The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood #1)(26)

He never batted an eye when I asked how he got hurt, just recited off a list of believable explanations every time. And he was a boy. I mean, boys get hurt. They’re rowdy and outgoing and tough . . . and now I feel like I’m just making excuses.

I peek above the top of the book at Holden. He’s staring straight ahead, his fingers bouncing on top of his thigh to the beat of the music. He’s changed the CD, and we’re now listening to Radiohead.

In the journal entry, Tyler writes about the time Holden got caught stealing a bike, and how their dad, instead of making Holden return it and apologize and then grounding him (like a sane parent would do), forced Holden to ride the bike for hours and hours. He drove his car behind him, beeping the horn whenever Holden tried to take a break, Tyler in the passenger’s seat.

And when Holden was too exhausted to go on, their dad chucked the bike in the woods. Then he took a too-tired-to-defend-himself Holden home and whaled on him. Tyler says his dad never left suspicious marks, always inflicting pain in a way that could be easily explained away. He was involved with law enforcement before he became a lawyer, and he knew how to hurt without leaving evidence.

My stomach lurches. Through the saliva coating my mouth, making it difficult to do anything past hurl, I manage to say, “Pull over.”

Holden eases off the gas and glances over. “What’s wrong?”

“Please.” I breathe through my nose and shake my head. “Just pull over for a minute.”

“Hell.” He steers his truck toward the shoulder of the road, then pops the emergency brake and turns on the hazards. “Sit up,” he instructs as he slides across the seat.

After quickly tucking the book and journal under the seat, I push myself up, and one of Holden’s arms slips around my waist as he pulls the door handle with his other hand.

“I can walk,” I say, but he’s already lifting me into his arms.

He bounces out of the truck and carries me a couple steps before setting me down on the grassy roadside. I slump to the ground, and he leans over, sweeping my hair from my shoulders and holding it against my back. Before I can protest, I bend at the waist, and the contents of this morning’s breakfast expel from my stomach with a harsh wretch. “Please don’t watch,” I get out before another wave hits.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says. “Did you eat something bad?”

I shake my head, swallowing past the gag. “I don’t know.” But I do know. And I’m not sure I can ever look at him the same way again.

After the last of my stomach is on the ground, I sit back on my knees. Holden brushes my hair against my back and then stands.

“I’ll get you some water.”

I rub my hands over my face, into the sockets of my eyes, wishing I could erase the images Tyler’s words put there. And when I open my eyes, Tyler’s standing across the ditch, a knowing look on his face. His brow furrows and his eyes pale. I shake my head, over and over. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know whether he’s angry that I read his journal, or that I dragged his brother along on this trip. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. It doesn’t change how I feel about him, only pangs my heart with so much regret.

In a blink, he’s kneeling beside me. “I never wanted you to know. To look at me like—” He turns his head away, his jaw locked hard.

Without thought, I reach out, trying to touch him. Dammit! “Tyler, I love you. I could never think anything bad about you.”

“I’m not weak,” he grits out.

“You’re the strongest person I know. What he did? When you were just a kid? He’s the weak one. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.” I lay my hand atop my thigh, gripping my legs because I can’t touch him.

Finally, his eyes meet mine, and the brown of his irises is so clear. I can see the woods through them, and I just miss the deepness of what I used to look into. “It’s right that you know. I should’ve told you before.”

“I wish you had,” I whisper.

A sad smile mars his face. “Just know . . . I love you.” He looks down at the ground. “I’m tired, Sam.”

Footsteps sound from behind me, Holden’s boots crunching the gravel. Tyler begins to fade, and it’s like a knife to my heart.

“Sam?” Holden hands me the water bottle from over my shoulder.

“Thank you.” With a steadying breath, I push to my feet, my gaze still cast on the emptiness Tyler’s presence left behind.

Once we’re back on the road, I can’t stomach the thought of reading anymore of Tyler’s memories. I know there’s something in there that’s going to test me, and I’m scared to find out what.

Pulling both feet onto the seat, I hug my legs to my rocky stomach. “How far away are we?”

Holden glances at the time. “About an hour.”

“Really?”

He chuckles. “I drive fast.”

It’s only been three and a half hours. “No shit.”

“You feeling better?”

I nod. “I think it’s just been a while since I’ve been in a car, for like, more than ten minutes. I can’t remember the last time I was on a road trip. Probably carsick.”

He turns down the volume on the stereo even further. “Rachel mentioned that you don’t drive anymore.”