetrack, I say, “Redemption.”

She doesn’t press, and I’m thankful. She’d get an earful of silence from me, anyway. But she lets me have my secret, for whatever reason, and I let her have her fantasy. We’re both fucked up in different ways, but we agree to accept that. No more questions asked.

SAM

I knew the bottom would fall out. Eventually. And I want to believe this is the worst of it—that this morning in the hotel room was the inevitable fallout Holden and I have been skirting since high school.

But as bad as it was seeing him lose his temper, and as hurtful as it was hearing what he truly thinks of me (now added to the list right under: see what it’d be like to fuck you), I can’t believe this was the bottom. Oh, the bottom fell out beneath us, all right, but we haven’t hit bottom yet.

I’m terrified to find out how far our bottom goes.

I glance at him from out of the corner of my eye. He’s focused on the road, his gaze straight ahead. His teeth drag over his lip ring, as if he’s deep in thought. He let the subject of my psychosis drop at the speedway. Which is good, because I’m not going to argue with him. I don’t care whether he believes me or not. Truthfully, I was hoping to avoid discussing it at all. Despite my feelings toward Holden, I don’t want to hurt him. Not by using Tyler, anyway.

I can imagine if it were the other way around, and he was trying to convince me that Tyler was stuck on this plane. I’d be angry and resentful and feel gutted.

But there was no way, with the amount of time we have to spend together, that he wasn’t going to witness something. It was inevitable. And I could curse myself for getting drunk, but really, letting go felt good. I won’t punish myself for it.

I wanted to trust he was trying to respect my privacy by not bringing it up before, because I knew he had to have heard something. There’s no privacy on the island; everyone talks. But really, I’m sure he just doesn’t want to deal with it. Who would? My own father keeps skipping town so he doesn’t have to.

Besides, I don’t need Holden’s approval. Couldn’t care less. And he has his own reason for doing this trip. Fine. I’m just angry with myself for ever believing that he forced his way into coming because he was actually worried about me. I should’ve known he had his own agenda.

But the truth (most of it) is out now. We’re tolerating each other for Tyler. I almost laugh out loud. It’s like the past all over again. Me being at their house for holidays before Holden left after his graduation, and us uncomfortably smiling and making small talk, all for Tyler.

Only now, I have an inside glimpse into what the two guys in my life were going through during that time. I have the answers to secrets I never even knew existed, but could always sense were there. And it might be wrong to dive into that rabbit hole (Alice didn’t come out unscathed), but it’s now a compulsion. I

have to. No matter the outcome.

With Tyler’s permission, at least, I don’t feel as deceitful. Just slightly less slimy. I only wish Holden would trust me. Would trust that I’d never betray Tyler by revealing anything. I’d never tell anyone. Even though I think Holden should do or say something about his father, it’s his place. Not mine.

Tyler can no longer speak up for himself. He needs someone to talk for him. And his brother should be that person.

That’s a whole other argument, though. And I’m choosing my battles. For now.

Sinking into my seat, I pull my paperback higher. I’m still invested in finding any shred of evidence that could help Tyler’s case. If it’s the only thing I can offer Holden once this disaster of a trip ends, then I’ll wade through the dark waters to find it. Tyler deserves at least that.

After a while, Holden groans and shakes his head, interrupting my reading. “What?” I sit up. “If you hate this band so much, why do you have their album?” I mark my place in the journal and flip it and the paperback closed. Then I reach to change the disc.

“No. Hollywood Undead is fine. One of my favorites,” he says, and I instead turn the volume down. “But even they can’t keep me awake at this point.” He checks the time on the dash. He’s been driving nearly two hours, half the distance to our next destination. Memphis, Tennessee.

“You drove, like, three times this long yesterday,” I say. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” He widens his eyes, blinks, and I can see the irritated red crowding the white from here.

It’s my fault, I realize. After my blurt last night, he must have sat up worrying over who I might tell, or who I might’ve already told. Guilt kicks me in the gut.

I open my mouth to offer to drive, and shut it. I’m no good for driving on this trip. Biting down on my lip, I fall back into the seat. I hear Holden groan again, deep and rumbling from the back of his throat. “Shit, okay. You’re not doing so hot. Why don’t we pull over in the next town so you can rest? Maybe we can go ahead and pick up something to eat, too.”

He rubs his forehead in thought. “Like a picnic?”

I nearly laugh. The thought of Holden and me having a sweet picnic is that messed up. “Sure,” I say. “Why not.”

We take the next exit and head toward downtown Fulton, Mississippi. Which, as I’m looking around, consists of one main road. Old brick homes litter one side of the street, while small businesses line the other. We pass a couple of motels, and Holden pulls into a McDonalds.

“This all right with you?” he asks.

“It’s fine. I didn’t really see anything else.”

“We could keep going. Look around.”