"Quiet, he'll hear you," Lily said.
"So what? I only said he's handsome. I'm sure he's aware, right?"
"Yes and no," Lily whispered brokenly.
"What does that mean?" the other woman demanded.
"I'll tell you once he's taken care of," Lily said. Why did she sound so sad?
I drifted away again, only momentarily. "Dangerous?" I heard Lily ask.
"Yes, the handsome ones are always the most dangerous," the woman muttered.
"He's not dangerous," Lily said.
"That's what you think now."
I floated closer to the surface, trying once more to pull myself from the drugging grip of sleep. Trying. Failing. Falling back down, down, down. Lily. I heard Lily's voice again, scattered words, but couldn't string them together.
I came to and the light beyond my closed lids was different. How much time had passed? "Lily," I croaked, grasping on to the one word that made me want to fight to come awake, try to open my eyes. The light was too bright, though, and I clenched them shut. "I tried to get to you, I tried so hard . . ."
"Shush. Lily's not here, but she'll be back shortly. Just rest. You almost killed yourself, but Lily brought you here. You're safe now."
I fell back to sleep, my last thought being that I'd been abducted by a witch.
When I woke again, I was in a tub of water in front of a fire. "Are you cooking me?" I asked dazedly, not sure I cared.
"Your muscles were seizing," came the female voice. "Hot water will help. How long have you been addicted to pain medication?"
I laid my head back, her question causing me to try to use my brain. It felt all muddled. I brought my hands up and used the heels of my hands to massage my temples. "Not that long. A couple months."
The woman snorted. "That's plenty long enough."
"How did you know?"
The woman paused for a moment. "I just do."
"How'd I end up here?"
"You threw yourself right off a cliff I guess."
That didn't feel right. I searched my memory. "No, I didn't," I said. "I tripped."
"Okay. Well, your finger is broken and your ribs are bruised. You're lucky that's the extent of the damage. You were also dangerously dehydrated."
I opened my eyes as her footsteps came closer, and she stoked the fire. An old woman with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a face that was still lovely despite her advanced age. She vaguely resembled Lily.
"Who are you?" I asked. "Where's Lily's mother?"
"That's nothing for you to concern yourself with. You have enough problems of your own. Focus on getting better." I cringed from a muscle spasm in my calf.
I waited for more, but she didn't offer it. My brain was still foggy, and my body felt like a dead weight. I decided not to press the issue. "Lily?" I asked.
"I sent her away for a little while. Detoxing is messy and involves lots of personal bodily functions. I didn't believe you'd want her cleaning you up."
I grimaced. No, I didn't. "Thank you," I said. "Thank you for that." I felt grateful to this woman for giving me that small dignity.
She shrugged. "The worst of that is over, I think."
"How long have I been here?" I asked, sinking more deeply into the hot water. It felt so good. I opened my eyes long enough to glance around. The room looked like an old library, with an ornate, marble fireplace taking up a large portion of one wall, bookshelves filled with books all along the others, and a sitting area right behind the tub.
"Four days." Four days. Four days of no pills. A surge of pride ran down my spine. The worst was over. It must be.
"When will she be back?" I asked.
The woman paused, not looking at me, still stoking the fire. "Tonight. Are you hungry?" I considered her question, realizing I actually was.
"I think I could eat. Maybe I should. Maybe that'd be good."
She handed me a towel and looked away but didn't seem embarrassed by this situation. I thought maybe she was uncomfortable with me being there in general, though I wasn't sure why. My brain was still so foggy, and I was disoriented. I stood up slowly, using the towel to cover myself, and stepped gingerly out of the tub onto the faded Oriental rug on the floor. I wrapped the towel around my waist. "How'd you get me into this tub?"
"You walked. I just supported you. The fogginess should start diminishing now that you're moving around. And your clothes are in that bedroom." She pointed to an open door.
I nodded and walked toward it. My legs felt like they weighed ten tons each. It took all my energy to pull on my clothes. The woman brought me to the sitting area, and bending over a coffee table in front of the small couch, I ate some kind of vegetable stew filled with potatoes and a thick, rich broth. It was delicious and I'd have eaten more if I had the strength. I drank two glasses of water and could barely keep my eyes open.
