My horse is as itchy to run as I am, and he lets me know, stomping impatiently.
Flynn stands in front of my horse, petting his mane. He looks up at me and I see his cheeks are red as well. “I was hoping that would make you stay,” he says. “Sometimes it feels like…” He shakes his head, averting his eyes, and rubs King’s nose.
“Feels like what?” Suddenly I’m getting pissed and I’m not sure exactly why, but my defenses are up and on high alert.
“Do you love me? Like I love you, I mean.” Flynn focuses his attention on Kingston as if he can’t stomach to look at me right now.
I can tell there’s something else he wants to say. And I think I know what it is. Just like always, my mind flips to Benji. I see the memory of him as if he’s here right now. I see his golden brown eyes as he leaned in toward me. I feel the jump in my stomach as I realized he was actually about to kiss me. I recall the way his eyes closed and his dark lashes curled at the ends, casting shadows on his lightly freckled cheeks. I feel his lips on mine like it’s happening right here, right now, at this very moment. I feel of his hands. His body pressed to mine.
I blink rapidly, pulling myself from the past. These memories of Benji are burning a whole into my heart. How long can a person go on missing someone so strongly before the ache consumes them?
I focus on Flynn, trying to remember his question. Love, that’s what it was about. And I do love Flynn. He’s been my constant for a long time. There’s definitely a physical chemistry between us. But am I in love with him? I don’t know. Is he the only one I love? No, he’s not. I push these thoughts from my head, too, for no other reason than they’re too painful to contemplate.
“Of course I love you. You’re my boyfriend.”
“And I’m your boyfriend because I’m the one who’s here,” he murmurs. I can hear the bitterness in his voice. I want to be angry, but I can’t. Because he’s right. If Benji hadn’t been dragged off by his mom three years ago, I’d be with him, and Flynn would still just be a friend. He’s been so patient with me. We’ve been together for two years, and I’m all right with the physical aspect of our relationship—more than all right, but I have always had a hard time letting him get too close to me emotionally. Sometimes I want to, but something inside of me pulls away from him. Every. Single. Time.
He’s not Benji. And he never will be.
“I love you, Flynn. I do. I’m trying to be better. I will be better. I just need time.”
“I gave you time.” He closes his eyes tightly, his face etched with agony. It makes my hands tremble and my chest ache. He shakes his head. “It’s your birthday. Go take your ride.” He opens his eyes, but still doesn’t allow them to meet mine.
Part of me knows I don’t deserve him. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. And I am. I feel bad for causing him pain, but I can’t feel bad for loving someone else. I hate that I’ve carried it all this time and Flynn’s the one who suffers, but I’m not sorry for how I feel about Benji.
I click my tongue and my horse shuffles his legs. Flynn moves out of the way and I walk Kingston out of the barn. When I’m past the house, I drop low and push him into a run. The wind feels good against my heated skin. The stars are shining dots of silver in the sky. The moon’s hiding behind a thick patch of clouds, casting dark shadows. I don’t get the chance to ride at night often, but I love it. I stay out for a good half hour, exercising King. I run him through the pasture, past the school, and over the hill toward town.
I can see the lights from businesses up ahead, so I turn around at the last second and head home. When I get back, Flynn is gone. Kameron’s still at the house helping Mom with the clean up. I watch them through the window as I brush my fingers through my colt’s fine mane. He nibbles at my hair and I turn my face to him. He pulls his lips back in his own version of a smile and I put my head to his. “I wish I were a horse.”
~*~
“Try it on,” Kameron says on a sigh as I hold the dress in front of the mirror for the fifth time since we’ve retreated to my room. She’s drunk already, her speech slurred, her eyes hooded. I drop the dress on the bed and pull my shirt over my head.
“Your skeleton is showing, Briar. You’re so skinny I can see your ribs.”
I hurry to put the dress on, feeling self-conscious from her inebriated scrutiny. I know she isn’t trying to be hurtful, but when Kam drinks, her mental filter seems to disappear. “I can’t help it, you know?” I hiss at her.
