Let's Not & Say We Did (The Love Game Book 5) Page 16

  And though my brain had seemed aware of each passing thought at the time I’d had them, when I woke up for good a little after seven in the morning, I couldn’t make much sense of details. They existed only as images flashing through my memory like pictures on a phone after a long night of drinking. Matt and Melissa. Ransom. Hudson and Kari. I’d also thought—or dreamed—of Emily, though I couldn’t remember the specifics.

  In the dream, I hadn’t been able to recognize her face, and I couldn’t remember it now. I wasn’t sure the picture my mind had drawn of her even resembled the real person.

  Of course, the Holts had pictures of their daughter throughout their home, but I hadn’t had a good opportunity to look closely at any of them yet. I’d wanted to, though. I’d seen them on the wall, and I’d wanted to walk over and stand in front of the frames and really see the person who’d been loved by so many people, even if I’d never gotten a chance to know her.

  Carefully, I pulled the covers off and crept across the room to where I’d plugged in my phone to charge last night. I grabbed a sweatshirt from the top of my suitcase and shrugged it on when I got into the hallway. As I descended the stairs, I texted Sophia to see if she was awake.

  I am now.

  Sorry :)

  No you’re not.

  You’re right. I’m not. I’ve barely

  talked to you, and I gotta catch

  you up on the reunion yesterday.

  I wandered into the kitchen and got a glass of water. When I was done, Sophia’s text was waiting for me.

  I didn’t wanna ask, but…

  did everyone survive?

  A few seconds later another text came through.

  Sorry. Really poor choice of words.

  We need to talk about that too.

  I’d been avoiding thinking about the investigation into Brad’s death, which was easier because I was states away. But I knew my level of comfort would begin to vanish as soon as the miles did. Sooner or later, I’d have to face what we’d done and accept whatever came of it.

  I considered calling her, but she beat me to it. We’d all agreed not to put anything that could be incriminating in writing, and so far we’d been careful.

  “Hey,” I said, pulling my hood up before heading out onto the back porch. It was enclosed, but it also had no heat, so it was colder than I liked this early in the morning.

  “Hey,” Sophia said back. “Figured it was easier just to call. Even to talk about all the reunion stuff.”

  I didn’t really feel like getting into the details right now, but I knew she’d been thinking about all of it almost as much as I had. Sophia had always given a shit about my life even when I didn’t have anything interesting happening, so I knew she must be practically vibrating with curiosity considering the current state of my life.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I’m on the porch. I think everyone’s still asleep. It’s cold out here, so I’ll have to give you the details later, but it was pretty much what we both expected. Lots of family drama that’s been years in the making. But I think Ransom’s glad he went. I met his sister, and she was totally cool. His mom seems good. He’s definitely got an eclectic mix of relatives, so we were both a little overwhelmed.”

  That last part was seriously understated, but I’d have to fill Sophia in on Uncle Lester and the rest in person so I could do their eccentricities justice.

  “That’s understandable. I’m just glad you guys made it through unscathed, especially with everything else you have going on.”

  “Thanks. Yeah,” I said, “we’re glad it’s over too. But now we have to deal with the rest of this shit.” I glanced out to the backyard like I thought I might see an FBI agent peeking out from the bushes or something. Guess I hadn’t put my paranoia on the back burner after all. “Have there been any…developments?”

  “Not that we’ve heard. I’m sure they’re working on it, but the police obviously aren’t sharing the details of their investigation with us, and it’s not like we can ask.”

  “Right,” I said with a sigh. “I guess no news is good news in this situation.”

  “Have you heard from any of your college friends about it? Did any of them know why he’d come here?”

  “Actually, no.”

  For some reason, I hadn’t even thought of that, though it made perfect sense. If the police wanted to know who killed Brad, they’d most likely want to know what he was doing in a city where he didn’t live, and the only connection to that city was me. If it hadn’t already, it wouldn’t be long before the investigation extended to my school and the small group of friends I’d left there. And then there were Brad’s friends I had to worry about too. I’m sure Brad hadn’t said many pleasant things about me since we’d broken up.

  “Oh, okay. Drew heard Brad’s family is holding a vigil for him in a few days, the night before the funeral. I thought maybe your friends would’ve told you about it.”

  “No. They didn’t tell me anything.” I pressed on my eyes with my free hand, suddenly feeling my body heat up despite the low temperature on the porch. “But they know I’d never go. I never told them how crazy Brad had gotten, but they knew I wanted nothing to do with him. That much I made clear. If they’re planning to go, I’m sure they wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m sure the last thing you need to think about right now is this guy’s family standing around a beach with a bunch of candles and pictures of him.”

  “It’s on a beach?” I’d said the words softly, more to myself than to Sophia.

  “Yeah,” she answered curiously. “Why? Does that matter?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Not really.” I knew Brad had grown up near the beach. He’d loved water and had once told me he and his older brother Jonathan had sneaked out of the house after their parents went to sleep so they could hang out on the beach. It was the summer before Jonathan went away to college, and Brad wanted to spend every second possible with the brother he’d idolized since birth.