The woman helped me back to the small bedroom where I'd changed my clothes and this time, I took a moment to look around. It had a twin bed in the corner and a dresser against the wall. There were personal knickknacks everywhere—a pink stone that was so smooth it looked like it'd been polished that way, a bird's nest, feathers of all colors and sizes, a basket full of pine cones, even a small, chipped arrowhead . . . things from the forest. "This is Lily's room, isn't it?"
As I walked past her, the woman nodded and inclined her head toward the bed, telling me to get in. I wasn't going to argue. I'd just sleep for a little while and be awake when Lily got back. "Thank you," I murmured, not turning around. "Thank you for helping me." The woman didn't reply. I only heard the click of the door being shut. I undressed quickly and climbed into bed. The pillow smelled like Lily. I fell asleep immediately, only coming to momentarily when I heard hushed arguing on the other side of the door. I could only make out Lily's words.
“You don’t know that. You don't know unless . . .”
“. . . there must be a way.” Quiet weeping.
“I can be. I can be what he needs.”
More weeping.
Lily.
I tried to pull myself fully out of sleep, pull myself toward her, but couldn't.
I dreamed of Ryan. He came to me through the fog, speaking to me, reminding me, telling me his story because I'd forgotten. Oh God, I'd forgotten. No, I hadn't forgotten. I hadn't wanted to hear. I'd shut it out, abandoned him. Abandoned myself. Yes, I'd abandoned myself. Because I'd thought I deserved it.
My best friend held out his hand to me and I gasped, the image becoming clearer and clearer as he moved closer. I wanted to look away in shame and an overwhelming sense of . . . fear. I was going to be lost, alone. But he was smiling, and he looked . . . happy. "Forgive me," I choked.
"There's nothing to forgive. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault," he said. "I did what I was meant to do in this life. It's time to let me go now." No, no, no, no.
I woke up with tears on my face and warm arms wrapped around me. "Shh," she crooned. "I'm here. I'm right here."
"Lily," I choked out, burrowing my head into her chest. "Oh God, Lily." She held me as I cried, held me as it all came back. She was my strength as the truth dragged me under. When the final sobs wracked my body, I tipped my head back and looked up into her sweet, gentle face. She brushed the hair back from my forehead and kissed my cheeks tenderly. There was so much understanding in her expression. "Do you know about me? Do you know?" I asked.
She nodded slowly and then kissed me again. "Yes, love."
I moved my eyes over her face, trying to read her expression, trying to understand what she felt for me now that she knew. I didn't know what I felt for me now that I knew.
"It shattered me, Lily. Losing him, it," I took a big shuddery breath, "it shattered me."
"I know, Boy Scout, I know."
And it sounded as if she did. "He was the other half of me."
She shook her head. "No, he was your best friend. You're a whole man. You're not half of anyone."
Her face was so beautiful, so sorrowful, so
filled with compassion. It was all too much, too much. I grimaced from the pain in my head. "No, I'm not a whole man. Maybe you don't even know me. Do you feel that way? You must."
"No," she said softly, and then with more force, "no. I know your superpower is flying." She smiled. "And I know you like football, and Star Wars, and jazz music, the old kind." Her fingers skated down my cheek, and I leaned in to them. "I know you like comic books, and museums, and fireworks, and travel. If I cooked for you, I'd make you pancakes even if it was midnight, and then I'd take you to a movie in an empty theater on a Tuesday, in a snowstorm. And then," her voice grew even quieter, "we'd come home, and you'd make love to me so sweetly I'd want to cry and sing at the same time. I know you're kind and good and that you love people with your entire heart and mind. I know that when you love someone, you'll love them forever. Are all those things true, Boy Scout?" Her fingers found the scars on my back and traced them lightly, lovingly, her fingertips finding the small, scattered divots.
"Yes," I breathed. "Yes, Lily," I murmured. It was the only thing in me right then. Only her. Only how much I loved her.
