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CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

CORTLAND

Chase

We’ll be there before you get there.

Brinklin

Yeah, because you drive like a dumbass.

Chase

You’re welcome.

Brinklin

If we don’t make it, it’s because Chase flipped the Mercedes.

Chase

At least I have a Mercedes to flip.

Storm

Stop fucking texting me.

I stare at my screen, waiting for Storm to get in the truck. We’re going to Grim Mountain tonight, because apparently, EU students descend to that place every fall. And it’s officially fall.

Today.

Which means it’s Remi’s birthday. And this is a bye week. I’d planned to have her come with me to Grim. She loved being outdoors. In nature. It was one of many things I loved about her. Mention camping to Maya and she almost threw up.

But I watch a text come through from Maya.

Maya

I’ll be with the girls, two down from you. Cabin C4.

I roll my eyes and thumb through my messages to Remi.

Happy birthday, baby.

Just fucking talk to me.

You can’t hide forever.

I called her, too, after she stormed out. I tried to reason with her that morning, but she was hysterical, and Storm grabbed my arm, told me to let her go.

I fucking called her. I can count on one finger the number of people I call.

Tristan. That’s the person. I spoke to him this morning, made sure he was good because Dad is leaving for work, but Tristan is going to his friend’s house.

I confirmed it with Dad, and I feel like I’ll be able to relax this weekend.

Or I would have, if Remi hadn’t seen those texts on my phone.

Mom’s name, Linda, splashes across the screen and I decline the call. She’s called several dozen times, no doubt to try and make up for her shitty behavior the last time she was at my house, but I’m sick of her shit. Of her patterns. Lose her mind, hit me, grovel.

I give in every time, because she’s my mom.

I used to try to convince myself that she isn’t all bad. She provided for us. She loved me in her own way, and it’s not like she ever hurt us too badly.

She’s not all bad.

But fuck, maybe she actually is.

I ignored her at the away game last weekend too. I don’t even know why she bothered to show up.

Storm gets in the truck, slamming the door shut and throwing a duffel bag full of clinking bottles in the back of the cab. He tosses my lighter—black and orange—on the center console, next to the pack of cigarettes I only smoke when I’m stressed as hell.

Which would be now.

“Heard from her?” he asks me as I take a breath, dropping my phone down on the console and picking up a cigarette and the lighter.

“No.” I don’t look at him as I light up, closing my eyes on the inhale and setting down the lighter.

“She might be there. At Grim.” Storm’s tone is even, and I don’t know how he feels about that. We didn’t talk about her breakdown.

Just like we didn’t talk about that night.

Aside from making sure we all had the same story, there was nothing to talk about.

Now though, I’m not so sure that’s true.

I was fucking trashed.

I was trashed.

But she was too. And she’s bled, just like I have.

Fuck.

I slam my fist against the wheel, taking another drag from the cigarette and turning my head as I open my eyes, exhaling through my cracked window. The sun is up, and it’s a beautiful Friday and I want to spend it with Remi.

What is wrong with me. What the fuck is happening to me?

“She won’t,” I tell Storm.

He laughs, and I toss the cigarette out the window, onto my own lawn, before I turn to glare at him. He’s drumming his tattooed fingers on his thighs, looking straight ahead, at our house. “She tell you that?” he asks me.

“No, but I know Remi.”

He laughs again and I roll my eyes, throwing the truck in gear and backing out of the driveway, “Eye Opener” by Rain City Drive playing in the background. “You knew Remi,” he corrects me.

I pull out onto the road, glancing his way as I shift gears. “She doesn’t like parties.”

“Considering you found her in the bushes at one, I don’t think that’s true anymore. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s gotten a lot braver.” I see his hand come to his throat and I remember her digging her nails into it a week ago.

A fucking week. I haven’t even been able to find her on campus. She hasn’t been at the cemetery. Hasn’t been to the library. I even stopped by The Veil.

But I almost laugh, thinking about her choking Storm. “Yeah,” I admit. “She has.”

“We did that to her.”

I pull up to a stop sign, throwing on my signal, checking both ways. My stomach twists with his words, and I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything.

“But you know…” He trails off and waits until I make my turn, heading toward the highway. “You two can’t be together. Good to just let it go now.”

I’m annoyed with the finality in his tone. “I’m sorry, I don’t exactly recall asking for your fucking permission.”

“Well, considering she left you last week and isn’t returning any of your texts or calls,” I see him shrug as I merge onto the highway, “I don’t think you need my permission since she hasn’t given hers.”

I grit my teeth, switching to the fast lane.

“But if she ever decided to forgive you…” He sighs. “And you got with her, really got with her, Chase would never let that go. His dad wouldn’t let it go. And your mom would never let it go.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You seem to think I give a fuck what any of those people think.”

“I know you do.”

“No, I definitely do not?—”

“Because whether you want to admit it or not, you give a fuck about the shit they’d give her ,” he cuts me off, his tone cold. “And we both know, they’d bury her in that shit. And her stepdad… You know Brinklin has heard he isn’t exactly the most pleasant fucker to deal with.”

I don’t say anything, just flex my jaw and stare at the road, the highway curving around the mountains, beautiful in the rising sun.

To spend this weekend with Remi would be more than I deserve. And in admitting that, I have to admit other things too. And besides all the truth Storm is telling me, I don’t know if I want the other truths. The burden of what I might’ve done to her.

I didn’t though.

I fucking didn’t.

“You wrestling with your conscience over there?” Storm asks quietly.

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “We didn’t do it,” I tell him, instead of answering his question. “We just… we didn’t.”

There’s silence that stretches between us for what feels like miles as I drive.

But finally, he speaks. And I don’t really like what he has to say. “There’s a very big possibility that maybe we did, Cortland.”