I whip around, head for the exit, and run for my car.
“Dane!” I call out as I walk into the kitchen, but no one’s there.
I check the den. The TV is on ESPN, but no Dane.
I jog out the French doors to the pool, my heart pounding. I’ve caught him out here before, a flat look on his face behind his sunglasses as he sat in a lounge chair. The place is eerily quiet except for the line of waterfalls along the pool wall that cascade down. Running, I scan the perimeter, the pool house, the cabana, the outdoor kitchen.
Twisting around, I dash back inside. “Dane!” I bellow.
Nothing.
I take the kitchen staircase three at a time and run to my room. He’s not there.
I step back into the hall and head to his bedroom. The door is shut and I swallow, closing my eyes, visions of Mom face down in our pool pulsing in my head.
“Dane?”
His bed is empty and his room is a total wreck, clothes on the floor, fast food drinks on the nightstand, his prescription bottles strewn about.
The sound of the shower comes from his bathroom and I call out his name before I step inside. The white, wall-to-wall marble-tiled bathroom is almost as big as his bedroom. Steam rises, clouding the mirrors.
My heart lurches when I see him huddled nude on the floor of the walk-in shower.
His knees are pulled up to his chest, water falling over him. I fling the door open and relief makes me weak. Panting, I crouch to the floor at the edge of the shower, water droplets hitting my face and clothes.
“Dane? Hey, man, I’m here,” I whisper as I reach over and turn off the water.
He doesn’t reply, just rocks back and forth.
Fear and dread snake over me as I glance around the room, my gaze landing and freezing on a package of razor blades on the sink. Adrenaline seizes me and my eyes dart back to him, but I don’t see any cuts or blood.
“Dane? Come on, man. It’s me.”
He moans, his head still lowered.
Shit, shit, shit. I rub my face. I can’t make him do the right things, and emotion, dark and thick, slides over me.
I don’t know how to fix him.
I wish I were better at this, but I’m just…
Just a fucking kid!
I barely know anything.
Since he won’t talk, I do, my voice gentle, ignoring the razor blades for now. “I was worried when you didn’t come to school.”
Several seconds pass.
“Let me get you a towel.” My legs feel weak as I push myself to stand and open the cabinet, grabbing a white one.
When I turn, he’s watching me, eyes empty.
Give me strength. Please, God, I don’t know if you’re real or if you’re listening, but this is my brother and he’s messed up, and he’s all I have, and…and I don’t know the right things to say and if I lose him—
I get in the shower with him and sit next to him and throw the towel over his shoulders. I’m not sure how long we stay there, my arms tight around him until he finally starts to cry. Long, earthshattering sobs. I’m terrified, but I don’t let go.
“I’m here, I’m here,” I say softly.
“I want to die,” he says in a ragged voice into my chest. His fists pound into my arms, and I take it. “I can’t do this shitty life anymore. I’m so tired of being lost and going on and pretending I’m okay when I’m not, and I know it and you know it, and I’m not strong, I’m not. I’m weak and I can’t shake things off like you do and carry on like she didn’t die and leave us and leave us and leave us and, fuck, I miss her so much…”
Helplessness eviscerates me. Tears clog my throat until they’re falling with his. I lift his face and press our foreheads together. “Dane, please, brother, please, you can’t leave me here. She’s gone, she is, but I’m here for you.”
He looks up at me, his face twisted. “Maybe you’d be better off without me. I keep bringing you down and you keep worrying and worrying…” He shudders, his voice halting and etched in pain. “You’re going to hate me.”
“Never.”
Several moments pass as he weeps, and I keep my arms around his wet body. I feel the tension in him, as if…
I push the hair out of his face. “Come on, talk to me. Tell me what brought this on.”
A long exhalation comes from him as he leans his head back against the shower wall. In a toneless voice, he says, “I remember…what happened to Ava.”
I flinch, revulsion crawling over my skin. “Are you saying it was you? Because no way—”
“Might as well have been,” he says bitterly. “It was Liam. And I knew it this whole time.”
