Beneath the Stars

by Emily McIntire

I don’t really know what to say. Nausea is rolling around in my belly over the thought of going to this meeting with him—of being witness to the feelings I try to ignore. But I push down the anxiety. This is important to him. I’m honored he wants to share this vulnerable part of his life.

  “Do you—have you ever found Lily?” She was my best friend once upon a time, and I carry a lot of guilt for how I handled things with her. I ignored my worries well before I spoke them. Too naive to know what was really going on, and then too stupid to speak up when I had the chance.

  His mouth curves into a sad smile. “I don’t know if Sam and Anna are still searching. It wouldn’t surprise me. I don’t know where I’d even begin to look.” He tugs on the ends of his messy hair. “She could be anywhere, you know? She could be happy as hell living a life without me in it. Or maybe she’s dead in a ditch.” I see the torment as it swirls around his face, darkening the hazel of his eyes.

  My breath hitches at the thought. “Don’t think that. Have you ever thought about lookin’ again?”

  “For Lily?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know how it works. But don’t they have private investigators—or whatever they’re called, that can do that? Hunt people down?”

  “Huh.” His fingers scratch at the scruff on his jaw. “I’ve never thought about doing that. I’m not sure I’d even want to find her. Does that make me a shitty person?”

  “No. It just makes you human, Chase.”

  “I just—I’m so angry at her for leaving. Part of me feels like she’s had plenty of time to find her way back. She hasn’t, so I have to assume she wants to be left alone. And that makes me a piece of shit brother.” He stabs his finger into his chest. “I should be turning the world upside down, right?”

  “Maybe.” I raise my shoulder as I bite into a tomato.

  He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Your sister was never known for her humility, Chase. You of all people should be able to relate to that. Maybe she wants to come home and feels like she can’t. Or maybe you’re right, and she wants nothin’ to do with you.”

  He flinches, and I regret how blunt my words come across. But it’s the truth, and he should hear it. I reach across the table and grab his hand. “But… maybe Lily doesn’t know what she needs. Or maybe it’s not about her at all. If findin’ her will give you peace, then it’s worth doin’.”

  His eyes soften as he listens to me.

  “At least talk to your folks. Maybe they know somethin’,” I implore.

  He nods, picking up my hand and kissing the back of it. We don’t speak of it anymore, changing the subject to something lighter. Something that doesn’t take us to the darkest parts of who we are. I grab the surface level conversation and hang on tight.

  I have a feeling that tomorrow, we’ll be back in the dark again.

  43

  Chase

  It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision to bring Goldi with me to a Nar-Anon meeting. I almost didn’t ask her, afraid that she’d take it the wrong way. I wasn’t wrong, she did get defensive, but at least she’s here. I’m grateful as hell for it. But I’m also antsy as fuck. I rearrange the metal chairs in a circle, to a semi-circle, then back again.

  We arrived before anyone else, but now there’s a couple of families filtering in. Goldi’s been lost in one of the newcomer pamphlets, so I leave her to read in peace while I finish getting everything ready.

  There’s a group of about twenty tonight. Some adults, some entire families, a few lone teenagers. I envy the teenagers who are here of their own volition. If only I had been here, back then.

  It’s been a while since I’ve told my story, but tonight I’m planning to share. I want to show Goldi the parts of me she’s never seen—the pieces that were too broken to love her when I was a boy. Needless to say, I’m fucking nervous as shit. Telling a bunch of anonymous strangers was hard enough, but to lay it all on the line in front of Goldi? That’s a whole different ball game.

  I dive right in before I lose the nerve. I talk about Lily, even though most have heard the story. I talk about my mom and the wounds she caused that will never heal. I hear the murmurs of agreement when I speak of the weight of responsibility laid on my shoulders at such a young age. How it’s still a struggle, every day to remember that my mom’s demons were her own. That the guilt I feel is misplaced. That it was never my job to make sure she was happy. I meet Goldi’s eyes as I strip off my armor and show the naked man underneath. This is raw. This is real. This is me.

