by Debra Doxer
“I remember all our conversations,” I admitted, thinking that our relationship was changing even now, feeling the connection between us shifting, growing stronger with each honest word we spoke to each other. But it also felt tenuous, as if it could disappear again in an instant.
He turned away and looked back toward the beach. “No. I don’t feel like that anymore. Those were dark days. A lot of the songs I write now come from the way I felt then. I guess that’s where I got the band’s name. Well, that and the fact that no one liked the first name I came up with.”
“What was it?”
He grinned at me. “The Awesome Spencer Pierce and Those Other Douchebags.”
I laughed at his deadpan delivery. I only stopped when he asked, “Should we ring the bell?”
I hesitated, undecided for a moment before I said, “No.”
He eyed me curiously.
“This is enough. This is what I needed.” I wondered if he knew I’d meant our talk too, not just the house. Without this reconciliation with Spencer, my return wouldn’t have been as meaningful. Going inside now could only lessen the effect. The inside wouldn’t contain our old green couch with the chocolate stains Emma and I blamed each other for, or our scuffed kitchen table. The table was now in Michigan, and Uncle Russ sold the couch for us years ago. I wanted to keep my memories of the inside intact. At least, that was what I told myself.
“You sure?” he asked.
I nodded, knowing I had to tell him that there was one more thing I needed, and it wasn’t to be found inside the house. “Spencer, I want to talk to the police while I’m here. I want them to investigate my father’s death again, even if your uncle can’t be made to pay for it anymore.”
He was quiet as he looked at me, his expression unreadable.
“Spencer?”
“I heard you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming uncomfortable. “And I don’t blame you.”
I didn’t miss the tension in his voice and the wrinkle in his forehead. His mouth was a straight line as his eyes looked at everything but me. My stomach sank. He obviously didn’t like the idea now any more than he had then. I couldn’t understand. His uncle was gone. He couldn’t hurt either one of us anymore.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he snapped.
His tone effectively shut me down. I took a step away, withdrawing from him.
Then we stood there, neither of us talking. When the moment stretched out too long, he asked, “Do you need a ride back?”
Disappointed and confused, I almost said no. But my feet were sore from running earlier. There was no way I could walk the two miles back to Riley’s, so I accepted.
But the mood had changed, weighed down by a heaviness that was hurtful.
Riley was sitting on the couch, coffee mug in hand, bleary-eyed and annoyed at me. “I know I’m not your mother, but you could have left me a note if you were planning to disappear in the middle of the night.”
I realized she wasn’t annoyed. She was worried about me again. I pulled off my sandals, aware that grains of sand were still stuck in the crevices. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t planned to go anywhere. It was kind of spur of the moment.”
“I’m just . . .” She broke off as she watched me pour myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “I’m scared for you, okay? I’ve learned all these new facts about you and the secrets you and Spencer have both been keeping, and I’m a little on edge. By the way, who keeps a fucking secret for five years? Geez. I should tell the CIA about the two of you. You’d make great spies.”
I sank down on the other end of the couch. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the beach across from my old house. Spencer was there. We walked over to the house together.”
Her eyes grew round. “Spencer was there? At the beach? This is the same place you guys used to go?”
I nodded.
“How did he know you’d be there?”
I shrugged. “He didn’t. I think he’s been going there in case I showed up.” Even though I was frustrated and angry with Spencer again, that fact was still blowing me away.
She put her coffee down and leaned across the couch in my direction. “Is something going on between you two?”
When Spencer was kissing me on the beach, I thought the answer might be yes, but first I had to deal with Nate. Now I knew things weren’t so simple. If Spencer couldn’t be more open with me, then I couldn’t be with him. At least, that was what my head was saying, but my heart was telling me not to give up on him. “Maybe . . . I don’t know,” I replied lamely, hearing the way my voice wobbled.
Sitting back against the cushion, Riley gave me a tentative, almost disapproving look. With all the hinting she’d been doing about me and Spencer getting together, I expected my answer to give her encouragement. But her expression said differently.
“Sarah,” she started, then paused. “I really thought you two would be great together. I mean, Spencer doesn’t let anyone in, but the way he looked at you that first night, and then when he got himself invited out with us after that, I thought maybe you were the one who could finally get through to him.” She peered at me from the corner of her eye. “But now I know that you and Spencer share this really terrible history.”
I gripped my fingers together as I listened.
“I’m not sure reminding him of that is the best thing. I mean, he was . . .” She broke off and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “It was like he was down in this deep hole for so long, and over the last couple of years he’s been pulling himself out. I don’t want him brought back to that place. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”
When she finished, it felt like she’d pulled the rug out from under me. I thought the fact that Spencer and I could understand each other in that way was a good thing. It felt good to me today to be able to talk to him, until the very end when he shut down. It hadn’t occurred to me that I could be bad for him. Was that why he’d reacted so coldly when I told him I wanted to talk to the police? Because the memories were still too hard for him to face?
I didn’t want to believe I could be a setback for Spencer. Disturbed at the thought, I tried to reason that possibility away, because even though Riley knew the facts, she didn’t know the soft underbelly of the feelings involved.