Under the blankets, Lily's hand roamed across my hip, her fingernails raking softly down my outer thigh. I shivered, hardening. Her smell, the soft feel of her was all around me, and I needed her so desperately. I needed her to remind me that I was real.
"Lily," I whispered again, my own hands roaming her body now. She was only wearing her bra and underwear and she quickly removed them, helping me take off my boxers. My body hurt, felt bruised all over, but I didn't care. Her lips found mine and I sighed, tasting her, basking in the comfort of her mouth on mine, her tongue tangled with my own. Moaning softly, she gripped me in her hand and stroked me several times until I was throbbing. She positioned her hips and guided me inside her under the blankets. I moaned at the soft, wet grip of her flesh around my own. "Oh," I moaned. "Oh God." Lily moaned, too, as our lips met. This was relief. This was heaven. Warm under the blankets, a safe haven, my body connected to Lily's as we moved together, seeking to find comfort in each other's bodies.
Minutes later, we came together, gripping one another and both crying out as softly as possible. We kept kissing for long minutes as we came back down to earth, Lily smiling softly against my mouth. I wanted to fall asleep again. Making love to Lily had zapped the very last of my energy. Despite her smile, a tear rolled down her cheek. "You know you don't need me anymore, right?" A numb sort of panic arced through me.
"No, no, I'll always need you. Always. I'll always love you." Why did it sound as if she was saying goodbye? I struggled to think. And I was still so tired . . . so very, very tired. I still felt like a ten-ton boulder was sitting on my head. It hurt to think.
Her expression was sad. "No, you need to go get your life back, Boy Scout. You're strong enough now." I tried to keep my eyes open—to keep them on her—but my lids were so heavy. I wondered blearily if the woman who'd cared for me had given me something to make me sleep.
"I'll always love you, Boy Scout. Always." It was the last thing I heard before sleep claimed me once again, stealing me from Lily's arms.
**********
"Hey, buddy, you awake? Wake up, man." I blinked, grimacing against the bright light coming in through the window. Squinting, I opened my eyes, adjusting to the light.
"Brandon?" I asked, my voice gravelly.
"Yeah, it's me. How are you? Jesus, you look like you've been beaten up."
I sat up slowly, looking around. I was in bed at the lodge. I scratched my head, things slowly falling into place inside my head. How had I gotten here? I'd been in bed with Lily. How in the world had Lily and the other woman gotten me back to the lodge? I took a few more minutes, just staring into space as all the pieces came together . . . thinking about everything that had happened since I'd been here. I looked down at my naked chest, bandages wrapped around my torso. There were large black and blue bruises everywhere, a few just turning a sickly yellow. My ribs still ached. A good portion of me still ached. My finger was in a splint and wrapped with bandages as well. Inhaling a sharp breath, the weight of it all—everything I'd experienced, everything I'd realized—crushing my chest. I leaned back against the headboard, gripping my hair with my good hand. "Where's Lily?"
Brandon frowned, sitting down at the end of the bed. "Lily?"
"You haven't seen her?" I asked, pulling myself up just a little bit more. "I just can't figure out how they got me back here." I still felt groggy, but my body felt decent, and my mind was mostly clear, or clearing anyway. Clearer than it'd been in months. I thought about the rooms I'd been in. My God, I'd been at Whittington. The height of the ceilings, the way the paint had been peeling on the walls, the similarity to the pictures I'd looked at online. I didn't understand why Lily had brought me to an abandoned hospital, why she had a room set up there, but . . . "She must have gone back. I have to go find her." I sighed, closing my eyes again, gathering the strength to get out of bed.
"Okay, but wait, I . . ." He pursed his lips, his expression worried. "Things went well for you here? You're feeling better? Taylor finally ’fessed up that she came out here. Sorry about that, by the way. But she said you were still acting a little strange."
"Yeah, I was I guess. I didn't exactly expect to see her." I sighed. "But I'm feeling better now. I don't know. I just need to see Lily."
"But you're clear, right?" He eyed me. "You know your name, don't you? You know why you're here?"
My eyes met his. I did. Oh God. Oh God, it hurt. "Yes," I said, my voice wobbly. "Yes, my name is Ryan. Ryan Ellis."
