He tightens his finger on the wheel and it makes the bones in his forearms flex. “I went to someone’s house, then I had to go to the marina.”
I don’t know what marina he’s talking about. There are lakes dotted all up and down the Blue Ridge Mountains. But I don’t think the exact location is the important part.
“Okay.” I take a breath. My heart beats fast because we’ve never discussed anything I’m about to ask out loud. “Were you…dealing?” Is that even the word to use? Is there some slang I don’t know? The only drugs I’ve done are pot and appetite suppressants. Marijuana makes my heart race and so does the other, actually. I try to stay away from both now.Try,anyhow.
He shakes his head once but he doesn’t correct my word choice or tell me to stop asking questions.
“Whose house was it?” I wonder if I want to know even as I ask. What if he was with some girl? I’d rather be ignorant.
“Someone I…work with.” The shadow on his face as he makes a turn gives him an otherworldly glow. There’s all kinds of superstition in the mountains, particularly when it comes to the woods at night. He looks like something who might whistle back if you were out there.
I bring my feet up to his seat and wrap my arms around myself as I look at the desolate road. I can feel his eyes on me but he doesn’t tell me to put my feet down. Besides, I’d already kicked off my heels when I got in here.
“Why did you have to leave their house to go to the marina?” I press, my voice a whisper. It feels like we’re treading dangerous water here but I couldn’t say why.
“Something bad happened at the house.” He makes another turn, and we’re on my road, but the house is at the end. There are a few other two-story brick homes out here, and forest on one side of the street. I glance at my neighbors’ houses and don’t feel any comfort. Not right now.
“Okay.” I take a breath. “But why didn’t you just go home?” I feel shaky as my heart races and none of the vodka or wine cooler are doing me any bit of good right now.
“Sloane.” He drives slower and no one else is on the road. He said my name like he was desperate, but I don’t know what for.
“Tell me.” I don’t look at him as my house comes into view. Southern brick, two stories, white window sills, a two-car garage. I know it’ll be empty with Mom and Dad gone, and only Henry’s Sentra is in the driveway. There aren’t any lights on. Behind the house is a gated yard, an inground pool we all begged for when we were younger, and past that, trees and hills. I spent all the years between middle school and high school graduation in that house. Over half of them I hid in my room with my fingers in my ears or my music turned up high to drown out the sounds of fighting. The other half, I tried not to be home.
Storm stops in the road, right before my driveway.
I feel him staring at me and I have the urge to duck my head and hide.
“The bad thing that happened at my friend’s house…it had to be dealt with. At the marina.”
No.
No, no, no.
I don’t believe it, the conclusion racing through my brain. There’s just no way. I don’t watch much television but I know enough about what marinas could be used for to “deal” with something bad that happened.
It’s not possible though.
Storm and Cortland both faced nearly a decade in prison because of what they did to Remi. The case was dismissed and it never went to trial, but surely, they haven’t forgotten how the possibility felt? Then again, allegedly he set someone’s house on fire who fucked with Remi in the aftermath. But she’s never seemed scared of him, not since she’s been with Cortland. Andmaybe Storm deals, but okay, like, giving a gram of weed to a kid at Ely U? So what? That’s nothing, right? Or maybe it is, I don’t know what a gram means in jail time, if anything at all, but it’s not even close compared to what he’s suggesting. Clearly, I’m thinking one thing and another thing is what actually happened.
Storm hasn’t turned into my driveway.
But no one is coming up behind us and we can see the house so Henry is safe and I doubt he’s looking outside anyway or even expecting me there at all anymore. A tug of guilt pulls at my gut and I know I should’ve come sooner and I was so caught up in Dax and the feel of his hands on me, then there was the shit with Storm and… We are so not good for each other, but at least I’m not a criminal. I have to keep this all away from my brother. He’s got two years left in this house. If Storm is into heavy crime, that’s two years Henry could be used as a pawn if I’m linked to Storm.
“You don’t want me to tell you after all, huh?” Storm’s voice sounds broken.
I stare ahead, unable to meet his eye. But there’s something in his tone that pulls at me. I shouldn’t want to know, not now. I should’ve never asked in the first place.
But despite the ways I want to keep my brother safe, I’m not a coward. I’m already in the car with him tonight anyway. I can’t undo that part.
“I’m not afraid of what you’ve done.” It takes everything in me to keep my words full of conviction. To make sure my voice doesn’t shake.
“I think you’ll change your mind soon enough. Your heaven doesn’t belong in my hell.”
I spin in my seat, my eyes locking onto his as I unravel my arms and clench my fists in my lap. “Tell me what you did and stop being such a pussy about it.”
He raises his brows, a small smile playing on his lips.
I’m not smiling but I am blushing.