“I know you care about him,” I told her. “And I’m glad you do. He can’t have enough people in his life looking out for him. But I promise that hurting him is the last thing I want to do.”
“I know that,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t do it on purpose.” Then she stood up, and I could see how guilty she felt. Self-consciously flattening the wrinkles in her uniform, she said, “Swallowed is booked for three nights in Chatham starting tonight. It would be great if you could check out one of their shows with me. If you wanted to.”
It sounded like a peace offering, and I wasn’t upset with her. Her motives were good. I was just upset in general. “Maybe. Can I let you know?”
“Sure,” she said, averting her gaze, seeming uncomfortable.
After Riley left for work, I stayed on the couch, leaning my head back against the cushions. I thought about what she’d said, knowing she could be right about my dragging Spencer back to a place that was unhealthy for him. But he was the one seeking me out. If being around me hurt too much, he needed to keep his distance before he hurt the both of us again.
I could sit on Riley’s couch all day thinking about Spencer’s reactions and I’d never completely figure him out. There were still too many unsolvable parts to him. But there was one thing I could solve today. I sat for a while longer, working up the courage I needed to call Nate. I had to finally be honest with him. No matter what happened with Spencer, this talk with Nate was long overdue. My arm felt heavy as I reached for my phone and tapped on his name.
Nate answered after a few rings. “Hey, you. I’m bored out of my skull. Good timing.”
It was the middle of the day, and I knew his job ended yesterday so he co
uld start getting ready for school. “What’s so boring?”
“My mom put me to work painting the garage, but I’ve been texting and watching The Fast and the Furious on my phone instead.”
Despite the rock now sitting on my chest, I chuckled. “I think she’ll know something’s up when the garage doesn’t get painted.”
“Maybe I could unscrew the light bulbs. If it’s dark enough in here, she’ll never notice.”
“Or you could actually paint the garage.”
“Well, yeah. There’s that.” He laughed softly, but I thought it sounded a little forced. Then we both got quiet. “How are you?” he asked evenly. “You haven’t been in touch, and I didn’t want to bother you.”
The fact that he used the word bother made me feel awful. “I’m good.”
He sighed into the phone. “Good doesn’t tell me much.”
My throat started to close up. “We need to talk.” I let that ominous sentence hang as my eyes burned with tears for the second time today. His silence told me he knew what it meant.
“I’d like to still be your friend, but I don’t want to be a couple anymore. I’m sorry,” I finally said.
Nate released a harsh breath. “You want to be my friend? I thought you were going to wait and see how you felt after being back there.”
“I know how I feel.”
On his side of the line, something banged loudly, making me flinch. “Shit, Sarah. Are you seriously doing this to me over the phone?”
“I’m so—”
“For God’s sake, don’t say you’re sorry again.” I heard him moving around.
The rock turned into a boulder.
“Why now?” he asked.
Nate was acting like this was out of the blue. He’d convinced himself that I wouldn’t end things with him, even though I’d tried before. “It’s not just now,” I said softly. “You know that.”
He was silent again. I pictured him standing in his garage, his hand on his hip, scowling at the phone.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said.
“I know you don’t want to hear it again, but I am sorry.”
Then the line went quiet. I pulled the phone away to look at it, but there was no one there. Nate had hung up on me.
I took a long, hot shower as if I could wash the residue of Nate’s animosity off my skin. My feet were still sore from running in sandals, and I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I wanted a nap to make up for all the sleep I’d lost. As I was about to lie down, there was a knock at the door. At first I didn’t want to answer since whoever it was would be looking for Riley. But when the knock sounded again, louder this time, I decided to see who it was.
When I opened the door and saw Spencer standing there, my heart stuttered before pounding hard again. His tousled hair fell around his face and his dark eyes were steady, holding my gaze as he seemed to be searching for words. I tried not to notice the way his biceps bunched when he reached up to push the hair out of his eyes, or the way his cheeks sucked in when he took a breath, accentuating the high cheekbones that made his expression welcoming when he smiled, and harsh when he didn’t. He wasn’t smiling now. In fact, he seemed nervous.
It was that flash of vulnerability that finally got my mouth working. “Is everything okay?”
“Can I come in?”
I nodded and he moved past me, close enough that our arms touched. He stayed close when he said, “Sarah, I don’t think talking to the police is a good idea.”
I sighed, all my wariness returning. “Why not?”
Spencer stepped away from me and rested a hand on the breakfast bar. “They’re still there,” he said. “The cops who protected my uncle. They’re there, and they won’t like you bringing this up again.”
“I know.” I’d already thought of that, but I couldn’t let it stop me.
His expression didn’t change. “They can bury your statement if they want. You could go in there and it won’t make a fucking difference at all.”
His arguments felt like tiny pinpricks on my skin. “There’s a new chief now. Maybe he’ll listen or maybe he won’t, but I have to try.” I crossed my arms, folding them over my chest. “I was going to ask if you’d come with me and tell him what you heard your uncle say that night. But I can go on my own. I’m not fourteen anymore. I don’t need you.”
