“You’re at Lambda?” he asked.
He nodded, a little shell-shocked.
“Meet you there.”
“All right,” he answered when what he meant was, what is happening?
* * *
The trip north took an hour, and their destination turned out to be a typical, four-sided, two-story, leaning barn. Seok pulled his car over to the side of the road, jumped over the culvert, and waded through the tall grasses. Ryan scrambled out, following quickly. A moment later, he heard the sound of a four-wheeler. It stopped next to them, and a small old man wearing a baseball hat and a flannel shirt approached them.
“Seok Jheon?” The man looked first at Ryan and then Seok.
“Oui,” Seok answered.
The man smiled and began speaking in rapid French, which Seok answered just as quickly. Ryan tried to follow along, but his two years of college French were nowhere near advanced enough to keep up with their banter.
“Come on, come on,” the man said, waving to them both, leading them around the back to climb up a hill opening directly into the interior of the barn.
They followed, Seok examining everything closely. He stood for a moment, staring at the beams before nodding quickly. “Neuf mille?”
“Ouais,” the man answered.
“D’accord,” Seok replied, shaking the man’s outstretched hand.
As soon as they were outside, the man jumped on his four-wheeler, probably feeling much spryer now he was nine thousand dollars richer, and drove off.
“That seems like a pretty good deal,” Ryan observed a while later as they drove back toward Brownington.
“For whom?” he asked curiously.
“For you.”
“It is. Except the man has four more such barns on his property, and I will likely be able to use only ten of those beams in there. Ten beams, at twenty-two dollars a foot, twenty feet in length. Should I only have bought those ten beams, which is what a salvager would do, he would make much less. He would also be left with a pile of wood on his land that he would have to mow around or pay to have removed. I am taking the entire lot. Additionally, he was quite excited to hear how we are using his barn. It was his grandfather’s, and he’s glad it will still be a barn in its next life.”
Somehow, Ryan didn’t believe the farmer they’d just met cared about the “next life” of wood, but he let it slide. What did he know? He never let himself care about anything.
When they arrived back in town, Seok pulled in the driveway of Lambda.
“Tomorrow?” Ryan asked.
“Yes. At the barns.” Seok’s tone was distracted, and he stared out the window at the frat.
“Okay.” An awkward pause followed as he realized he hadn’t apologized to Seok. If he did now, the man would know it was forced. Not that Ryan wasn’t sorry—he was, especially now that his victim had a face and wasn’t a blur in a room. But the words stuck in his throat, so he opened the car door and went inside.
It was a quiet night at the frat. Everyone was a little subdued after their leaders’ mess-up.
“Hey.” Gerald poked his head out of his room. He looked good, clear-eyed.
“You have community service with Omega today?”
“Yeah.” A self-conscious smile appeared on his face. “It was Stella. Stepped up for us. I guess she worried about me. Said I was an idiot, but there was love there.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow.
“Shut up,” he retorted, and shut his door.
Smiling to himself, he continued up the stairs. Today might have been a turning point for all of them.
* * *
A few weeks went by. Weeks without booze or weed. Weeks without sleeping and forcing down food when his stomach unknotted enough to keep it down. It was as if every emotion he’d kept banked for the last three years suddenly flared to life.
The ease of the first day with Seok must have been an anomaly because now he was abrupt, short, and dismissive. It was a lot easier for Ryan to tolerate, though a lot harder for him to brush-off.
He had no idea what had changed in one day, what wall collapsed after the few hours spent in Seok’s company, but it left him exposed to the world. The arrows found a mark, and it fucking hurt, an ache that stayed with him for days.
Where was the guy who’d flipped off his frat brothers when he was told to ask the cafeteria for a bowl of steam? Anything Seok wanted, he did. He was typing, measuring.
If Seok wasn’t asking him to do mind-numbing tasks of idiocy, then he was tossing out one-line barbed insults Ryan didn’t have the energy to return.
