The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood #1)(38)

If Tyler were really trapped in some ghostly form, then all I have to do is ask her something there’s no way she could know. Something she’d have to ask Tyler. And when he doesn’t know the answer—because she doesn’t know it—she’d have to accept this is all in her mind.

But before I open my mouth to do just that, I consider the ramifications. If her mind is really in this bad of shape, what will happen when her beliefs start crumbling? Will she fall apart? Will she have an actual breakdown?

I know for damn sure I’m not here to help her regain her sanity. I’m not delusional enough to believe I can save her—I’m not hero material. I know there’s nothing romantic between us, either. Not now. She was young before, with a girl’s crush. And she loved—loves—my brother.

But I can’t turn my back on what his death has done to her. I’m warring with my own guilt, my own part in his death, and I don’t want her issues added to the mound weighing me down. Selfish? Maybe. But if she realizes by the end of this trip that Tyler’s really gone, it will just be one less thing on my conscience.

I swallow my rebuttal, and instead say, “So this trip will . . . what? You believe Tyler’s ghost will magically cross over once you complete it?”

She pushes her shades on top of her head and eyes me warily. “I have to believe that.”

Like grabbing a livewire, a bolt of electricity zings through me. The conviction in her eyes is absolute. Despite the heat, a chill slithers down my spine. She thinks she’s trying to save Tyler. But the truth is, whatever it is that protects our minds from crazy shit like this is fighting to protect hers. She doesn’t realize it, but her subconscious is trying to save her.

I can work with that.

“All right,” I say. “We fulfill Tyler’s unfinished business, and then he crosses over.”

Her eyebrows raise. “That’s it? No fight. No debate about how I should be taking my meds and talking to my psychiatrist and everything? You just believe me, and you’re going to stick this trip out? With a crazy girl?”

I hold her gaze, unwavering. “If you believe it, then in your mind, it’s real. I won’t lie and say I think Tyler’s ghost is haunting you—”

“Don’t use that word.” Her eyes are pleading.

I nod. “Okay. Sorry. But I can’t. We’ll just have to agree to disagree, but I trust you believe it. And I’ll do the trip, for Tyler, and for my own reason.” I suck in a sharp breath. “But from here on out, we’re not discussing my past . . . at least that part of it.”

She studies me for a moment, searching my face for something. “I didn’t know about your father until yesterday.” Her mouth pulls into a tight frown. “Just so you know, I haven’t told anyone. And I promise, I never will, Holden.”

I’m grabbing that livewire again, and a painful current strikes my chest. “Yesterday?”

She nods. “And I’ll never bring it up again.”

Fuck. I bite down hard on my tongue. If she’s trying to convince me that my brother’s really a ghost—she’s messing up. I hate being lied to. But in the back of my mind, I feel a nagging twinge of doubt creeping in. Tyler never would’ve told her that—not while he was alive. And my mind flashes to the moment she got sick in the truck yesterday . . .

Shit. No. He told her at some point. Maybe after that night at the bar. After Mom died. After he started spiraling again.

“What is your reason?” she asks, catching me off-guard. Then I remember what I said. My reason for doing this trip.

I pinch my lips together, inwardly cursing. Then, as I look back over the racetrack, I say, “Redemption.”

She doesn’t press, and I’m thankful. She’d get an earful of silence from me, anyway. But she lets me have my secret, for whatever reason, and I let her have her fantasy. We’re both f*cked up in different ways, but we agree to accept that. No more questions asked.





Sam

I knew the bottom would fall out. Eventually. And I want to believe this is the worst of it—that this morning in the hotel room was the inevitable fallout Holden and I have been skirting since high school.

But as bad as it was seeing him lose his temper, and as hurtful as it was hearing what he truly thinks of me (now added to the list right under: see what it’d be like to f*ck you), I can’t believe this was the bottom. Oh, the bottom fell out beneath us, all right, but we haven’t hit bottom yet.

I’m terrified to find out how far our bottom goes.

I glance at him from out of the corner of my eye. He’s focused on the road, his gaze straight ahead. His teeth drag over his lip ring, as if he’s deep in thought. He let the subject of my psychosis drop at the speedway. Which is good, because I’m not going to argue with him. I don’t care whether he believes me or not. Truthfully, I was hoping to avoid discussing it at all. Despite my feelings toward Holden, I don’t want to hurt him. Not by using Tyler, anyway.

I can imagine if it were the other way around, and he was trying to convince me that Tyler was stuck on this plane. I’d be angry and resentful and feel gutted.

But there was no way, with the amount of time we have to spend together, that he wasn’t going to witness something. It was inevitable. And I could curse myself for getting drunk, but really, letting go felt good. I won’t punish myself for it.