Before I could turn away, he was in front of me, holding me by the arms. “You still don’t understand. I was thinking of you then, and I’m still thinking of you now. Christ, I’m always thinking of you. Since you came back, you’re all I fucking think about.”
His eyes were wild, as if he hadn’t meant to say that, as if he was afraid it would scare me. It shocked me, but I wasn’t scared. I was torn. My heart squeezed tight. I wanted him on my side, and I wanted him by my side more than ever. But his words didn’t matter if his actions didn’t reflect them.
“I can’t stay quiet anymore,” I said. “You don’t know how it’s killing me. Little by little, day by day, it’s breaking me down. I can’t move on if I don’t do this. If you can’t support me . . .” I motioned between us, knowing it was only a matter of time before he pushed me away again. “Then I can’t do whatever this is either.”
Spencer closed his eyes and when they opened again, the sharp edge was gone. “If you pursue this, you’ll be hurt.”
My throat constricted, and tears weren’t far behind. “Maybe.”
He moved in close to me again. His jaw tightened and his gaze focused. “Okay. Fine. You don’t need me. But if you’re determined to do this, you’ve got me anyway. I’ll go with you to the police if that’s what you want. But there are things you don’t know. Things you don’t want to know. If I go in there with you, I’ll have to tell them everything. Otherwise, there’s no point.”
I slanted my head at him, not liking the sense of dread that crept up on me. “What don’t I know?”
He blew out a slow breath. Taking my hand, he led me over to the couch. Once we were seated, he hesitated. His eyes searched mine before they became dark and determined. “My uncle was paying off half the police force. He paid them a lot of money to leave him alone. That’s why they wouldn’t cross him. That’s why they always took his side.”
“They did it for money?” I asked, thinking it was the worst possible reason.
He nodded. “Sometimes my uncle sent me to deliver small packages of bills. Sometimes the cops came to the house to get them. I know exactly who took the bribes, and my uncle knew my aunt and I wouldn’t say anything. The punishment wouldn’t be worth it.”
“Who was he paying?” I asked hesitantly.
Spencer’s lips tightened. “Friends of your father’s. Some of his closest friends.”
My mind sorted through the faces I remembered, but I couldn’t recall the names of all the people who had come to our barbecues or passed through our house at different times. Spencer watched me closely, waiting. There was something in his expression that made one name float to the top.
“Uncle Russ,” I whispered. His name almost fell inadvertently from my lips, and Spencer’s silent reaction confirmed it before I could take it back.
“I’m sorry, Sarah.”
But I hardly heard him because if Uncle Russ was taking bribes . . . “The chief too?” I asked.
He nodded. “They didn’t cover up your father’s murder because they were afraid of my uncle. Although I’m sure that was part of it. They did it because he paid them to.”
No, no, no. They were the ones who convinced us to leave South Seaport. My stomach lurched as my breakfast began pushing back up. Shoving away from him, I ran for the bathroom. I could hear his feet hit the floor behind me as I reached the toilet just in time, but all that came up was acid and bile. I’d forgotten to eat breakfast.
I slumped down onto the floor, putting my face in my hands.
Spencer knelt down beside me. “I never wanted you to find out about it. I didn’t want to make it any worse for you.” He reached ou
t to push my hair back from my face and tuck it behind my ear.
Despite his efforts to comfort me, an icy chill swept through me, making me shudder as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. How was I going to tell my mother? These men were my dad’s best friends.
I pictured Russ standing over me when I first woke up in the hospital, and the way he sat in our house after the funeral. Then I saw him greeting me at the bus the other day with a smile and a hug. How could he have done what Spencer was saying? How could he have done that to my father and to all of us?
“That last day on the beach when I saw you, you knew all this then?” I asked.
He nodded. “That was why you had to leave. You couldn’t have won against my uncle and the whole police force too.”
I realized it was that same police force that knew the truth about that night. “Did your uncle know I was in the car all along? Did they tell him?”
“No. They weren’t complete monsters. They knew he was capable of coming after you if he found out. They never told him.” Looking tired, Spencer leaned his head back against the wall.
Exhaling, I let my head rest against the wall too. “Why do you come back here in the summer?” I asked. “You must hate this town more than I do.”
Our eyes met. “You don’t hate this town, not entirely,” he said. “I don’t either. It’s too beautiful to hate it here.”
I pulled in a shaky breath, thinking he was right. While a part of me did hate this place, another part would always think of it as home.
Glancing down at Spencer’s arms, I softly spoke the words he had written there. “Unconquered, brave, generous, courageous, humble, and kind.” I remembered them all.
Five years ago, he’d purposely made me despise him and he’d kept this information from me, all in an effort to protect me. He didn’t need those tattoos to make him the things I’d just said. They were ingrained in who he was. The fact that he didn’t know that was another tragedy in all of this.
He watched me quietly, a fragile smile playing on his lips. Overwhelmed, I gripped my hands together on my lap, stalling as I struggled to deal with the emotional overload. Finally I spoke.
