In her scramble to keep her friends in sight, Rachael left her lunch virtually untouched on the table. The bouncy sway of Jain’s fiery curls rounding a corner caught her attention. Rachael jogged to catch up.
“What’s going on?” she panted.
Jain’s eyes darkened. “Kevin has gym this period.”
Sometimes the staggered lunch hours had a benefit, Rachael reflected. Then she realized what that meant. “Wait, so Vera’s—?”
“It’ll get ugly,” said Amanda over her shoulder.
Something akin to delight colored Shawna’s voice. “She doesn’t look it, but when Vera gets mad, she’s vicious.”
The girls led her down the hallway, past Rachael and Shawna’s algebra classroom, through a brick-laden corridor with bathrooms on either side, and out a heavy double door that opened them to the bitter chill of early January frost. The school gymnasium sat fifty feet away, surrounded by sport fields and a winding concrete walkway.
Several strides ahead, Vera yanked open the gym door and stalked inside. Shawna beckoned the group to hide behind the corner of the building. Knowing better than to speak, Rachael flattened herself against the brick wall. She stared upward at the pregnant gray clouds, catching her breath. A shiver of equal parts trepidation and cold ran up her spine.
The heavy creak of a door helped her focus. Rachael held her breath as she recognized Kevin speaking. “. . . have waited ‘til later.”
“No.” The voice was crisp yet unmistakably Vera’s. “We’ll talk now. You’re bothering my friends.”
“Only one,” Kevin insisted. “No one else will talk to me—”
“Oh, what a shock.”
“—and I just need you to hear me out.”
Inwardly, Rachael begged her throbbing heart to quiet. From the expressions of her friends, they were in the same predicament. Shawna made a gesture toward Amanda.
After a lengthy pause, Kevin said, “I screwed up bad, Vera. I get that, honest. And I’ll never bother you again after today, I swear, but you’re the sweetest, most beautiful woman in the world. If anybody didn’t deserve—”
“What do you want, Kevin?” snapped Vera.
A glint in the corner of Rachael’s eye turned her head. Shawna carefully held up a compact mirror, angling it so Rachael could barely see Kevin clasping Vera’s hands while his ex-girlfriend leaned away. For an instant, Rachael’s heart twisted—for Kevin. The pain scrawled across his face was one of sheer torment.
“What you do deserve is the truth,” Kevin insisted. “And now that you’re not friends with Coleen anymore . . .”
Oh, no.
Rachael clamped a hand over her mouth. The pounding of her adrenalized heartbeat muffled Kevin’s voice, but she didn’t need to listen. She already knew.
The facts added up in a blur of memories; how Coleen would use the break-up to aggravate Vera, why she’d insist Vera couldn’t possibly be over it yet, and most importantly, the manner in which Coleen had attempted to recreate the scenario by making overt moves on Holden just days after Vera had confessed an attraction to him.
Kevin had slept with Coleen.
Shouting broke Rachael from her depressing epiphany. It took some concentration for her to realize it was Vera.
“You complete and utter ass! It was that hard? Really? You couldn’t even break up with me first?”
“I didn’t want—”
“I don’t give a flying crap what you want. You cheated on me with the biggest home-wrecking skank in the entire school! If it was so freaking difficult to wait for me, you should have said something before slutting it up on STD Avenue! God, I hope she gave you herpes.”
On her tirade went, with far more cursing and epithets than should have fallen from the lips of a girl as kind and considerate as Vera.
Rachael kept her hand over her mouth, now because she was fighting tears. The pure and polished image of Vera now had a crack in it, one that lengthened with each insult she slung at her ex-boyfriend.
Of the girls with her, Shawna was the only one who wasn’t either shocked or sad. Her lips pulled in grim satisfaction. When she glanced at Rachael, her gloved hand went to the shivering blonde’s shoulder. “Seeing her like this is weird the first time,” she admitted. Her voice was nearly swallowed by Vera’s rant. “But Kevin deserves it.”
Rachael didn’t know what to say to that. Some of the insults Vera used didn’t sound like names anybody deserved.
