The Darkest Part

by Trisha Wolfe

  Her eyes squint. “Like heaven?”

  I shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know if I believe in heaven, but I trust, after everything my brother went through in life, that whoever is in charge up there wouldn’t make him suffer now.” I press my lips together and think how to word my next sentence. “And being trapped here, a wandering soul or whatever, becoming lost in darkness. No. I refuse to accept that. In life, he was lost in that darkness, and I won’t accept he’s not at peace now. I feel it here.” I tap my chest, over my heart. “He’s where he needs to be. It’s all the proof I need.”

  Sam’s eyes are unblinking, intent, as she stares at me. “You must think I’m the cruelest person . . . That I’m trying to keep Tyler bound—”

  “No.” I sit forward and take her hand. “No. Don’t go there. I know you would never try to keep him here. Look at what you’re doing. You’re traveling across the fucking country, dealing with me”—a smile breaks across her face—“just to help Tyler. If he was here? If I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was? I’d be happy he chose to stick close to you. You’ve always taken care of him.”

  Her eyes pinch in confusion. “It was the other way around, Holden. He took care of me.”

  “You don’t even know, do you?” I smile and lace my fingers through hers. “Sam, you’re what helped him through his darkness. You were his heaven on earth. And you’re still looking out for him, even in death.”

  She blinks, and a tear trails her cheek. She sucks in a shuddering breath. And with a forceful shake of her head, she breaks. “I wish I believed that. I wish I believed Tyler was in a better place. I wish I could set him free. Oh, God . . . I want to believe that so badly.” Her shoulders begin to tremble, and I can feel her walls, whatever psychosis is trapping her mind just—for this split second—come down.

  She wants to believe. It’s a fucking start. And as her sobs take her, I can’t help myself. I’m on my knees and crushing her to my chest, holding her with everything in me—clinging to hope and prayer and her—while I try to offer whatever comfort she can find in me.

  Sam folds into me, and I let her work out her cry. I hold her for a long time, just listening to her hitched breaths, until they become calm and slow. And when she’s done, I keep holding her. I’m scared to let her go. I don’t want to. I don’t want to lose her to her own darkness.

  SAM

  “I should’ve known.” I stare at the seedy-looking little bar tucked into a pocket of Wichita that no one probably knows exists. It’s so out of the way, but somehow right in the middle of everything.

  Holden chuckles. “You were expecting a concert hall or something?”

  “Or something,” I mutter as my phone beeps. I pull it from my back pocket and open a message from Melody. “They’re inside.”

  “Come on.” Holden takes my hand, and it feels natural. I don’t fight it. “I’ll protect you from the hyper biker chicks.” He says it as a joke, but there’s a hint of threat in his voice. And I know if anyone did try to mess with me, he would protect me.

  We walk into the Milk Bar (that’s the name, for real), and I think about my Clockwork Orange poster. This bar does remind me of the one in the movie. It’s dark and loud, and white mannequins are positioned around the room. Lights from the tiny stage dance around the overcrowded room and along the low ceiling. Tall speakers on either side of a three-foot high stage blast out screeching guitars, heavy drums, and distorted vocals. Along the back wall, a giant poster advertising “Hottest Topless Bar in Wichita” proudly displays another neighborhood club.

  I have to admit, I was freaked out at first, but I suddenly want to whip out my sketchpad and capture everything.

  Holden continues to hold my hand as he leads us to a table near the stage. “She can find us here,” he shouts over the music. I take a seat, and Holden lifts his chin. “You want a beer?”

  “Yeah,” I shout back. He hurries off, and I’m surprised he’s left me alone. But I figure he doesn’t feel any real danger from this crowd. As I glance around, I notice a lot of them are teens.

  A row has formed right in front of the stage, waiting for the band to start. Dark-clad bodies, leather, pale faces, and wild, multi-colored hair are everywhere. I don’t feel out of place at all, unlike the biker bar we went to in Talladega. Here, there’s a mix from just about every scene.