  I talk about all of it, and then I listen. I listen to others share their grief. Some speak with hope, while others speak from loss.

  It’s easy to think about the addicts. Easy to sympathize with their disease, mourn their deaths. It’s simple to put out a tweet about what a tragedy it is, and how we need to do something about the drug crisis. But nobody remembers to think of the people left behind. We’re expected to dust off our knees from where we fell, and move on with our lives like we aren’t ripped to shreds. Like it isn’t taking fucking everything to simply breathe through the pain.

  We are the forgotten. Even though we’re the ones who are left to struggle.

  This moment right here, with strangers coming together and laying their souls bare—this is why I brought Goldi. So she could see that she isn’t alone. She isn’t invisible. She isn’t to blame.

  Goldi sits in her spot long after the last person leaves. I make my way over, the metal legs of the chair scraping as I sit across from her. Her face is dry, but her eyes tell the story of her tears. She opens her mouth then closes it, her lips pressing together.

  “I don’t… I didn’t…” She clears her throat. “I didn’t think it was gonna be like that.”

  I nod because I fucking get it. I felt the same way at my first meeting.

  “Those people,” she says. “What they’ve been through…” Tears well up again, and her palms press to her eyes. She drops her hands, piercing me with her gaze. “You are strong. Stronger than I could ever be.”

  “You know that’s not true, Goldi. I see strength in everything you do.”

  “I don’t feel it,” she whispers.

  “I think that’s normal.” I lean forward, tangling our fingers together and resting them on my knees. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shakes her head, looking at our hands. “Not really.”

  I don’t push. I promised she wouldn’t have to say anything. But I hope that one day she will.

  Mondays are always busy, and today is no exception. We’re wrapping up the renovation at Tiny Dancers. As long as we stay on target, we’ll be done next week, and while I’m happy things have gone smoothly, I can’t help the disappointment that’s filling me up. Being done means no more weekday Goldi. No more tight skirts and hidden corners where I can kiss her breathless like I’ve been doing every chance I get today.

  I head back to the office. It’s the end of the day and I want to let Goldi know I’m leaving and see if she wants to come over for dinner. She’s pacing the room, her cell up to her ear.

  She turns when I walk in and smiles. “Yeah, that sounds good, Jax.”

  Jax.

  Bitterness sours my stomach. We’ll inevitably continue to run into each other. He’s best friends with the love of my life. But he was my best friend first. The loss of that friendship is something that still haunts me. I understand why he protected her the way he did, and as hard as it is for me to admit, I’m grateful she has him. But I can’t help that part of me feels betrayed. It was just so easy for him to drop me. Even all these years later, it stings.

  I walk toward Goldi, backing her into the wall. She pushes against my chest, pointing to the phone, her eyes widening.

  I widen mine back at her. “I don’t care,” I mouth.

  I kiss my way down her body and drop to my knees. My hands caress her curves. These fucking skirts of hers are going to be the death of me. I lick my way up her thigh.

  “Let me cal
l you back, Jax.” Her phone clatters.

  She grabs my hair and pulls. “Just what do you think you’re doin’?”

  “Checking up on your multitasking skills. They need some work,” I tsk.

  She breaks into a smile, smacking my shoulder and pushing me away. I fall back, laughing.

  She walks behind the desk. “Regina’s on her way, so I’ll be stuck here a while. You leavin’ for the day?”

  I stand up, dusting off my jeans. “That’s a shame. I wanted to have the taste of you on my tongue for the drive home.”

  Her cheeks bloom. I love all the ways I can make her blush. I step into her and her arms wind around my neck.

  “I could come over later if you want?” she says.

  “I’d love that.” I kiss her deep, not wanting to leave because she feels so fucking good in my arms. “Guess that will have to hold me over.”