One day, Seok asked Ryan to move his car eleven times: behind the barn, to the gatehouse, into the barn. Apparently, Ryan couldn’t even do something as simple as park his own car in the right place. He moved the car two miles down the road, almost to the lake, and was walking back to the barn when he realized he hadn’t smoked weed in nearly a month, and his next drug test was tomorrow. His hands shook, not from withdrawal but from anxiety. Stopping, he put his hands on his hips, taking deep breaths, and surveyed the field in front of him.
Watching the harvesters cutting down the corn and smelling the dirt and exhaust threw him back in time to the field party, and suddenly he was on his knees. He couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t see; all he could do was suck in the air.
“Ryan.” Slowly a voice intruded in on the panic. The sun was hot on his back, and the grass was dry and sharp beneath his fingers; his breaths were broken, gasping sobs.
“Ryan. You are not alone. It will pass. It will pass.”
He dug his fingers into the grass, the dirt grinding beneath his nails, and shook his head. It wouldn’t pass. The pain was too much. What he’d done was too much; how could he ever fix it?
He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud, but the voice answered. “The pain is what moves you forward. It is what you need to make amends and find the honor you lost.”
Seok sat next to Ryan and draped his arms around his knees. Black eyes watched him, giving nothing away. His proximity comforted Ryan, though he didn’t look particularly moved by his breakdown. Seok had his life together; he wasn’t a mess like Ryan.
Pushing himself onto his heels, Ryan rubbed his eyes against his shoulder to wipe away the snot and tears. “Sorry.” The harvester drove by, and Ryan fixed his gaze there.
Grunting, Seok stood. His car sat idling a few paces away, and he got in and drove off, leaving Ryan alone.
For a while, he stood there, thinking about what Seok’d said, or started to say, and then he pushed it away. But the trick didn’t work anymore. The words bobbed to the surface; the pain moves you forward; make amends.
Enough.
Turning around, he walked back to his car. He should be expelled. It’s what he deserved. Once it happened, he could go back to burying the pain the way he had before. With a plan, he sped back to the dorm. Slamming open the doors, he crashed inside, ignoring everyone who greeted him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the barn?” Gerald walked out of the kitchen, popping the top on a soda and handing it to Stella, who seemed to be his shadow these days.
“Fuck off, Mom.”
He pretended not to hear Stella’s hiss of surprise or Gerald’s quick defense of him, and bounded to his room. He grabbed the drawers out of his bureau, dumping them onto the bed and tearing through the clothes, looking for a spare joint, a bag of buds, something. When he didn’t find any, he went down the hall, pounding on his neighbor’s door.
“Weed,” he demanded when it opened.
The brother blinked at him. “Bryce and Gerald made us get rid of all the drugs and booze. We’re on probation. The house is clean.”
“Bullshit,” Ryan mumbled, walking away. “Someone has something.”
One brother after another gave him the same answer. There was nothing left. Bryce and Gerald had cleaned it all out. Lambda was officially a dry frat.
“Rat!” he yelled, coming down the staircase. A scared-looking
freshman hurried to his side. “Here.” He pressed a twenty into his hand. “I want you to buy me a joint and come back here.”
The boy looked around nervously. “What?”
Taking a step closer, he crowded him with his body. “Go buy me weed and bring it back.”
“Jason. No. Go finish dusting the busts.” He hadn’t seen Gerald sprawled on the couch, reading a book with Stella resting her head on his shoulder.
Enough with the fucking guilt already.
The pledge ran away, looking back once before grabbing the feather duster off the sideboard and disappearing into the study.
“What is wrong with you?” Gerald sat up. “You can’t ask a pledge to buy you weed. He could get arrested, and we’re on thin ice.”
“Ger—” He shook his head. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Help you get weed?”
He threw his hands up in the air. Yeah.
Gerald shook his head. “You have a drug test tomorrow. I know because I do, too.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the fucking drug test.”
