“Holy shit,” Holden murmurs.
I nod. “Beaker—he was actually really smart, genius-level smart. His real name’s Raymond, but his friends named him Beaker in high school because he excelled in chemistry… enough to go to college and come out a pharmacologist.”
“So what the hell happened to him?”
“When I was young… not yet school age, he was in an accident. Hurt his back pretty damn bad. That’s how his addiction started—with pain meds. And of course, at some point, doctors stop giving scripts for them, but he had access to them, and when he was caught and lost his job, he turned to other drugs for relief, and well… you can guess the rest.”
“That’s fucking crazy,” Holden murmurs.
“Right? It’s like a supervillain origin story.”
“I mean, not really,” Holden states. “I’m sure a ton of people go through what he did, and they don’t end up being the scum of the earth.”
He doesn’t know the half of it. “Anyway, law enforcement was determined to figure out how deep his dealings went, so they ran forensics on his phones and computers. Turns out he had alerts set up for me and my mom.”
“But you didn’t have anything out there,” he’s quick to say. “You weren’t on social. I never posted about you because you asked me not to, so… how…” His gaze shifts, as if searching his mind for answers.
“The school newsletter,” I tell him. “It was about my entry in the art contest. It was three fucking sentences that almost killed you.”
“Stop it,” he says, throwing an arm over my shoulders to bring me closer.
I settle my head on his chest, right above his heart, and try to keep my voice even. “Ever since I found out, I haven’t been able to draw.” Tears prick behind my eyes—tears of hatred and despair. “I pick up a marker, and all I see is you lying next to your truck with blood—”
“You can’t let him take this from you, Jamie.” Holden’s words are firm, and I wish I could make them mean something. “He’s already taken enough.”
I wipe the wetness from my eyes onto his t-shirt, trying to settle my breaths, my anger, my rage. I know he’s right. I’ve spent five years trying to convince myself of it, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that I can’t do the single thing that brought Holden and me together. “My turn.” I sniff once, my mind rushing to change the subject. “When did you realize you wanted to come back here?”
He takes a moment to answer. “When my dad called and told me there was a chance we might lose it.”
“Was it instant? The need to save it?”
“Strangely enough, yeah. It was like a flick of a switch. And I don’t even know where it came from. One minute I was perfectly happy barely working for Joseph, and the next, I was contacting banks trying to get loans and figure shit out.”
“It’s good you could get one so fast.”
Holden scoffs, and I pull back so I can see him. “I wish,” he says, shaking his head. “No lender would even take me seriously. I’m twenty-three years old with student loans up to my eyeballs and no actual work history or steady source of income.”
“So… how…?”
His eyes meet mine, his smile sad. “I made a deal with the devil, Jamie.”
I think for a moment, and then it all becomes clear. “You got the money from Joseph?”
“Yep.” His lips press tight.
“Does your dad know?”
“God, no,” he rushes out. “And you can’t tell him.”
“I wouldn’t,” I say. “But you have to know that your dad’s so proud of you, Holden. He told me himself.”
“Trust me. He wouldn’t feel that way if he found out where the money came from. The betrayal is bad enough, but keeping it from him… I didn’t have any other choice.”
“I know,” I soothe. “I’m sorry.”
For hours, we let the heat of the flames from the torches warm our souls and light up our emotions. We ask questions back and forth and sometimes go off course. I tell him about my list of childhood memories and the people I’ve met on my travels. He talks about the friends he made in college, some he still keeps in contact with, and the shenanigans they got up to. I mention my monthly visits with Gina and the therapy I still attend when I’m there, and he tells me about the significant changes he wants to do within the company. He wants to try to get more corporate accounts. Offices, hotels, and malls. Think big, so he says, and I have no doubt he’s going to make it happen. And of everything we speak of, it’s clear that his greatest joy, his sweetest passion, comes from talking about little Benny Preston—Mia’s son, his nephew. “He’s really into rocks and minerals,” he says. “Like obsessed. When I was in college, he used to send me envelopes filled with random rocks he’d find. Swear to God, I could have the shittiest days, and then I’d get a package from him, and it was the only thing that could make me smile. He’s started reading a lot. He’s just turned five, and he reads better than I do. Not just that. He’s smart, Jamie. Like insanely smart. And he for sure got that from his dad because Mia’s a fucking dumbass.”
“Holden!” I laugh out.
“I’m kidding,” he chuckles. “But for real. I’ve been Team Leo—Benny’s dad—all this time, and Mia’s stubborn, bratty ass was too afraid to deal with it. Now look, they’re married and stupidly in love, and Benny has both parents, and she’s never been happier, and I don’t care what Mia says—I was right, and she was wrong. The end.”
What I wouldn’t give to see him and Mia in the same room. “I bet she loves that your parents are married now.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because she gets the mom she always wanted, and I get… him.” He sighs. “I’m being a dick. Joseph’s not that bad. I’m just really into holding grudges, which is dumb because the two people he hurt the most seemed to forgive him, and I… I guess I just don’t want to yet.” He stares at the darkness in front of us, his brow bunched.
I reach up, try to physically smooth out his features. “Tell me another favorite childhood memory,” I ask.
His smile is slight, but it’s there, and it’s kind of adorable. “It happened right here. That’s why I brought you here.”
“What happened here?” I ask, looking around.
“When I was little, and I’d stay at my grandparents, Granny Eastwood used to wake me up before the sun rose and bundle me up in the truck to bring me here. She swears it’s where the greatest sunrise in the world exists.”
It physically hurts to smile as wide as I am. But the image of a tiny, sleeping Holden Eastwood being carried to the truck by his grandma is possibly the cutest thing I can picture.
“She’d have hot chocolate and fresh, warm bread, and we’d sit in the back of the truck, like you and me now, and we’d watch the sunrise together.”
“Awwww.” I’m melting.
“She’d tell me that the sun rising every morning was the gates of heaven opening up for all those who had passed in the darkness. So we’d make up stories about all the people who had passed and what their lives were like.”