Finally, as Vera paused to breathe, Kevin made another attempt to placate her. “Please. I don’t want you to hate me. I just wanted to do right by you at least once.”
Silence weighed heavy in the atmosphere as Vera seemed to compose herself. Hoarsely, she said, “You want to do the right thing?”
“Yes.”
Coldly, she said, “Get yourself tested. Then stay the hell away from me and my friends.”
Following her orders was the longest pause Rachael had ever found herself caught in. At last the gym door swung open and slowly, slowly closed. Rachael’s legs unfroze. Amanda hissed a warning and Jain tried to grab her, but Rachael ignored and avoided them as she dashed around the corner. Even as she slowed to a stop before Vera’s horrified face, Rachael didn’t know if she was planning to cry or hug her friend. “Vera, are you—”
“Are you serious?” Vera interrupted.
Taken off guard, Rachael stammered, “Am I . . . huh?”
Indignation replaced anguish as Vera snarled, “You followed me? Seriously?” Closing her eyes, she gave a short derisive laugh before looking up and asking the heavens, “So that’s it, huh? All I deserve are cheating exes, lying friends, and drama whores?”
The insult slapped Rachael with a bitterer chill than the frozen air. Before the blood had finished draining from her face, Shawna had come up from behind and wrapped a protective arm around Rachael’s shoulder. “That’s not fair. We were worried about you.”
“All of us,” Jain added meekly from the back.
Vera shook her head in disgust. With a shrug of defeat, she turned to leave, but not before pinning Rachael with a hard stare and stating, “I expect that sort of thing from Coleen. Not you.”
Even if Rachael could have come up with a response, the sight of Vera’s watering eyes closed her throat. Suddenly her tightly-coiled apprehension felt limp as overcooked spaghetti. She felt . . . exhausted. Worn out. Definitely sad, knowing Vera felt as though she had been cheated on all over again, and worse for realizing she had no empathy to give her friend.
Perhaps that was how Vera had felt when Rachael had poured her heart out over her mother’s terminal illness and impending death.
Rachael’s problem was that she already felt stretched to her limit. If she had her driver’s permit she would have considered skipping the rest of the day. Instead, she forced her way back to class. Shawna tried talking to her, but while Rachael appreciated the effort this friend was not the one she wanted to speak with.
The instant she was safe at home she called Holden.
He immediately knew something was wrong. “What’s up? Did Coleen relapse to her lovely old self again?”
With a grimace Rachael said, “Not exactly.”
When she had difficulty explaining over the phone, Holden blew out a heavy sigh. Static noise prickled Rachael’s eardrum. “I’m sort of stuck watching Nathan until Aaron gets home, and then I have to make dinner.”
“You’re still being punished?” she asked in disbelief.
“Aaron’s a douchecanoe sometimes,” Holden muttered.
In the background Rachael heard Nathan shout, “I’m gonna tell!”
Holden ignored him. “If this were a normal situation I’d ask you to come over, but . . .”
Any other day Rachael would have agreed. This time she covered the mouthpiece and went looking for her father.
Later, when Henry dropped her off at the end of the Moreno’s driveway, Holden was on the porch wearing an expression of naked astonishment. Rachael waited until her
dad drove off with stern warnings to be ready to go in precisely one hour and twenty-three minutes before she explained, “Daddy said if we did homework and . . . Mr. Moreno was here, it was okay.”
Shaking his head, Holden changed the subject. “Nathan, Aaron, and Roxi are out hunting. They just left.”
The phrasing gave Rachael pause. It was still strange to hear how cavalierly Holden referred to his lycan nature. “So, uh . . . how long will they be gone?”
Holden’s mouth cocked. “Hopefully one hour and twenty-two minutes.”
Inside, Rachael sat on the counter while Holden made an easy meal of Cobb salad. She gave him a detailed run-down of Kevin and Vera’s drama. Throughout the story Holden barely spoke, but when she finished he stated flatly, “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“About Coleen?”
“That, too.” Handing her a fork, he clarified, “I meant Vera getting mad at you.”
That stung. Rachael felt her appetite waning as she stabbed at a chunk of hard-boiled egg. “But I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even really know her when that all happened.”