“Well, I give a fuck.” Standing, Gerald crowded Ryan. “I’m not messing up my entire life so you can get blasted.”
“You’re whipped,” he challenged, stepping forward.
“Fuck off, Ryan.”
But he wasn’t done. “Ever since you hooked up with her”—Ryan jabbed a thumb in Stella’s direction—“you’re like a god-damned lap dog. She must have some golden pussy. I don’t even fucking recognize you.”
His words had the effect he’d hoped. Gerald slammed his fist into his jaw. His head snapped back, and he bit down hard on his tongue. His mouth filled with blood, and he closed his eyes. There. That was what he needed.
He smiled, like some sort of TV villain. Wrapping his arms around Gerald’s waist, he threw him to the floor, but it was all for show.
All Ryan wanted was to hurt and let the man get the upper hand. Gerald tossed him off, and he slammed into the piano. The yells of the frat brothers echoed through the room, and arms wrapped across his chest, pulling him backwards.
“Fuck this!” Wrenching himself away from whoever was holding him, he stormed out of the house. No one called him back or ran after him.
His body ached, and his head pounded. He had one mission: to feel worse, and so far, he was damn successful.
* * *
“Wake up.”
Groaning, he threw his arm over his eyes.
“Hey, asshole. I said wake-up.”
Squinting against the light, he opened swollen, bleary eyes. Bryce stared down at him. “Let’s go. We all have to take piss tests.”
He shook his head. “Can’t. I’ll piss hot.”
Bryce snorted. “Not my problem. I’m only responsible for making sure you go today.”
His arms trembled with the effort of holding himself upright as he pushed himself off the bed. Finally he stood, bracing himself against the wall, and looked down at himself. Still dressed. “Okay.”
“You’re not going to shower?”
He raised an eyebrow, and it hurt so much he winced. “What’s the point? They’ll tell now, or they’ll tell later.”
Bryce rolled his eyes and turned to the door, leaving Ryan to stumble after him. He made it all the way out of the house before he vomited. Bryce and Gerald waited, staring at him unsympathetically as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and lurched toward the car. Gerald bent inside before pushing a bag against his chest. “Don’t barf in the car. Just got it detailed.”
Nodding, he slid into the backseat and closed his eyes. It was another sunny day, and the heat and light were icepicks, stabbing right into his eyeballs and through his temples.
“We’re here.”
He hadn’t even realized they’d left.
When he went through the doors, the receptionist and lab tech exchanged glances. The tech walked into the bathroom with Ryan to watch him pee into the cup. The experience was all kinds of soul-sucking, but what had embarrassed him a few weeks ago didn’t touch him today.
Must have done something right last night.
In the lobby, the receptionist pointed to the doors. “They left. Said you could walk.”
Giving a mirthless chuckle, he nodded his head. “They would.” Pushing through the glass doors, the daily sounds and sights of Brownington assaulted him. No one was going to be surprised with his results. Seok wouldn’t be. His brothers wouldn’t.
As he sweat his way up the hill toward the frat, he decided it was time for him to quit. It wasn’t fun anymore. It had never been fun, if he was honest, but now it wasn’t even fake fun. He could just as easily get wasted in a shitty, off-campus apartment as in a frat. The bonus would be, however, that no one would be judging him while he did it.
By the time he reached Lambda, he’d been dry-heaving for five blocks and had sweat out most of the alcohol. He could smell himself, garbage and incense. The entrance was empty, but he knew where Bryce hung out for the most part, so he went to the study.
“I’m quitting,” he said, sticking his head through the door.
“Wait!”
He poked his head in again.
“Drugs or the frat?” Bryce asked.
“The frat.”
Leaning back in the easy chair, Bryce scratched the side of his face. “Probably a good choice. We were going to throw you out if you didn’t.”
“Okay. Thanks, man.” Chuckling, Ryan stared at the ground. “I’m only staying until I have an apartment.”
“Two weeks. That’s the deal.”