I can’t breathe. Anger and rage coil inside me, itching to get out. Liam. Liam. Liam. I’m going to pound my fists into his face. I’m going to rip him apart, and then I’m going to do it all over again—
He grabs my hand and clenches it until it hurts. “I know you want to run out of here and kill him, but you have to hear all of this. You have to hear my part.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I tell him brokenly, my shoulders hunching.
He gulps air. “Liam, last night, he…he had a small group at his barn, some of the players, and he was hot after some girl from Hampton High. We were drinking and he pointed toward the Hampton girl and said, ‘Tonight I get a trophy from her.’”
“What does that mean?”
He closes his eyes. “It just sounded like something I’ve heard before, like it knocked something loose in my memory.” He scrubs his face. “It kept niggling at me. Then it hit me. I recall being at the bonfire and watching him slip off into the woods. He set his drink down on a stump, said, ‘Trophy time,’ and followed Ava.”
His words sink in, and my hands clench. Different scenarios fly through my head—
“It’s my fault too. I was there. I was THERE. And I’ve known for ten months.”
“You just now remembered,” I tell him.
“Maybe there’s other stuff I don’t recall.” He pauses, his hands wringing. “Last night, he wanted to do some coke, and I didn’t, and he kept asking me why and when I said I was tired, he just got this hard look on his face, like he knew I remembered something. I could tell he regretted saying the trophy thing.” He takes a breath. “So before he brought me home, he asked me if I remembered that I roofied Ava’s drink at the kegger, and I said no, I didn’t give her anything to drink, and he just laughed and gave me that aw-shucks routine and said, ‘I saw you giving her drinks but I won’t tell anyone.’” Anguish glazes his face as he looks at me. “I wouldn’t do that, would I? Not after what happened to Mom…”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I assure him, and he just stares at me.
“I’m your brother. That’s what you’re supposed to say because you love me, but what if I did?”
“You didn’t!” My gut fucking knows it! “Look at how the idea of it wrecks you! You didn’t!”
He flinches and I exhale and ease him up by his arms, helping him stand.
I make him sit on the toilet as I lean over the sink, turn on the water, and splash my face. After drying my face, I pick up the razors and face him. “Dane, you can’t quit on me, okay? I’m going to get you help, and you’ve got to stop with the drugs, and…” I stop, swallowing.
What does he need? He needs me and Dad. We need to circle the wagons and get him straight.
He dips his head. “This is what’s been eating at me, and for months my brain has been telling me I knew something. I don’t want to be part of that, to hurt a person like Ava.” He bites his lip, trying to fight the tears, but they’re back, coursing down his face. “I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry. I know you care about her, and what have I done?”
I watch him and wrestle with my emotions about Ava, knowing I have to be strong for him. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.” I dash into his room, grab him some joggers and a T-shirt from his chest of drawers, and press them into his hands. Inside, I’m seething with suppressed rage over Liam, but someho
w I manage to keep it from spilling over. Liam’s been at the center of Dane’s issues for months. Oh, I’m not stupid, I know my brother has problems, but Liam, that motherfucker, I’m going to kill—
“I can’t go to school,” Dane murmurs.
“I know.” I’m just glad he’s putting his pants on. I don’t want to think about the broken boy in the shower.
“How does peppermint tea sound? We can talk. Are you high right now?”
Isn’t that what old people do, coffee and tea until everything’s okay?
He shakes his head, and when I meet his eyes, they still have that vacant look, but his pupils are normal.
After I change into some sweats and a shirt that isn’t wet, we walk downstairs to the kitchen, and I put the kettle on, wishing Dad were here. He’s on a plane and won’t land until noon. We’re going to need his help. None of this can go wrong if we want to keep Dane safe from himself while also making sure Liam gets what he deserves.