  There’s a spring in my step when I leave, excited I’ll have her in my arms again in just a few hours. I start up my truck, groaning when I realize my gas tank is sitting on empty. I hate getting gas in Sweetwater—the price is higher than back home—but I don’t think I have enough to make the twenty-minute drive. There’s a station before the entrance to the freeway, so that’s where I stop.

  I walk in, looking back to see which pump I’m on. There’s nobody else here except the guy working the register. I grab some water and go up front to pay.

  “Do I know you?”

  I glance at the cashier as I place the water on the counter and dig in my wallet. Is he talking to me? “I don’t think so, man.”

  “Huh. You sure? You look real familiar. I never forget a face.” He taps his pointer finger to his head like he’s a fucking savant.

  I look at him closer, seeing if I can place him. He’s skinny—almost too skinny, with pockmarks on his face and gaudy gold chains around his neck. There’s something about those chains. His hair is short with frosted tips. My brows furrow, a buried memory pricking the back of my mind.

  “Don’t matter, I guess. This all for ya?” He reaches down and scratches his stomach.

  Lightning strikes my entire body, bolting me in place. The memory of a skinny, pock-marked guy in a run-down house, with an unconscious Lily, slams behind my eyes.

  Motherfucker.

  I’m over the counter in less than a second, grabbing him by the chains I’m tempted to fucking murder him with.

  “Yeah. You know me, you fucking bitch. Lily Adams. Ring any bells?” This time it’s my pointer finger jabbing into his head.

  His eyes widen and he squirms, trying to escape my grip. I pull his chains tighter, twisting them.

  “Oh, fuck. You’re that brother, right? Listen… I got nothin’ to do with her now, I swear!”

  He’s panicking, his fingers clawing at my hands. “There are cameras, man. Just so you know. You hurt me, you won’t be gettin’ away with shit.”

  I smirk. It’s touching how he thinks I give a fuck.

  “I will pull you over this counter and revel in the last fucking breath you take, smiling at the cameras once I’m done. So if you know where she is, if you know anything, you better tell me. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  He jerks away, but I yank him back. The chains cut into his skin, a trail of blood dripping down his neck. I’ve been waiting a long fucking time to get my hands on this prick. He’s not going anywhere.

  “Man, come on. I don’t know! She ain’t lived here for years. Last I knew, she was gone to Arizona.”

  “When was this?” I hiss through my teeth.

  “She called a buddy of mine a few months ago... ow, quit!”

  The door chimes and it distracts me long enough for him to wrench out of my grasp, the cheap chains breaking.

  He runs over to the register and grabs the phone, pointing it at me. “Get outta here ‘fore I call the cops. I told you what I know. I don’t mess with Lily no more, not in years.”

  I clench my fists. The urge to beat the fuck out of him is strong, but I hold myself together, repeating the serenity prayer in my head. The man who walked into the store is warily watching our interaction.

  “You’re fucking lucky,” I point out.

  Turning around, I speed-walk to my truck, knocking someone in the shoulder on my way out. I don’t breathe until I’m in my seat, slamming my palms on the steering wheel.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

  My heart is racing and my mind is spinning.

  Arizona. She’s in Arizona.

  44

  Alina

  I think I might be in shock. Back when Lily overdosed and disappeared, a lot was left unsaid. Chase was closed off, and I was too afraid of pushing him to pry, so I didn’t hear the details. I didn’t realize he spent hours searching, and when he finally found her she was on the brink of death. Chase has lived with this memory seared into his brain, torturing him. An entire experience that would shape the rest of his life, and I had no idea of its depth. I never knew. My heart cracks because I never thought to ask.

  He tells me about the gas station. My eyes grow wide with every sentence he utters. I’m cozy in a pair of his basketball shorts and a tee, sitting on his couch, watching him pace a hole through his living room floor.

  “I mean, I have to do something, right?” he asks.

  “You don’t have to do anything. Do you think you should?”

