Authors: Emma Hart
It’s been six months.
Twenty-six weeks. One hundred and eighty-two days. Two hundred and sixty-two thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four minutes. Or perhaps the most accurate; fifteen million, five hundred and fifty-two thousand seconds.
At least that’s how it feels. It feels like a short slice of forever since I last saw my brother, but I remember the moment he died like yesterday. It’s so clear, like I’m watching a movie play out in my mind. I remember the glare of headlights. The screech of the tires as the car swerved. My own ear-piercing scream as I watched it smash head on into a tree.
And the guilt. The guilt of not forcing him to get into Selena’s car instead of Stu’s. That’s almost as bad as the memory itself – knowing I could have prevented it if I hadn’t have let it go as easily as I always did.
Six months and it still hurts as much as it did then. I miss him as fiercely as I have every day since he died, and I know without a doubt whoever said time is a healer is a great big fucking liar. Nothing has healed;
I
haven’t healed. I’ve been broken, my heart ripped to pieces, alone in my grief and unable to explain to anyone how I feel.
So I don’t. I don’t explain, I don’t even try to, and I don’t feel. I block it out, knowing it exists but choosing not to acknowledge it.
If I didn’t, I’d lose whatever will is keeping me alive. I didn’t just lose my brother that night. I lost a part of my very soul.
The vodka burns my throat as it goes down. It settles into a warm pool in my belly, and I savor that feeling for a moment. It’ll be gone as quickly as it came, a fleeting spark of happiness. I eye the bottle, wondering if I can get away with another one before Selena finds me.
And she will. She’ll know exactly where I’ve disappeared to… To the place she can’t keep her eyes on me.
“How many have you had?”
I sigh. “Two.”
“Bullshit, Roxy.” My blonde-haired best friend steps in front of me, her hands on her hips. “How. Many?”
“Four,” I lie for the second time. “I promise.”
She scrutinizes me with her brown eyes, flicking them from my face to the bottle behind me. “Hmm. Okay.”
“Don’t you trust me, Leney?” I smirk.
Her eyebrow shoots up. “About as much as I trust my sister with my make-up bag.”
“Ouch.” I put a hand to my chest. “That hurts.”
Selena snorts. “Spare me your dramatics, Roxy. You know I trust you with everything but the crap you keep putting in your body.”
“It’s just vodka.”
“And the rest.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“If you think I didn’t see you sneaking off with
Layla, you’re wrong.”
“Please.” I brush my hair back from my face and turn to pour a drink. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Look at me,” Selena demands.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I slam the bottle down over the music.
“If you didn’t take anything, you’ll turn your ass around and look at me.”
Fuck me.
“Fine.” I turn my face to her and look her in the eyes for a minute. “See? I didn’t take anything.” Tonight. Yet.
“Alright. I believe you. This time.” She sighs and takes the glass I offer her. “I just worry about you-”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all.” I take a drink. “You’re worried about my drinking, suspected drug use and relationships. My mom already gave me the grilling.
Again.
”
“Okay, as your best friend, you can hardly call what you have relationships.”
“No, you can.” My eyes scan the heaving room. “However short, they have all the ingredients. Attraction, want, and a mutual understanding of what’s expected. In this case, it’s nothing goes past one night. Hey – if they’re lucky, they might even get my name.”
Selena shakes her head, and I laugh.
“What? I might push the limits, but I’m always careful. I know I can get home safely if I’ve been drinking and I always use protection.”
“You’re a damn idiot, girl.”
“Probably. But at least I’m a sensible one.” I grin.
She runs her finger around the top of her glass. “Do you think he’d want to see you like this? Doing this to yourself?”
I freeze, every part of my body going cold. “I’m not doing anything to myself, and I’m sure as shit not talking about him tonight, Leney.”
I down the rest of my glass, the vodka stronger than the Red Bull, and push off from the table. My eyes fix on a broad-shouldered guy in the middle of the crowd, his short, light hair spiked up, and I move toward him, emotion rushing through my body.
Shit, Selena knows better than to mention my brother.
Someone grabs my hand, stopping me and spinning me round. I press up against a hard chest and look up.
“Olly.” My hand rests on his chest. “Can I help you?”
He looks down at my chest and back up. “Several ways.”
I slide my hand up his chest to his face, running my thumb along his jaw. He tilts his head down, his lips brushing across the pad of my thumb.
“Oh, sorry. You must have missed the rhetorical part of that question.” I smile sweetly, stepping back and breaking our contact. “Maybe some other time.”
“You’re a tease, Roxy Hughes.”
“Me? Never.” I glance over my shoulder and wink at him. I’ve barely taken five steps when I’m pulled into another chest. A very, very hard chest. My eyes flick upwards into a pair of bright blue ones I don’t recognize.
Oh.
That sure doesn’t happen often in Verity Point.
“Well, hello.” The words escape me.
“Hello,” he replies, his eyes skimming me appreciatively. “I’ve had the shittest night ever, so do me a favor and tell me you’re here alone.”
Okay, Mr. Terrible-Pick-Up line, usually you’d get your ass kicked down, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna walk away from someone this damn hot.
I run my eyes over his brown hair, his sharp features, his broad shoulders and toned biceps. “I was here alone.” I flick my hair over my shoulder and rest a hand on his waist. “Now I’m here with you. How does that sound?”
His lips curve to one side as his arm slides around my back, pulling me into him. “That sounds real good to me.”
The crowd suddenly closes in on us, my senior class a mass of grinding bodies. The mixture of probably too many shots, the pounding music, and the muscular body against mine becomes heady, and I let myself go.