“No problem.” Shutting the door to the study, he forced himself up the stairs. He fell onto his bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.
“Wake up.”
His eyes stayed shut; he’d already done this.
“Wake up.”
“Fuck you. I already woke up once today.”
A hand gripped his shoulder and rolled him over.
“I said, leave me alone!” Pushing away the hand roughly, he opened his eyes to see who dared bother him. His shock made him pull his hand back quickly. “What are you doing here?”
“You failed your drug test.” Seok stood and leaned against the wall.
“You already know?”
“I’m notified twenty-four hours after you deposit.”
Had it already been twenty-four hours? No way. Only a minute ago he’d closed his eyes. Rubbing a hand down his face, he felt more than a day’s worth of beard growth on his cheeks. Shit. Guess he had slept.
“Right. So. I’m fired. You let the presidents and the university know. I’m expelled. It’s all good.” He lay back down on the bed, but Seok pulled him up.
“No way. Get your ass out of bed. You don’t get out of this so easily.”
“Easy?” He pushed Seok away. “You don’t know me!”
“And you don’t know me,” he replied calmly. “Now get up. We have work. I’m not letting you quit.”
Ryan crossed his arms petulantly. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’ve already quit the frat. I don’t care if they kick me out.”
“You’re acting like a spoiled brat. Get out of bed. If you don’t, I’ll sit here until you do.”
“Do it,” he challenged.
Seok smiled, a wicked grin. Taking out his phone, he settled himself onto Ryan’s bureau. Suddenly the opening guitar strains of Barricuda poured from the phone. It was way too loud, the phone’s speakers giving the music a tinny, echoing sound.
Ryan rolled his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t since the gesture proved he was a spoiled brat. Seok drummed his fingers on the dresser, ignoring him completely.
The beginning riff finished, and he fiddled with the phone again. The same song began again.
“What are you doing?”
“Me? Nothing.” Seok widened his eyes. “This is my favorite song. Lot of nuance.” Holding Ryan’s glare, he began the song from the beginning again.
“I’m not going bac
k.”
“Why not, Ryan? Because I made you move your car? Because you had to do errands? Was it too belittling?”
“I’m not going back.”
“You’re afraid.”
“Of what?” he scoffed.
“I don’t know,” Seok answered, seriously.
Ryan didn’t like the way Seok watched him, like he understood him.
“But you are afraid of something, and that’s why you’re sabotaging your life.”
“You know what? I’m done.” He walked to the door, but Seok stopped him before he could get there.
“What did you do, Ryan? What can’t you fix?” The words were asked so quietly he wasn’t sure he heard them.
His head hit the door, and he shook it back and forth, feeling the wood dig into his skin. “Something I can’t take back.”
“Of course not,” he replied. “You can’t time travel, but there’s still hope to make it better.”
He turned his head. Seok leaned back against the door, his arms crossed.
“What if I can’t?”
The man turned away, giving Ryan the sense he was a million miles away. “Sometimes the pain is not what we deserve,” he finally said. “But it is what we need. It’s the thing we want to end or lessen, whether for us or for those we wronged.”
When he met Ryan’s eyes, Ryan knew Seok understood pain.
EIGHT
Matisse Knows
Present Day
RYAN DIDN’T COME down to dinner. Nora stared at his empty seat, his words swirling around in her head, his voice accentuating the worst parts: How is being a good person unattainable, Nora?
Nora. In her mind, he emphasized her name judgmentally. Did he think she wasn’t a good person? She didn’t care about doing the right thing? She speared a piece of broccoli and lifted it to her mouth before dropping it. The guys looked at her, forks halfway to their mouths.
“Excuse me,” she said quickly and ran up the stairs.
She didn’t knock on Ryan’s door. She threw it open, lunging forward to grab it before it slammed into the wall. He was asleep. The light was still on, and one shoe dangled off his foot. Even when she made no effort to quiet her steps, he didn’t move.
Finding Valor (The Searchers Book 2) Page 6