  Sinking into my seat, I let the music drown out the thoughts trying to break through. I haven’t thought too much on what happened at the park. Truth is, I feel like I needed that cry, and Holden hasn’t spoken of it since. But his words stuck with me. Even now, here, as I’m actually looking forward to this show and hanging with Melody and Darla, his words are in the back of my mind, lingering and coiling.

  When Tyler first told me he was getting trapped in that dark limbo, I felt so selfish for needing him. Wanting him to stay with me. I just couldn’t imagine my life without us. Then today when Holden voiced why he believed it wasn’t possible, my selfishness felt like a stab right through my heart.

  I would never do anything to hurt Tyler. Not on purpose. When he died, it was the worst moment of my life. The days that followed, I had never been so lost. Do I believe my desperation could’ve brought Tyler back to me? Did I pull him out of the light?

  I’m not sure. Sometimes I think so . . . only I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want my pain to have trapped him here. But Holden is right about one thing. I don’t want Tyler lost and wandering, surrounded by darkness. I did suck up my fear to do this trip. And I’m determined to free Tyler no matter what.

  Only, his words also made me realize that maybe, just maybe, I’m still lost. That Tyler’s darkness is not his, but mine. Holden trusts that his brother is in a good place already. How come I could never believe that? Can I now?

  I told Holden the truth. I wish I did. If this was all in my head, I’d take my pills and finish the trip and love the memory of Tyler.

  Holden has created doubt.

  For the first time, I’m questioning what’s real and what’s not. Because one fact remains: I love Tyler. And I want to believe he’s not suffering.

  Arms wrap around me from behind, and I startle out of my morbid thoughts. “You’re here!” Melody screeches. She plunks down in the seat next to mine and sets her beer on the table. “Where’s dickhead?”

  I laugh and point toward the bar area. “Getting beers. Where’s Darla?”

  Melody rolls her eyes. “She’s a fucking sex kitten, that one. She’s getting it on with Derick in the bathroom.” She sips from her beer bottle. “She’ll find us when she’s sexed up enough.”

  I laugh again, and I’m already feeling my mood lighten. For tonight, for now, I try to pretend that my ghost boyfriend is someplace where he’s happy. I try to envision him in heaven, with his mother, and he’s not alone. And suddenly, I wonder why I’d never thought of that before.

  Holden enters my line of sight, and all thoughts vanish. My eyes take him in as he works his way through the crowd and I smile. His black T-shirt is loose, but hugs his well-defined, leanly muscled arms perfectly. His low-slung jeans fall just right on his hips, and his hair is sexy-messy.

  “Uh, huh,” Melody says near my ear. “So I see you chose to let it work itself out.” She slants a smile at me and winks her heavily lined eye.

  I shrug. “For now.”

  “That’s my girl.” She shamelessly stares at Holden. “Holy shit. Sex on a fucking stick. I’d down a bottle of psycho pills for him.”

  I elbow her side, and she giggles. The fact that Melody giggles like a total girl makes me snort a laugh.

  Holden stops before the table, eyebrows raised. Looking just like yes, sex on a fucking stick.

  Tyler, forgive me. But Wichita is my stop. And I’m going to try and enjoy a night without you.

  The all-girl punk band is just as Melody described: hardcore and kick ass.

  Once they started playing and the crowd pushed in, staying seated at the table was impossible. My height
has always been an issue at concerts and shows, but Holden led us up to a split section where two stairs lead to a top level. I’m now pressed against metal bars between the two levels of the club.

  Melody and Darla are to my left, bouncing, their hands formed into horns and pumping the air. And Holden is behind me. I can tell he’s trying not to press into me, but as the crowd gets rowdier, it’s pointless. Finally, he grips the bar in front of me to hold his place, both arms on either side of my waist.

  I’m focused on the band, but his proximity is hard to ignore. His body heat rolls over me. His cologne invades my senses. I’m dizzy from the music, atmosphere, and him.

  Melody climbs to the bottom rung of the guardrail and raises her hands. Darla gets lost in the crowd as they dance and thrash. And I just let go. Fuck it. I jump up and down, raising my arms, shouting along with everyone else.