“Yes you can,” she snorts as she twists a curl around her finger distractedly. “It’s because you never eat. You’re always out there with…” She wiggles her fingers at the window, searching for the word. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so annoying. “Those horses,” she continues. “Or cropping the cornfields. And I know that isn’t easy work.”
“I eat,” I say when she raises an eyebrow. “It’s just sometimes I don’t realize how long I’ve been in the barn. But it’s not like I’m starving.” I pinch the skin on my arm right in front of her face. There is plenty of meat on it. She pushes me away and stands up, looking over my shoulder at our reflections in the mirror. Hers curvy and sexy, mine failing in comparison.
“You’re going to start losing your boobs,” she states seriously. She reaches around me and cups my chest, shaking my breasts in a way that would freak out anybody else. She’s been feeling me up for as long as we’ve been friends—I’m sadly used to this now.
“Look at you and look at me. I’m a healthy weight. You’re getting close to making a trip to Anorexia’s Anonymous.” She jabs her fingers into my sides and I squeal. I poke her right back. Kam is way more ticklish than me and I easily make her my bitch. She squirms and screams before falling to the floor in a giggling heap.
Kameron grabs my hand and tugs me down to the carpet with her. She runs her fingers through my hair. “You’re beautiful, but I’m really starting to worry about you.” Her smile fades and her eyes tear with the sudden sadness only a drunk girl can produce.
“I’m fine, I swear. I’ll eat more, I promise.” I hope she drops it. I don’t need yet another reason to feel inadequate.
“Briar, is it because of him? Is that why you don’t eat?” Shiny eyes peer into mine with legitimate concern, forcing me to drop my head.
“Kam, you are seriously making such a big deal out of this when there’s nothing there. I get too busy sometimes taking care of the horses or working in the field, and I forget a meal. I’ll work on it.”
“What I mean is, is that all this is? You aren’t like, depressed?” She says the last word like a dirty little secret, her voice dropping and eyes widening.
I sigh. “I am, but I don’t know how not to miss him. I thought it would get easier. But it just…doesn’t.” Neither of us needs to say Benji’s name. We both know who we’re talking about. He’s the only one who has this effect on me. I shake my head. “But I’m not so sad I can’t eat. I love you for worrying about me, but you need to quit. I’ve always been skinny. It’s just the way my body is. And when you make a big deal out of it, it makes me feel like shit.”
She nods. “Okay. I’m sorry. But if you lose any more weight, I will bring it up again. To your parents if I have to.”
I understand the threat. Even though I’m an adult, I still live under their roof. I love my parents and have an unusually good relationship with them, but that doesn’t mean I want them up my ass over this. I nod and shove her sideways. “Flynn likes my skinny ass, you know?”
“That’s because the boy is stupidly crazy about you.” She huffs out a long breath and shakes her head sadly. “I am forever alone and you just go through the boys like underwear.”
“Whatever. He’s my first real boyfriend and you get asked out all the time.”
Kam raises that brow again. “I get asked out by losers who want to take me to the back of their trucks for some sexy time. And Flynn may be your first official boyfriend because you and Benji never named it, but everyone knew you belonged to him.”
Belonged? Somehow, the word seems wrong. No, the word is right. It’s the past tense that isn’t accurate. I always have and always will belong to Benjamin Borelli.
2
Benji
My mom’s dead.
She’s dead.
The doctor said it was a drug overdose, but I’m pretty God damn sure she was murdered.
It’s fucking real. She’s gone. Taken away. And I don’t know how the hell I feel about it. I don’t know how I feel about anything.
I slam my fist into the wall of my shitty bedroom. I probably shouldn’t call it that. There’s no bed. Nothing that makes it mine. Just a mattress on the floor in the corner. A box flipped upside down to act as a makeshift nightstand. The little amount of clothes I own are piled in a heap in the opposite corner.
This is my life.
And then I laugh.