  He rips at his thick, dark hair. I’m surprised he has any left on his head after the years of abuse the strands have endured.

  “I should have killed that motherfucker. I’m gonna go back. You think he’s still there?” He stops in the middle of the room, spinning to face me. His fists open and close at his sides.

  “I think you should take a deep breath.” I inhale and blow it out to show him how it’s done. He mimics me, and some of the rigidity leaves his posture. “Now, come over here. Sit down and we can talk this through.” I pat the spot next to me.

  He plops on the couch. I scoot him forward so he’s on the edge, and I squeeze behind him, my fingers kneading the tension out of his shoulders. He groans, his head dropping to give me better access.

  “Have you talked to your folks about any of this? I mean, do you ever bring up Lily?”

  He blows out a breath. “No. We don’t talk about her.”

  My hands pause their movements. His words surprise me. “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “Well… then I think that’s the first step. You need to talk to ‘em. For all we know, they could’ve been in contact with her and not told you.”

  His shoulders tighten. “They wouldn’t do that.”

  “Oh, no? Have you given them the impression you’d be open to hearin’ about her?”

  He quiets. The old Chase would clam up and change the subject anytime Lily’s name was spoken. I wouldn’t be surprised if his folks were scared to bring her up in conversation. But I could be wrong because this new Chase is an enigma. He’s more open than he was in the past—this weekend in Nashville proved that.

  The Nar-Anon meeting was different than I expected. I’ve been spending the past twenty-four hours processing, and I’m still not sure how I feel. I’ve heard about Alcoholics Anonymous. Heck, I’ve tried to get Daddy to go a thousand times. But I hadn’t heard of a support group for friends and family.

  Their stories were harrowing, digging deep inside, and pulling up ugly feelings I’d rather keep buried. Exposing the rawness I only uncover in solitude.

  I didn’t think there would ever be a day where Chase spoke his story. I spent years hoping he’d share his burdens. Even though I get now why he kept it buried, the fact I wasn’t what he needed to heal is a bitter pill to swallow.

  There are some things the heart can’t forget. Loving Chase is one. Being hurt by him is another. But losing my daddy to the devil makes me understand. Chase’s mama ravaged his soul, leaving him to pick up the pieces, and abilities become stunted when something is battered and bruised. It doesn’t excuse his behavior. It doesn’t lessen th
e phantom pain of his betrayals. But it helps.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he blurts.

  “I say a lot of things.” I press my fingers into a knot on his neck.

  “About a private investigator. To find Lily. I wasn’t planning on doing anything, but maybe this is the universe telling me I need to find her.”

  “Do you think that’s what it is? A sign from God?” God. Universe. Same thing as far as I’m concerned.

  “I don’t fucking know.” He tugs his hair again, leaning into me. “What do you think I should do?”

  The lost look in his eyes makes me want to scour the world for him. I chew my lip, considering my words. “I reckon you should talk to your folks before you decide on anything.”

  He reaches back, palming my thigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Will you come with me?”

  My eyes bulge. “To talk to your folks?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to do it alone.” His voice cracks.

  “Okay. I’ll go.” I slide my hands to his chest, wrapping my legs around his waist and squeezing tight.

  I don’t tell him how the thought of seeing them makes my stomach roll. How every time I’ve run into Anna, the air grows chilly. I don’t open up about the resentment I feel knowing Sam dropped Daddy like he couldn’t be bothered to help him through his pain.

  I don’t mention any of these things. But I sure do think them.

  The smell of fresh coffee wakes me, and I inhale deep, groaning as I stretch my muscles. I take my time getting out of Chase’s bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Snatching my phone off the end table, I check the time. I’m relieved I didn’t oversleep. I don’t want to be late for work, in case Regina’s there.

  Grabbing my clothes from my overnight bag, I head to the en suite. I don’t have any of my toiletries—other than a toothbrush—so I’ll have to use whatever’s available. The thought of smelling like Chase all day makes my belly flutter.