  The band really is that good. They do their own songs, but a lot of covers, too. And so far, I’ve loved everything they’ve played. I’m bumping into Holden, but I don’t care. He’ll just have to deal. Then I turn toward him. “Spot me?”

  His head jerks back in confusion, but I don’t give him time to ask. I climb up beside Melody and lean my thighs against the top bar. “Yeah!” she screams, clasping my hand before she goes back to cheering.

  Then I feel Holden’s hands on my thighs, supporting me, and heat that’s not from the overcrowded room washes over me. The band jams through another two fast-paced songs, tearing up the stage, and then the lead singer hushes the crowd.

  “We’re slowing it down with a cover from the Misfits.” Her raspy voice booms through the speakers. “This one’s for someone I’ve loved and lost. Come back, Tony.”

  My heart tightens. Holden’s hands are suddenly too hot, seeping through my jeans, scalding. A wave of embarrassment crashes over me. I know what song she’s about to sing, and I don’t feel safe standing on my own two feet anymore. My legs lock at the knees.

  A quick drum solo leads into a heavy guitar riff, and I swallow down the ache in my throat. I’m suddenly fourteen. Listening to the Misfits because they’re one of Holden’s favorite bands. And then I’m in tears. Hitting repeat on the song Come Back. Unable to understand how I lost him after only just . . .

  My legs buckle, and I’m falling forward. Crap. Holden’s arms reach around my waist and stop me from hitting the floor face first. My back presses against his chest as he pulls me off the guardrail. I reach behind me and wrap an arm around his neck.

  “Are you okay?” he shouts. He grabs my thigh and swings me around, like I’m nothing but a doll in his arms, as he turns me to face him.

  “Yeah.” I close my eyes. The song pumps hard in my ears, the lyrics puncturing a hole in my heart. Or reopening one I thought was healed over.

  Holden’s not putting me down, I realize. And when I open my eyes, his face is just inches from mine. His arms secure me to him, and he quickly adjusts me so that my legs are anchored around his waist. I allow my other arm to wrap around his neck. We’re locked together. Just like too many years ago under the tree.

  And I’m trembling all over again. Unable to break away from his eyes. Drowning as the phantom feel of rain water submerges me in memories. The singer hits the chorus, repeating come back, over and over.

  The look he’s giving me . . . I’m terrified. As if this song means something deeply to him. As if the words pumping through the speakers are driving right home for him. Then his lips move, just barely, but they do.

  He mouths, come back.

  A current pulls me closer to him, and like static electricity, I’m clinging. One of his hands releases my back to snake into my hair, griping at my nape. His force is pulling me to him. Only we’re motionless. Frozen. In a sea of dancing bodies time stops. And I’m falling so hard into him that I halt breathing.

  Then, like being thrust suddenly and violently out of a dream, the overhead lights come on, and Melody is saying something to me. My head rings. The music still blasts my eardrums as I’m dragged out of my daze.

  “Best fucking show they’ve ever done!” Melody shouts.

  I blink, and Holden swallows. His hand is still in my hair. His arm still wraps my waist. He closes his eyes and sets my feet on the ground. The spell is broken.

  The spray of nearly scalding water washes away the club from my skin. But the pathetic pressure from the showerhead isn’t enough to blast away the confusing and consuming thoughts from my head.

  Reaching for the nozzle, I adjust the temperature even hotter, trying to scorch my body and brain clean.

  Since Melody and her biker peeps are headed back on the road tonight, Mel wanted us to follow them to another bar for drinks. But after the show, I was done. I told her we’d try to catch up with them again later, and I meant it. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.

  But as I stand in the shower, just a curtain and door separating me from Holden, I wonder if I made the right call.

  Yes. I did. Alcohol would’ve been a bad idea. My head is still swimming just from breathing in Holden’s scent. Being so close to him, touching. I clamp my eyes closed. “Stop,” I whisper. Now I’m talking to myself. Great.

