When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

James took me home and I dove headfirst into my stash of vodka and didn’t come up for three days. The money still wasn’t there, but River was. Just down the street. I could walk down the hill anytime I wanted, bang on the door, fall at his feet and beg him to forgive me.

Then the accident would screech into my thoughts with screaming tires and shattering glass. His blood, black on the white airbag…

How would I love you sound coming out of my mouth then? Tainted. Bloodstained.

“It’s too late,” I muttered. “The damage has been done.”

And it was irreversible.

Late one night, the vodka told me it would be a good idea to stumble out of my house and wander the darkened, quiet neighborhood. I obeyed and nearly crashed into a “For Sale” sign in front of a huge house a few doors down from Mags and Reg. A peek in the window showed that it was vacant, waiting for a family to move in.

I went around back and f

ound an unlocked window. I climbed in with no small amount of noise and roamed the empty house while an imaginary real estate agent took me from room to room.

And here is the pool where you’ll be able to swim without fear.

And here is the garage where he’ll tinker with old junkers, happy and safe.

And here is the kitchen where he’ll cook or you’ll call for takeout.

And here is the dining room where you’ll sit and eat together and talk about your day.

And here is your office where you’ll write.

And here is your bedroom where you’ll spend your nights, tangled and sweaty, his arms around you to keep the cold away.

A strangled laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob erupted out of me.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered to the empty house. “I’ll take it.”

A week later, it was time to say goodbye to Miller.

We met him at the Shack—Violet, Shiloh, Ronan, and myself—under a cold gray sky, no one saying much but all of them shouting volumes at me with their eyes. Pity, mostly, I thought as I sipped from my flask that had become glued to my hand. Pity that I’d never been able to bring River to the bonfires and sit in front of the flames with his arms around me the way they all did.

The way they did that day.

Violet cuddled against Miller. Shiloh sat with her back to Ronan, his tatted arms draped around her protectively. I sat alone, nursing my vodka.

It’s a catch-22, I thought, watching Miller absently kiss Violet on the top of her head.

I want River here with me, but he can’t be here because of me.

I was the problem inherent in the solution and always would be.

Finally, the sun sank, and Miller had to catch a plane to Los Angeles.

Shiloh hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Be safe. Do good.”

I staggered to my feet and hugged him tighter and longer than I should have. When I let go, I wagged a finger in his face.

“If you ever need anything and I hear that you didn’t ask me first, I will personally hunt you down and kill you.”

Miller smiled a little. “I don’t need anything but for you to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Me?” I snorted. “I’m a paragon of good life choices.”

“My ass.” He frowned as if a sudden thought came over him and threw his arms around me again. “I mean it. Take care.”