Holden leaned against the counter beside her, folding his arms over his chest. “That’s not really the point, I bet. In her eyes, she went to confront Kevin and her friends spied on her. She was already humiliated twice, once with Kevin cheating on her and once when she found out the whole story. Now her best friends were an audience to her freaking out.” He sighed in commiseration.
An inkling of the sympathy Rachael had failed to dredge up earlier crept into her. “I didn’t think of it like that.”
Tilting his head to the side to smile up at her, Holden said, “I wouldn’t worry about it. She knows you’re better than that. Eventually she’ll realize it was a misunderstanding.”
He placed a hand just above her knee, a move so easy yet bold that Rachael was too startled to have an overt reaction. She set the near-empty plate on the counter beside her. Overwhelmingly, her instincts were telling her to place her hand on top of his; in gratitude, in affection, in a display of comfort—
Abruptly, Holden’s hand jerked away. Immediately Rachael was flooded with shame. The feeling intensified when she looked over her shoulder and saw Aaron standing on the kitchen doorway, clothed in nothing but a pair of black jeans.
The man kept his gaze neutral and level, an unsettling smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “My apologies. I was wondering how to retrieve a glass of water for Nathan without disturbing either of you.”
Now Rachael felt she had an idea what sort of humiliation Vera had felt earlier. “I-I wasn’t . . . we were, um—”
“I thought you were hunting,” Holden said testily.
“We were,” said Aaron simply. He strode to the cabinets opposite of Rachael, delicately plucking a glass from the shelf and filling it with water from the refrigerator. He paused to look at her, his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly, and then he turned his gaze to Holden. “If you two prefer privacy, might I suggest the study?”
Rachael paled.
If looks could kill, Holden would have easily become famous for being the first to decapitate a man with his eyes alone. “Are you trying to be an ass?” he snarled.
Grimly, Aaron pinned Rachael with his dark stare. “The fact of the matter is you are aware of our lycan nature, now. Insofar you have kept quiet—do not think I lack appreciation for that. I am merely suggesting due diligence for the both of you.” The depths of his irises went shallow and smooth when he turned his curt tones on Holden. “The doing of which, you may remember, is still your duty. Ms. Adair would not be in this situation if you hadn’t failed me—or her—the first time.”
Veins protruded from Holden’s forearms as his fists clenched. Rachael slowly slid off the counter once Aaron was gone, inhaling deep and slow to calm her tremors.
When Holden pivoted to face her, his cheeks were still burning but his voice was level. “I’m sorry you had to see him.”
She had questions, but Rachael didn’t want to ask them just yet. Instead she said, “Why don’t we go for a walk?”
Once they stepped into the mid-winter air, Holden visibly calmed. Rachael zipped her jacket snug and closed for warmth, allowing Holden to lead her to the garage. One of the doors had been left open, exposing the Audi Q7 her father had fawned over so heavily the first time he had dropped her off at the Moreno home. Holden left the door open but beckoned her to the other side of the space, behind the Mercedes, where he cracked open what looked to be a giant cooler.
Taken aback, Rachael said, “I, um, I don’t really drink.”
“I do,” Holden admitted. He pressed a glass bottle into her hand. “But this is sparkling cider. No alcohol. See?” He pointed to the label, tilting it toward the open side of the garage where the last glimmers of orange sunlight were streaming through.
In spite of his confession, he took a bottle identical to hers and popped both steel caps off with his bare hands. Not for the first time, Rachael was quietly impressed how Holden unknowingly flaunted small aspects of his lycan side, no matter how vehemently he spoke of hating it.
Quietly they chatted about normal things at first, but eventually the earlier scene nagged Rachael into asking.
“What did Aaron mean, you failed me?”
Holden was already in mid-gulp of the cider, but he flinched as though the sweet fizzy drink had turned sour on his tongue. Perhaps it had, because he spilled the rest on the ground, seemingly uncaring of the Mercedes beside them.
Slowly, he said, “I was . . . I wasn’t really your friend, at first.”