He released a relieved breath. "And you know that Holden—"
"Holden is dead, I know," I said, an intense ache gripping my chest. My shoulders began to shake. "I know. Yes, I know it all now. I remember. I know."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"What are you doing out here all alone? The party's inside," Holden slurred, weaving slightly before falling down in the chair next to mine and running his hand through his short, dark hair.
I took a sip of my beer and glanced over at him. Despite being drunk, he looked miserable. He always looked miserable lately. "I needed some quiet," I said. "I guess I'm just not in the party mood."
"When are you ever in the party mood?"
I raised my beer to him in agreement. "Not often." But I'd come tonight to look out for Holden. He seemed to want to mess his life up these days. As if he was going out of his way to fuck up.
He made a sound of annoyance. "Taylor's looking for you. Pretty sure she wants you, man."
She did. She'd made that plenty clear. "Not interested. Taylor's a bitch only interested in her own status. I don't know why you went out with her at all."
"She's good in bed."
"I'm sure she is. She gets plenty of practice."
Holden gave a short laugh that died on his lips.
"What's the plan, Holden?" I asked, staring over at him. He knew what I was asking.
His head fell back on the chair. "My plan is to be amazing and awesome," he said dully, delivering the line he'd used so many times. Until recently, it had been said with humor and vibrancy. It used to make me smile.
"You used to be amazing and awesome all the time," I said, clearing my throat. My voice sounded scratchy. Now he was just . . . sad. Why? Why was he so fucking sad?
"How about we get out of here?" I asked. "Away from all these people. I'll treat you to some breakfast. Denny's? Moons Over my Hammy?"
"You're the one who likes breakfast for dinner. And you just like saying Moons Over my Hammy."
I gave him a wan smile. It was true, I did. Best breakfast name ever. "What's not to like about breakfast for dinner?"
He shrugged, looking genuinely confused. "I don't know. It's like I can't find it in me to like anything these days."
"That's the pills, Holden. You've gotta get off the pills. Your knee's been healed for months now."
"The pills might be the only things I actually do like."
 
; I pressed my lips together, at a loss. As I stood, I said, "Well, if you're not going to help yourself, Holden, there's nothing I can do for you." Feeling useless, I walked to the sliding glass door leading inside.
"Jesus, have you seen this sunset?" he asked.
I paused and glanced back. Holden had walked to the rail of the balcony. He looked . . . lost, yet eerily calm.
"I never fucking look at sunsets anymore. You ever just . . . enjoy something for the sake of it anymore, Ry?"
I released the door handle. "Yeah," I said. "I mean, I try."
He nodded. "That's good," he said, and I heard the tears in his voice. I went still. Was Holden crying? He leaned over the wrought-iron rail of the balcony. "It's so high up," he said, leaning even farther.
"Holden, what the fuck?"
"It's good to feel something, though, isn't it?" His voice was muffled and upside down.
I took a step toward him and in that moment, he flipped over the railing. "Holy fuck!" I shouted, lunging toward him. He let out a yell, grabbing one of the rail spindles, hanging by one hand. I went down on my knees and wrapped my hands around his. "Help!" I yelled behind me, "Help!" But the party inside was too loud. No one could hear me. "Don't let go, Holden." I was panting, my heart beating out of my chest in terror. "I'm going to stand up and lean over and I want you to grab my hand. Okay, Holden, grab my hand. I won't let you fall. I won't let you fall."
As I stood, my legs were shaking so badly, I could barely move. But I stood and I leaned over, holding my hand out to him. "Grab on," I choked out. "Grab my hand, Holden." His eyes were wild as he reached up and took my hand. I let out a whoosh of air, my heart hammering so hard. "Okay, okay, I've got you, okay? I'm going to pull you up now. Work with me, okay?" I started to pull him up, both my hands clasped around his, his other hand on the balcony. He suddenly let go of the ledge and only held on to me. I grunted with the sudden pull of holding over two hundred pounds of weight. My hands were shaking and my arms were throbbing. I couldn't even force out words.