I send Dad a text, not really saying what’s up but letting him know it’s an emergency and to call me when he gets service. Don’t need to leave a trail, runs through my head, because I’m paranoid as shit. There’s no real proof it was Liam, and if we run and accuse him now, more than likely, he’ll point his finger at Dane and say it was him who drugged her. Hell, he could even say it was Dane who followed her into the woods. All kinds of different possibilities run through my head as I make our tea, dunking the herbal bag.
Dane sits at the marble island and sips his until there’s color in his face once again. He eyes me. “What are you thinking? Do I need to go to Ava—”
I hold my hand up. The last thing Dane needs is to be around Ava. He’s teetering on the edge and his guilt is palpable, a tangible thing.
“Liam’s at school and we aren’t. That’s what I’m thinking.” I take a sip, looking at him over the rim of my cup. “We need proof.” Or maybe I just need to see it for myself, to confirm everything Dane has said, because while I trust that he didn’t hurt Ava, his head isn’t on quite straight right now, and I need to see for myself what Liam did to her. My hands tighten.
He nods, watching my fists. “If you beat him up, you’ll be arrested. They’re somebody in this town, Knox. His dad is the fucking mayor. We need to wait for Dad before we go to the cops.”
Frustration gnaws at me. “But if he was talking about trophies, I’d like to see them.”
Dane starts. “How? I don’t even know where he keeps them.”
“Where do you keep your drugs? The good stuff?”
“Bedroom. High up in the closet inside a box under a bunch of sweaters.”
I nod, making a note to go find them later and dump them. “Then, we’re going to get into his bedroom. That’s where his secrets are. His parents are working. He has a maid and a chef, right?”
He nods, a nervous look on his face. “What are you thinking?”
I’m not thinking straight at all. I’m operating on instinct.
“We knock on the door, tell them you left your phone in Liam’s room, which makes perfect sense—you were there last night, and it’s legit if Liam asks because he tried to text you this morning and couldn’t get you.” I pause. “Plus, if we find his…whatever he keeps, and by now, I’m thinking underwear…” I pause. “I need to see it, Dane.”
Dane gives me a long look. “You’re in love with her.”
I don’t respond for several moments. “I tried to stay away from her.” For you.
He sighs and stares down at his tea. “Just…just don’t let Dad put me at Lakeside, okay? Mom hated that place.”
Lakeside is a private facility where Mom stayed on and off.
“Maybe you need to stay for a week or so—”
“No. I don’t want to not see you! I’ll go back to therapy and that’s it.” He swallows. “I’ll go today if you’ll go with me. I need you, Knox.”
I exhale and nod, knowing I’ll probably need to convince Dad of it, and then make us a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast as we talk more, letting him settle. I watch him closely, feeling better as his color brightens and he eats everything on his plate.
After I’ve called Suzy to check in and let her know we’re home today so she won’t be surprised if she sees us, I look at him. I don’t want to push him to do too much, but…
“You really want to sneak into Liam’s?” he asks.
I nod. “If you don’t want to, I’ll do it.”
He exhales. “I want to. Maybe it might jog a memory if I hurt her. I mean…” His lashes flutter. “What if it was…both of us?”
“It fucking wasn’t,” I say firmly as I grab my keys.
An hour later, the deed is done, and we leave Liam’s and get in my car. I drive to the end of their lane before I have to stop and let Dane vomit. It went pretty much like I thought it would, me smiling at the waitstaff while Dane nodded and went along with me, then we went to Liam’s bedroom on the second floor. We shut the door, locked it, and divided the room. He took the closet and I headed for the chest of drawers. I was close to giving up when I lifted his mattress. There, in an Adidas bag, I dumped out panties and thongs, some plain, some frilly. A white pair stood out. ATH was written on the back waistband. Ava Tulip Harris. She put her initials there, the same kind she wore last night.
We stood there and waffled on what to do with them. If Liam got suspicious, he might move them. If we took them, it would be messing with evidence. In the end, I used Dane’s burner to take pictures of them, making sure to get Liam’s bedroom in the photo. I don’t even know if it makes sense to take the pictures, but I’m worried he’ll ditch the underwear.