Rachael couldn’t say she was too shocked. A lot of Holden’s suspicious actions made more sense in the light of being forced one way or another.
“I was supposed to watch you,” he continued when she said nothing. “Let Aaron know about you. That first day you saw him at school—he knew. There was always something about you he liked.” With each word he grew bitterer. “He’d never really say what; just that you had good instincts and you would probably need . . . well. Another way out, if you didn’t have anyone after your mom dies.”
Conflicted on how to feel about the truncated version of the story, Rachael sipped at her drink to keep her hands and mouth distracted while she thought.
Holden took her silence as permission to continue. “When Aaron invited you over last year, I didn’t—I told him it was a stupid idea to expose you to us. He didn’t listen.”
Softly, half afraid Aaron was around the corner once again, Rachael said, “I’m sorry I freaked out.”
Holden shook his head vigorously. “No. It’s good you did. It’s healthy. Normal. Human. I honestly believe you have to be a little crazy to be what we are. To survive with knowing what you are, never making friends, keeping everything about yourself a secret, making new identities—”
“Wait, Holden isn’t your real name?” she interrupted.
A soft snort escaped him. “I’m 124 years old, Ray. We age stupidly slow. We have to change our names all the time.” His voice softened. “But we usually keep our last names and pass ourselves off as distant relatives on the rare occasion anyone starts putting two and two together. And most people prefer to believe that.”
“So why keep your name at all, then?” But that wasn’t what Rachael was focused on in the slightest. She hoped Holden mistook her reddening ears and cheeks for cold, but secretly she was riding a small wave of delight that he had so casually used her nickname.
Holden waved dismissively. “Aaron’s idea. Something about remembering our families from before.”
Rachael was surprised to hear so. It seemed awfully sentimental for a man as cold and cunning as Aaron. Instead of saying so, she asked, “Then what’s your real name?”
Holden’s potential answer was interrupted with a screeching of tires and a familiar car horn blasting. It sounded like someone was speeding toward them. Astounded that her father was so angry, Rachael pressed past Holden and went outside to come clean. She had to prove noth
ing had happened, that they were just talking—
Wait . . . Jackie?
Holden came out behind her, looking two parts confused and concerned. “Is he still that mad at me?”
The front door of the house slammed shut just as Jackson threw open their father’s car door. Overwhelmed, Rachael moved forward. “Jackie, please don’t be—”
His eyes stopped her dead. There was a wild look to them, and yet no anger. Not a hint of fury or irritation, more a look of panic and . . . loss.
“Jackie?” she whispered.
He struggled to get the words out. Behind her, Rachael dimly heard Aaron approach Holden and demand to know where someone’s moxie was, as though Rachael and Jackson didn’t even exist in that moment.
At last, Jackson said, “Mom—she fell. She’s at the hospital. We have to go.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sudden cardiac arrest.
The hospital waiting room smelled like Pine Sol and shared the same yellow hue, from the walls to the dull carpet to the speckles of yellow in the blue fabric encasing the seat of the chairs. The color was dizzying and made Rachael want to vomit just looking at it.
Sudden cardiac arrest.
The words swam around Rachael’s brain like slow goldfish. Also like fish, they didn’t seem to penetrate through the solidity of her mind, leaving her in a state where she couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind the phrase.
Her father had long since cursed up a storm and flipped a lobby chair, frightening other friends and families of ER patients until security threatened to kick him out. Henry agreed to go cool off if one of them would let him bum a cigarette.
Except Henry didn’t smoke. How weird that was, mused Rachael dreamily.
Sudden cardiac arrest. The verdict just wouldn’t leave her alone, echoing between her ears like a child screaming into a dank, empty cave.
Beside her, Jackson looked like he wanted to throw the nauseatingly bright furniture as well. Instead he sat in a chair and ranted about the improbability of it all. The chances were nil, he argued with no one but himself. While their mother had been frail in health, her heart had not been a risk to truly be considered. She had a few more years in her yet. Their mother was strong, he insisted, and she would outlive their father since he kept working himself into the ground.
Howl of the Sequoia (Secrets of the Sequoia Book 1) Page 18