No. This isn’t my life. Not anymore. Mom’s gone. I don’t have to be here anymore. I’m finally free.
Finally fucking free.
But that’s an even bigger joke. I’ll never be free. I followed in her footsteps and lost who I really am 180 miles away where I left my heart. I may be free of my mom, but I’m trapped in this shadow. This monster’s grip. This addiction.
I’m a tourist in my own life.
A prisoner to Delphi.
I never should have gone to work for him. I should have found another way, but it seemed so simple at the time. And tempting. The drugs, the money. It was all right there at my fingertips.
This was back before I understood what a sadistic bastard Delphi really is. Now it’s too late. It’s too late for my mom, too late for me. He’ll kill off every single person I care about just to prove he can. I took what was his and he’ll never forgive that. Not when it can destroy everything he’s built. The twisted prick enjoys hurting people who cross him.
I once watched Delphi stab a woman in the hand for reaching over his plate. It was her first offense and he didn’t hesitate. He brought his steak knife down into her flesh, pinning her hand to his dinner as if it were an everyday occurrence. After the second time she pissed him off, I never saw her again. I heard stories of her demise and I guess my mom got off easy in comparison. At least she went out doing something she loved.
I know I can’t let him get away with this. Delphi needs to pay for what he did. And I need to prevent him from doing it ever again. So I sit here, alone, forming a plan that will either end me or Delphi. Or the both of us.
I watch the drywall dust float through the stream of light. And then my body follows it to the floor. My head thumps the wooden doorframe as I bury my hands in my hair, tugging roughly.
I miss her.
Not my mom.
Her.
I haven’t spoken her name since the day I left. And I swore I wouldn’t speak it until I saw her again.
There are some people who come into your life and touch you—your heart, your whole existence. They make it better just by being there. Just by breathing their same air. And if you’re really lucky, you become a better person, too.
That’s her.
My best friend. My first love.
Hell, my only love.
I’ve never known anyone like her. No matter how many places I’ve been, how many people I’ve met, how many faces I’ve seen, nobody compares. Nobody else has ever even come close.
When I think of that little farmhouse and the memories I made there, it’s not the house that makes me homesick. It’s her. Always her.
It’s her birthday.
It’s my mom’s death day.
And I’m alone.
3
Briar
I wake up tangled in my blanket. My hair is stuck to my face, smothering me. The room is way too warm and I’m sweating like I just ran a marathon, which is laughable since I do not run. I squirm out of bed groggily, and go to the kitchen to get a drink of water, hoping to sooth my dry throat. As I turn the faucet on, a light illuminates the window next door. In Benji’s house. It’s not his house anymore, and I guess it never really was, but that’s how I’ve always thought of it.
I can see Mr. Borelli, Benji’s grandpa. He’s pacing the kitchen floor, a worried scowl furrowing his brow. His granddaughter—and Benji’s sister—sits at the table, her head in her hands. She looks like she’s crying. My throat tightens, adding to the dryness, and I feel like I’m choking. Fear makes my hands shake and I lose my grip on the glass. It falls into the sink, shattering. Mr. Borelli stops stalking his floor and glances out his window. His eyes land on me, holding my gaze for only a moment before his pacing resumes once again.
“What happened?” Dad asks, his voice raspy from sleep, making it several octaves lower and scaring the hell out of me. He rubs his eyes as he scuffles over to stand next to me, his robe string trailing behind.
“Sorry. I dropped a glass.”
“Briar, your hand.” Dad’s more alert now, flipping the light above the sink on and pulling a small shard of glass from my palm. He moves my hand under the still running water to rinse the blood away, examining it closely and verifying there’s no more glass.
“Something’s happening.” I nod my head at the window. “Do you think…?” I can’t finish the sentence—I don’t even want to finish the thought. The words are choked off by the dread smothering me. If something happened to Benji…
Dad stares at Mr. Borelli’s house for several heartbeats before turning his attention to me. His brow crinkles. “No. I’m sure he’s fine, honey.” I look back to Benji’s sister, Payton. She’s still crying. Dad turns off the water and wraps my hand in a towel. “You need to put a Band-Aid on this before you go back to bed.”