And now here we are.
Dane wipes his mouth. Puts his seat belt back on. “Do you…do you think they’ll prosecute me too? I deserve it for not remembering.”
My hands tighten around the wheel as I pull out. I don’t know if he’ll be an accomplice, but either way, this is about to be very ugly.
“In the end, it will probably come down to his word against yours about the woods and what you saw. You were trashed, but those underwear are damning.” I mull it over and decide I just don’t know enough. “He’s going to say it was you. He already dropped a hint when he said you roofied her.”
He nods, looking out the window.
A text comes in and I check my phone: a message from Dad saying he’s catching the next flight back and will be here in a few hours. I let Dane know.
He leans back against the headrest. “Thank you for coming home. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says as he looks out the window.
He’s asleep before I even reach our house.
18
“Here comes Darth Vader and Tyler. They’re getting out of the nun-mobile,” Lou says as I walk by with a platter of two burgers and fries for a two-top. Moving fast, I set down the couple’s food then bus another table on the way back.
“It’s a van. A regular van,” I tell Lou.
He grimaces. “They should paint a habit on the hood. Or a starship.”
“You’re a weirdo,” I call out to him, watching as Sister Margaret and Tyler make their way to the front door of the diner.
He throws his arms up. “I’m a nonpracticing Catholic. She’s a nun. It feels like she knows I don’t go to Mass. Don’t they have God on speed dial? She probably knows I’m divorced too,” he mutters.
I bite my lip.
Rosemary, the cook, calls out from behind the grill in the kitchen. “You also drink and cuss like a sailor and take the Lord’s name in vain—”
“Be quiet! She’s about to come in!” Lou shouts back. He lingers behind the register, one eye on the door. He snaps his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot—a lady brought this by today when I opened up. I think it’s a tip.” He hands me a note. “She said to be sure you got it.”
I tuck it in my apron to look at later.
My thoughts go to Knox. He texted me earlier today and told me he was sorry he had to leave school, but Da
ne wasn’t feeling well, and he’d text me later tonight when I got off work.
Tyler comes in and rushes over to me, and I give him a tight hug.
“How was school? Did you learn anything cool?”
He grins. “They showed me new ways to remember stuff, like I know all the letters. Just say one—I know it.”
“T.”
“Yes, that’s one. Say another.”
“Y.”
“Yep!”
“L.”
“Know it!”
“E.”
“Yeah.”
“R!”
He squints. “Balls. Did you spell my name?”
“Don’t say balls, and yes I did!” I ruffle his hair. “Do you know what order all the letters go in?”
He adjusts his glasses.
“It’s a song, bozo. You used to sing it.”
He tugs at his shirt. “A, B, C, D…” He goes all the way to T before getting a little confused, but he eventually finishes with Z.
I swing him up and he squeals. Lou and a couple of customers clap.
Sister Margaret smiles. “He regaled the entire wing of boys this afternoon.”
I feel myself glowing from the inside out.
On my dinner break, I place an order for us and we take a table in the back. I’ve just gotten the first French fry in my mouth when in walk Wyatt and Piper. I texted them earlier to see if they had dinner plans.
Piper bounces over and gives Tyler a squeeze. “Give me a hug, big boy!”
They order food at the counter and take a seat with us. Sister Margaret murmurs that she has emails to catch up with on her phone and wanders off to the front. Lou’s eyes widen as she approaches, then he scurries off to the back.
“Why are you smiling so much?” Wyatt says dryly, flexing one of his muscles again so Tyler can watch the hummingbirds on his bicep flutter.
“No one called me names today, I’m seeing Tyler, and Lou is terrified of nuns. It’s been a great day.”
“Sooooo, Knox,” comes from Piper. “Is this serious?”
I have no clue. “It’s a one day at a time kind of thing.”
Dear Ava: Enemies-to-lovers Standalone Romance Page 21