  He’d described even the drive there as a thrill because it was illegal to be on the beach that late at night, but Jon was four years older than Brad and had just gotten his license. He’d promised Brad the worst that could happen was that they’d get fined and told to go home.

  It probably would’ve been true, but Jon had brought a six-pack with him. He’d given thirteen-year-old Brad two of the beers. After deciding it would be fun to go for a dip in a stranger’s beachfront hot tub, Jon and Brad’s night of freedom ended in the back of a police car. Since Jon had been drinking and hadn’t been permitted to drive home, their parents’ car was left on the side street near the beach where Jon had parked it.

  His mom had been furious, more so than their dad, because she’d insisted something could’ve happened to them. What if they’d decided to swim in the ocean instead of the hot tub, she’d said, and one or both of them drowned in the nighttime sea? What if the cops hadn’t come and Jonathan had gotten into a car accident on the way home?

  When Brad told the story, he’d shared his mom’s fears with an eye roll and a laugh. Like most teenagers, especially boys, the fatal possibilities his mom had described had seemed ridiculous to them, even as a college-aged kid.

  As far as he was concerned, he was invincible. Until he wasn’t.

  All good parents worried about their kids. Even my own mom, who’d spent the better part of the year with her husband doing who knows what in Australia, still called to check in on me routinely.

  And even though her actions didn’t always show it, Kari also cared about her children.

  I wondered if out of all the morbid fears that must’ve run through Brad’s mother’s mind—both rational and completely unlikely—she never once considered that her son’s life might end alone in the alley of an unfamiliar city.

  “Taylor. Tay-lor.”

  Like I was being woken from a dream, Sophia’s voice began to materialize like water vapors rising to form a cloud. By the time I beca
me consciously aware that she’d been trying to get my attention, she was practically yelling at me. “Are you there?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I…I must’ve lost the call for a second. The reception here is so unreliable.”

  “Oh.”

  “I should go,” I told her with no explanation as to why.

  Thankfully, she didn’t ask, and once I hung up, I headed back inside.

  I tried to push all thoughts of Brad below the surface, but it was next to impossible, especially when Ransom wasn’t awake yet to distract me. I didn’t want to risk waking Melissa and Matt by taking a shower or making any sort of noise upstairs, so I opted to make some coffee.

  I poured enough water in the coffeemaker to make a full pot so everyone else could have some when they got up, and I scooped about five heaping spoonfuls of grounds into the filter.

  As I waited for it to brew, I walked around the downstairs, finally getting a chance to look at the pictures I’d seen only briefly since I’d been here.

  Ransom’s college graduation picture and Emily’s from high school hung next to each other over the love seat in the living room. I’d obviously known about Emily’s battle with cancer and how close she and Ransom had been. It was sad, of course, to hear about, but standing here in the home where she lived, looking at pictures of her…it suddenly felt more real.

  My chest ached for the Holts because even though there wasn’t an empty spot on the wall where Emily’s college graduation photo should’ve gone, I had no doubt there was a hole in their hearts that should’ve held memories like those. I tried to remember if anyone had even mentioned Emily last night while we’d played Parcheesi, but it was difficult to remember because yesterday had been filled with so many new people and stories.

  “I’m assuming Ransom told you?”

  Melissa’s voice startled me, and I turned around to see her at the bottom of the stairs. I hadn’t even heard her come down until she’d spoken.

  “About Emily, I mean.”

  I held my coffee mug tighter, wanting its warmth to comfort me, even though I wasn’t the one who needed comforting.

  “He did,” I said. “I’m so sorry.” The words sounded empty. They were anything but. I couldn’t imagine losing someone close to me, let alone a child, but my condolences sounded generic because I hadn’t been prepared to deliver them. “She was beautiful,” I added.

  “Inside and out.” Melissa forced a tight grin. “This one’s my favorite of the two of them.” She pointed to one of the photos that hung on the stairway wall.

  I’d noticed the collage of frames on my way upstairs last night, but it hadn’t been an appropriate time to stop and look at them. As I moved closer, I saw how, regardless of size, shape, or color, each of the frames seemed to fit like a puzzle piece in its given place—part of a larger whole that would feel incomplete without it.

  And in those frames were snapshots of a life I’m sure, to Melissa and Matt, felt like a different one entirely. There were shots of Christmases and birthdays, softball games, and cheesy family photos. Beautiful moments frozen in time so that each single instance captured told a story all its own.

  The one Melissa had pointed to was of Ransom and Emily lying on their backs in the snow. The shot was taken from above, and between them was a younger Buddy, lying on his back as well. All of them, even Buddy somehow, were smiling. Their arms and legs were outstretched, and I could see where the snow had been pressed down while they’d made snow angels. I could see why Melissa loved it so much.

  “It was the first snow day the kids had after Ransom moved in with us. Emily and Buddy had always been inseparable, and when Ransom came, the kids got along so well, Buddy thought he was about to be replaced.”

  Melissa laughed, but I could hear the faint sniffle beneath it. I wondered how often she stopped to notice these pictures. Did she just pass by them because the memories were too painful? Or did she look at them daily because a reminder of what she’d lost made it easier to celebrate what had once been?