In my room, I superstitiously peek out my window, first at Benji’s old room, which is dark. Then my eyes flick to our clothesline. I hadn’t really expected there to be a note from him, but as my heart aches, I realize I had let myself, just for a second, hope.
And hope can be dangerous.
I close the curtains and climb into bed, pulling the blankets tightly around me despite the heat.
Sleep refuses to comfort me. Instead, my brain decides to relive the painful moments from my past. Though I try to push the memory away, it replays in my head on a loop. I recall the way I was waiting for Benji, sitting on the porch swing and using the tip of my shoe to push myself back and forth.
The wind was blowing gently across my face and it smelled like sun, and hose water, mixed with the scent of freshly cut grass. The fragrance of summer. Benji came around the side of the house and as soon as I saw the look on his face, I knew something was wrong. The sunshine hit the highlights in his light brown hair, turning it nearly red. His eyes glowed more gold than brown as they too caught the light. The couple of freckles stood out on his nose in contrast to the unnatural paleness of his skin.
“What’s wrong?” My voice was so quiet, I barely heard myself. I stood up and Benji froze. My body went frigid in response.
“I’m leaving,” he said quickly, a confession bursting from his lips.
“Oh, all right,” I stammered in confusion.
Benji bounded up the stairs, stopping right in front of me. His hand twitched and I realized he was trying not to touch me. But I wanted him to touch me. I took a step closer to him, only our shoes making contact, but I could feel the heat from his skin. His breath fanned my hair as he panted—not winded, but in anticipation of whatever he needed to say. I looked up at him and hesitantly reached out to brush my fingers over his face—a calming gesture—half expecting him to pull away from me. When he didn’t, I let my palm cup his cheek, slide along his neck, and trail down his arm before finally finding his hand. I held tight.
“What’s going on?”
His Adam’s apple bounced in his throat as he swallowed. “My grandpa kicked Mom out. I’m leaving. Mom wants to move to California,” he whispered. “She wants to get as far away as possible.”
I wanted to push him, to tell him to stop playing such a shitty joke, but the
look in his eyes assured me of how serious he was. And all I could think was…This can’t be happening.
I dropped his hand. “Don’t go.” I shook my head in desperation. “Don’t go.” I said again. “You can stay with me. My parents love you. They’ll let you stay, I know it.” Benji had lived next door to me my entire life. What was I supposed to do without him?
“Briar.” His voice was sharp with bitterness. His face twisted with so much emotion. “I want to, so badly. I swear. But I can’t. Payton’s staying with Grandpa, finishing her last year of college here. There will be nobody for Jaxon. I have to go. He can’t take care of himself, he’s only a kid.”
“He’s sixteen,” I snapped. “He can stay here too.”
He turned away, rubbing his hands over his face. “Then she’ll be alone. Who will take care of her?”
“She’s an adult. She can take care of her damn self,” I stated adamantly, but I knew it wasn’t true. Shelby had never taken care of herself. Not a day in her life. She never had to. There had always been someone there for her.
“I’m so sorry, Briar. Jax wants to go with her. He won’t stay and I can’t stay without him.”
“You’re choosing to leave me.” Even as I said the words, I knew how horrible it sounded. Of course he was choosing them over me. They were his family, even if they weren’t all ideal.
“I don’t want to,” he said, turning back to face me. “But that’s selfish. I have to be there for them. If I don’t go, and something happens…” He shook his head like he could shake away the thought. “I want to stay. I just can’t.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re still leaving.” Tears burned in my eyes. I knew if I let them fall he would feel horrible. Maybe even change his mind. I didn’t cry often and my tears had always been Benji’s Kryptonite. But when I saw his eyes fill with his own tears, I couldn’t do it. I spun on my heels and ran into the house, slamming the door behind me. When I was in the safety of my room, a sound ripped from my throat—raw and wild—and the tears fell with fury.