“Listen to me, sweetheart.” I cup his cheeks in my hands, holding him tightly with trembling hands. I’m scared of what this unleashed anger that he feels toward himself will cause him to do, and the thought of losing him creeps up into my mind, and just like a fucking leech, I can’t shake it off. “You’re not a fucking failure. You didn’t fail. You just didn’t know.”
He swallows, a cloud of rage falling over his features that shakes me to my core. I’ve never seen him so angry, and although it’s not directed toward me, I can’t help but feel like it should be.
“I didn’t know because I didn’t do all that I was supposed to do. I thought I’d have more time to tackle all of this one by one. I thought…” He trails off, eyes looking through me. “I thought all of it would work out in my favor. I’m such a fucking moron. Because she was alive yesterday, Blair. She was alive all these years, and instead of saving her from all the shit she’s been through, I was the one to kill her. Me. She died by my hands, and her blood is on me. Her death is on me.:”
I’m stunned into silence. His voice carries a range of emotions, from gut-wrenching grief, raw vulnerability to the simmering fire of anger that just needs a drop of oil to let it all burn. But his face truly scares me, because there’s nothing. The stoic expression feels like a punch to the gut.
My hands drop from his cheeks, and we sit in silence. The dimmed lights of the diner shine enough for me to look at him well, observing any changes in his demeanor. Soft music plays in the background, the volume lowered down, and the sound of cars outside is the only thing that manages to sneak in.
Abruptly, Arlo stands up, my eyes following his every move, watching him like a hawk. His shoulders are tense, his entire body rigid as he walks over to the bar, and that just makes me want to scream.
He reaches for a bottle of whiskey, takes the cap off, and takes a swig. His throat bobs when he swallows, and within an instant, half of the bottle is gone. He lowers it onto the bar, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, just staring through the big windows.
For a moment, I debate whether or not to reveal everything that Zoe — no, Luna — told me. But seeing him so broken, I know it would only add fuel to the fire, and it would hurt him even more. Right now, I decide that the conversation between us will be a secret I’ll take to the grave. No one else needs to know.
Luna’s phone weighs heavily in my pocket, like I’ve stolen the missing piece of Arlo’s puzzle. But I can’t give the device away; I can’t be that selfish. A little girl’s life is at stake, and as terrible as it may sound, her life is more important than Luna’s death at the moment.
The front door of the diner swings open, my eyes snapping to the right. Cove strolls inside, with Aria following silently behind him. Both of them read the thick tension in the room, and neither of them wants to be the first one to speak.
“What do you want?” Arlo’s deep voice pierces through the silence, eyes glued on his best friend. He takes another big swing of the whiskey, not once looking away from Cove.
“Come with me,” Cove says. The simple words cause Arlo’s jaw to twitch, and he slams the bottle down onto the bar. I flinch at the outburst and steadily rise from my seat.
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Get out,” Arlo grits out, his hand tightening around the bottle.
Cove doesn’t waste a single second. He approaches Arlo,his steps filled with purpose. He glances at me, though momentarily, before his attention shifts back to Arlo. He grabs his arm, then yanks him out of the bar.
Just as I’m about to jump in and at least try to intervene, Aria’s hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Don’t,” she whispers in my ear. “Let Cove handle this.”
“Let go, you motherfucker.” Arlo tries to wiggle out of Cove’s firm grip, but given the amount of alcohol he has in his system, it’s difficult to overpower him. Cove takes the opportunity to whack the back of Arlo’s head and drag him out of the diner.
“Blair,” Aria’s voice breaks me out of the trance. “Sit. We need to talk.”
I sit back down, almost automatically, at the sound of her serious voice. She slides into the seat across from me, and a little bit of relief washes over me. She’s looking better and better with each day, and I’m glad at least one of us is getting well.
“What is it?”
“I’ll cut right to the chase,” she says, then clears her throat. “You’re the only one sane right now. Well, half-sane.”
The notion makes me want to laugh. The fact that she thinks I’m the only sane one here, without knowing the war that’s waging inside of me, is amusing. Though, I don’t want to crush her spirit, and I’m rather curious to know where she’s going with this.
“Sure, let’s put it like that. Go on.”
“I barely remember Luna,’’ she sighs, leaning back and staring off into the distance. “I just remember she’d play dolls with me from time to time. Her disappearance truly shook our family. Arlo remembers her more because, at some point, the two were partners in crime. But I don’t remember her. I’m mourning the death of my family member, but I didn’t know her. What happened is absolutely tragic, and I’ll always regret not being able to do more to help Arlo find her sooner.’’
“Where are you going with this?”
She sucks in a deep breath, straightening up in her seat and looking right into my eyes. “That being said, I’m keeping my head in the game. Arlo is a fucking mess, Dad’s in prison, and Mom’s in a coma. He needs you now, more than ever. Hell, you need each other. But more importantly, I’ll need your help.’’
A frown etches on my face, brows narrowing together. I fold my arms in front of my chest, trying to understand what she wants. “How could I possibly help you?”
“Your main priority will be making sure Arlo gets the help he needs.”