  I just need to go to bed and put an end to this day. So much has happened, and my brain is spinning. I turn off the water and then wrap myself in a towel. Leaving my hair wet, I yank on my sleeping pants (best to cover all skin) and a tee. Then I stare into the mirror and nod once. Nothing sexy about me. I open the door and walk out, determined to act casual.

  Holden’s spread out on top of the comforter on the king bed, watching the flat screen. “I’m done,” I say, and hate that my voice wobbles. He offered me the shower first. I accepted, needing to wash his scent off right away.

  With a groan, he pushes himself up and off the bed. “Thanks.”

  I dash to my bed so that as he passes, I’m nowhere near him. I’m acting like an idiot. Real casual. I’m sure he’s not as rattled by me. Recalling how carried away he’d gotten when we danced at the club, I decide it’s the same thing. The atmosphere at the show was intense. The Misfits are one of his favorites, and hearing a cover probably got him worked up.

  I nod to myself, then roll my eyes.

  The shower turns on, and I bite my lip. To take my mind further off tonight, I dig Tyler’s journal out of my pack. With everything that’s happened in the past two days, I haven’t been able to devote much time to my search. And honestly, after reading about that bar girl, I haven’t wanted to.

  But no matter the conflicting emotions tormenting me, no matter what else Tyler’s journal reveals, I’m sticking to my commitment. Because I’m still committed to him.

  I refuse to let anything happen between Holden and me. I may have come to terms with my feelings for him in the past, and my conflicting feelings for him now, but that doesn’t mean he gets a free pass. I can accept that he was going through something difficult back then. And maybe he didn’t even mean to hurt me, but that’s still an obstacle between us.

  And I’m not that girl.

  Regardless of my guilty conscience where Tyler’s concerned, I am a free woman. I’m free to be with someone else. I understand the logic of it, even if my heart is struggling.

  Holden, though. No. I can’t let my heart hope for anything between us. I’m not the girl who gets treated like shit by the asshole just to run back into his arms to have it done all over again. I hate those girls.

  Grow a pair.

  Skimming Tyler’s words, I start reading when I glimpse a section about a fight between him and Holden. My heart lurches.

  A fight about me.

  It was after Holden came back from boarding school. Huh. I flip back through quickly, thinking I missed a section. There’s a gap in the timeline. I shake my head and then read hurriedly. Holden doesn’t take long showers.

  Oh, God. My eyes take in every word slowly. Rereading and then reading again. Tyler had suspicions about me and Holden, and followed his brother to the dead tree that day
we met there. The day we kissed for the first and last time.

  He saw everything. He didn’t just suspect. He knew. And he never said a word to me.

  But he did to Holden.

  I flip a couple of pages, and my chest constricts. The next time Holden met me at the tree and told me there was nothing between us, Tyler knew about that, too. And he knew the reason why.

  Hearing the bathroom door squeak open, I lay the journal next to me on the chair. My eyes snap to Holden. I must be in shock, and maybe he is, too. Or maybe it’s the expression on my face. I don’t know. But . . .

  He loved me.

  In Tyler’s own words, according to his own account, Holden Marks was in love with me.

  And he gave me up for his brother.

  He loved me.

  “Sam?” Holden’s voice is low, edgy. “What’s wrong?”

  I only know one way to answer him. I’m on my feet and racing before my brain can catch up with my body. Then I’m slamming into him with full force. My arms go around his neck, pulling his face toward mine, my lips crashing into his.

  HOLDEN

  Shock freezes me in place. My brain empties. And then I grasp Sam’s neck and her back, pulling her body closer to mine before I realize what I’m doing.

  Her tongue darts into my mouth, and every nerve in my body combusts. My hand is in her wet hair, my fingers entwining, gripping, angling her head back as I meet her hungry kiss with the raw and unstoppable need setting my body on fire.

  Then with a biting clarity, rational thought splinters through my head. I want to beat the shit out of it. With an ache in my chest and groin, I pull back and break the kiss. Pushing through a shaky breath, I ask, “What are you doing?”

  Fuck. Yes, those words did just leave my mouth. But I can’t let her do this. She’s been through too much in too short a time. Her emotions and mind are all messed up.