  “Was Buddy replaced?” I asked, my smile small as I turned toward Melissa.

  “Almost. Emily and Rans were meant to be siblings. Or best friends. Or both, I guess. I’m not exactly sure who the third wheel was—Buddy or Ransom. But somehow all three became so attached, we wouldn’t see one without the other two close behind.”

  “That’s so sweet.” And so sad.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Buddy hasn’t been the same since we lost Emily. And I guess you could say we lost Ransom soon after.”

  I looked into Melissa’s eyes, and through my own tears I could see hers. Neither of us allowed any to fall, but they were there nonetheless, and I was sure we both knew it.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but thankfully Melissa said something before I had to.

  “It’s okay,” she said, placing her hand on my arm for a moment, like she sensed I might apologize on his behalf. “We all have our own way of dealing with it. And Ransom’s had a lot of loss in his life. He just couldn’t take another.”

  Even though I knew about everything Ransom had gone through, I hadn’t thought of it like that. How he’d lost one of the only good people in his life after losing so many bad ones.

  “He doesn’t owe anything to anyone but himself at this point in his life.” She sighed heavily, but it sounded like it was more out of sadness than frustration. “I’m just glad he’s happy and he’s moving on with his life. Moving forward. If there’s one thing parents want for their children, it’s for them to be happy. And Ransom’s happy. I know that boy, and even though he was exhausted and probably felt bad about calling us to pick you guys up, he looked happy.”

  “You think so?” I wondered what the old Ransom was like, the one Melissa and Matt had known. The one Emily had known. But then I decided it was probably for the best that I only knew this one.

  Despite the heaviness of the conversation, Melissa’s lips slipped into a smile, and she seemed more at ease than she had a few moments ago. “I know so.”

  I didn’t want to think about the implication that his happiness had anything to do with me, because as much as I didn’t want the credit for making him happy, I also didn’t want the burden of keeping him that way.

  In the back of my mind, I worried about what would happen if things didn’t work out between us. I always did. It was part of my self-diagnosed neuroses that didn’t allow me to follow through with anything without overthinking it. And with a secret between us as devastating as the one we were carrying, I couldn’t decide if we’d grow closer or further apart as a result of it.

  I smiled back but was unable to find any words to express what I was feeling. My parents’ marriage hadn’t worked out for several reasons—some of them still unknown to me. But right now, I was in the house of a couple who’d survived the unthinkable. And here was this loving woman who’d taken in a boy who’d needed a family, only to lose her own daughter. And somehow she still kept it all together.

  “Can I ask you something, Melissa?”

  “Of course.”

  Not sure how to ask my question or why I even wanted to ask it, I hesitated a moment. “How’d you do it? How’d you continue after…something like that?”

  “You know, I’ve asked myself that many times. But you’re the first person who’s ever asked me that.”

  “I’m so sorry. It’s personal. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No. It’s okay. I don’t talk about it much. The ‘after,’ I mean. I’m used to remembering Emily, used to talking about her with people who like to remember her too. But no one ever asks about what happens after. Maybe it feels too…messy or too invasive in some ways.”

  Melissa began walking down the steps, putting a hand on my back as she passed me. “You feel like another cup?” She glanced at my coffee. “I can use one myself.”

  I nodded and followed silently behind her toward the kitchen. Melissa filled my cup and set the creamer on the table before grabbing herself a cup and setting it down, al
ong with some napkins and pastries from a box on the counter.

  “Danishes from the best bakery around,” she said. “The peach is the best.” She slid one onto a napkin for me and then helped herself to one, slicing it in half delicately.

  It looked amazing, but I wasn’t in the mood to eat anything yet.

  Melissa had one of those faces that let people know how loving she was. How welcoming. Or maybe I just felt that way because Ransom had spoken so highly of her and I knew she was both those things and more. I studied her features—the lines around her eyes and the soft curve of her lips, which were cracked a bit at the edges. Freckles dotted her cheekbones, giving a little color to her otherwise pale skin. Her face was soft. No sharp lines or striking features, but there was a quiet power in it.

  I pulled a piece of my danish off because I didn’t want to seem rude, but when I put it in my mouth, my taste buds told my stomach it was hungrier than it actually was. Melissa was right about the peach. Though to be fair, I hadn’t tried any of the others.

  “So,” Melissa began after she swallowed a sip of coffee. “You wanna know about the after.”

  I nodded. “If you don’t mind telling me.”

  She looked down at the liquid in her mug before speaking again. “Hard doesn’t even begin to describe it. And if people tell you it gets easier with time, they’re liars.” I could tell she almost laughed but didn’t quite get the sound out. Shaking her head, she said, “Nothing about losing a child gets easier. And for months after Emily passed, I would ask God why me? Why us? I’ve never considered myself religious, but I found myself angry with a God who could take something so perfect—so pure—away from this world.”

  Melissa sat quietly for a minute or so, but I could tell she had more to say, so I didn’t fill the silence with my own words. I just sipped my coffee and waited until she was ready to continue.