My body moves with the guy’s, his hand trailing down my back to the curve of my ass and cupping it. My pelvis pushes into his, and as we move I feel him steadily get harder. And bigger.
Holy shit.
His growing erection pushes into my hip, and I resist the urge to lick my lips and leave the party already.
Damn, two out of three for one night won’t be bad. God knows Selena is on my case tonight, so it looks like whoever this guy is will have to be my drug of choice.
Just, for the love of God, let this guy know what he’s doing in bed. Please.
He dips his head towards mine, touching his lips to mine. They’re warm and probing, and he wastes no time slipping his tongue across the seam of my lips. My hand curls around his neck, pulling him closer to mine, and I open for him. Our tongues meet in an easy dance, stroking and searching the other’s mouth. I feel the familiar clenching and warming of my nether regions as I imagine what else he could do with that tongue, and I push my hips into him without realizing.
His lips leave mine, traveling along my jaw to my ear. “What’s your name?”
I laugh. “You don’t really need my name, do you?”
“Good answer.” He smiles against my hair, running a hand along my side and down to my thigh. His finger creeps under the hem of my skirt, tickling my bare skin. “In that case, I have a room at the B’n’B around the corner.”
“As long as we sneak in round the back,” I reply. “My Aunt owns that place.” And wouldn’t that be a sto
ry for the next family dinner?
“A girl who takes a risk,” he murmurs, looking at me. “I like that.”
I look up at him through my lashes. “That’s not all you’ll like.”
He grins like the cat who’s just got the cream and we step into the hall. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Give me two minutes.” I find Selena in the kitchen and tap her shoulder. “Hey, I’m leaving.”
“What…” Her eyes glance over my shoulder. “
Oh.
Okay, I guess. But text me later, promise?”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Leney. Okay, I promise to text you and tell you I’m not gagged and bound in a river somewhere.”
“You’re a bitch, Roxy.” She shakes her head. “Who is he?”
I walk backwards, my lips quirking. “I have no fucking idea.”
~
I ignore the pounding in my head as I sneak out of my house earlier than usual. In hindsight, maybe half a bottle of Jack with… whatever his name was… after we left the party wasn’t the best idea. Actually, no maybe about it. It definitely wasn’t the best idea, not when I know Mom is gonna give me another talk when I get home.
Verity Point is dead. At eight in the morning, everyone is still in bed. If it wasn’t a Saturday, I would be too. I’d be snuggled under my covers, either escaping in dreams or trapped by nightmares.
My feet drag, feeling as heavy as my head, as the big iron cast gate to the graveyard comes into view, just like they always do. I hesitate with every step I take. It’s point
less and unnecessary. My feet and I both know we’ll pass through the gate, follow the path, and sit in front of Cam’s grave like we do every Saturday morning. Like we have every Saturday since his funeral.
And we do. I slip through the open gate and take the path that leads to where he is. The branches of the trees lining the gravelly walk reach out over me, shading me from the rising summer sun and the heat it brings. The short walk is as full of heartache as always, and I still wonder if one day Cam will appear from behind the trees and tell me it was all a joke.
I hope he will. I hope the same way I once hoped he’d stop treating me like a little kid. I hope with everything I have, with all that I am. I hope one day I’ll wake up and it’ll all be a terrible dream. But I know it won’t happen… The same way he never stopped treating me like the six year old he wished I still was. I swallow and look up as I enter his section of the graveyard.
And stop, because for the first time, I’m not alone here.
Kyle.
Of course he’d be here – I knew he was coming home yesterday, so he would make Cam his first stop first thing. He’s crouched in front of the headstone, his face in his hands and his brown hair flopping over his fingers. I can almost taste the pain coming off of him, and it wraps around me, making me hurt even more. Me? I can deal with the pain of losing Cam, but I can’t deal with seeing Kyle suffer that same pain.
I wasn’t the only person to lose a part of myself that night.
My heart climbs into my throat, skipping almost painfully. And it’s wrong. So, so wrong, but it’s an automatic reaction to him. It’s the same reaction he’s elicited from me for the last four years – not that it matters, or even that anyone knows. I’m just Cam’s kid sister, and I always have been. I always will be, and I’ve accepted that. I just wish that acceptance would drown out the ever-present feelings I have for him, the ones that are roaring up even now. This time, though, the spikes of attraction are mixed with a hint of anger.
Anger because he wasn’t here then. He wasn’t there when Cam was dying in the hospital and he wasn’t here when he was being lowered into that goddamn hole.
He was the only person that could have made it easier to deal with losing my brother… But he wasn’t here. I needed him, and he was at the other end of the coast.
“Roxy.”
I blink, fighting back the burn in my eyes. “You weren’t here,” I say softly, a hint of accusation in my tone.
Kyle stands and runs a hand through his brown hair. “I know. I wish… I just…” He looks back at the gravestone for a second and sighs. “How are you?” His eyes rise to mine.
“I hope you don’t exactly expect me to answer that.” I walk toward the grave and stop next to him, staring at the
darkened inscription on the gray marble.
Cameron John Hughes.
His name is all I can look at. I don’t need to look at the dates or the eulogy saying how amazing he is. I know that already, and the date of his death is burned into my mind. January 10
th
.
“Rox…”
I shake my head. “Don’t. Don’t give me your sympathy, Kyle. Its six months too late.”
“I’d just gone back. I didn’t have the money for another flight.”
“We would have paid for you. Mom and Dad would have got you the ticket. You know that.” I drop to the ground, crossing my legs under me.
“They’d just lost their son. I wasn’t about to ask them to do that for me.” He sits down next to me, crossing his own legs and hooking his arms around them. The same way Cam used to sit.