Chapter 16
WOLF
Rumors always follow me. That’s what being a Blackthorn means.
I’ve spent my entire high school career carefully curating those rumors – making sure the right ones got out, and the wrong ones got shut down. Fitz helped with that immensely; being able to spread rumors was his entire reason for living, some days.
Or it used to be.
It’s been two weeks since Beatrix stopped coming to Lakecrest. Two weeks since we heard her admission that she’d been working for Dad all along. Two weeks since I heard words from her own mouth admitting she became friends with us just to keep her scholarship.
Nothing’s changed.
“I swear to you guys, I didn’t do it, okay? That bastard is lying!”
The girl’s voice is high pitched. Vanessa, I think her name was. Fitz would know – he’d hacked her Facebook to confirm she’d been catfishing her ex. If it was just harmless catfishing, I wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at it. But she’d been trying to get him to come to a secluded location for weeks. And then she’d contacted five other guys from South Portland High School, promising sexual favors and drugs if they’d meet him there instead and beat him to a pulp for her.
I hold the red post-it note between my fingers, and hand it to her.
“You will stop,” I say. “What you’re planning.”
Her eyes narrow with disbelief – I can’t know. Wolf Blackthorn can’t know her inner secrets, her darkest thirst for revenge. But I do. And I watch her gaze until she sees the truth in mine.
“How do you know –”
“If you continue to go down this path, I’ll find out,” I interrupt her. “And I will expel you. Consider this your first and only warning.”
“You’re such a stuck-up asshole,” She seethes. “First you chased out that scholarship girl, now me, huh?”
I feel my insides writhe. Fitz snorts – dismissive, angry. Nothing like he usually is with girls. Behind me, Burn steps forward so he’s level with her, towering over her.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is slow, and it’s not directed at me, but his face is faintly irritated in a way not even I see often. The girl shrinks back, faking bravado.
“Fine. Whatever.”
The three of us watch her go. When she’s gone, Burn looks at me.
“You alright?” He asks. I scoff.
“Of course I am.”
“Weird of you to start caring,” Fitz says. “After the whole Bee thing, not before.”
Burn rounds on him. “I cared before.”
“You sure as hell didn’t show it,” I interject.
“It’s…” He slams his fist on a nearby locker, the sound reverberating in a way his words don’t. “It’s hard for me. To stay, instead of run. I’ve been trying. This whole time I’ve been trying.”
“Poor you,” I crack my neck and walk away, towards my Calculus class.
School is a blur, my brain barely soaking in any information. Tests come and go, homework comes and goes, people smiling at me or whispering about me barely register. It’s not me I hear. It’s Bee. When her name comes up on someone’s lips I can narrow in on it in less than a second, sharp and ready for every word that comes after.
“- what did the scholarship girl do, anyway?”
“ – at some party. She passed out and almost drowned in the pool –”
“ – gave her CPR right there. We were so freaked out, he was the only one who moved at all –”
“ – dating?”
“ – they hated each other –”
“ – he got her kicked out –”
“ – she was sort of stuck up, huh –”
They know so little. They know nothing, and yet they love pretending they do. That’s what humans do best. Pretend. I learned that all thanks to Bee.
A wave of sickness washes through me, and I spin my ring frantically. Let it pass. Dear God, please let it pass. I can’t lose control in school. Not in front of everyone. My shoulders are shaking so badly I can feel it radiating to my jaw.
I let myself trust again.
I trusted a liar, again.
I loved a liar, again.
She never hit me. Not once were her motions violent towards me. And yet somehow, this wound of hers burns hotter in me than any of Mark’s ever did.
That one dead poet was right when he said gentleness can kill, too.
Dad is smug about it, at home. He asks me if I’m ‘doing alright’, as if he genuinely cares. Today after school, I catch him sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over brochures of some kind.
“There you are,” He smiles up at me, that special snake smile he gets when he’s planning something awful. “Sit with me?”
He motions to the open chair, and suddenly exhausted by school, by the whispers, by all of it, I sit.
It takes me a minute to realize what the brochures he’s reading are about. My eyes focus – all of them are ‘rehabilitation centers’. For drug addictions. Dad sees me reading their headlines, and smiles again.
“I think it’s far overdue for Fitz to get some real help with his problem, don’t you?”
“Problem?” I whisper, hoarse. “He takes drugs at parties. And when he’s stressed, sometimes. But he hasn’t done a single one in two weeks –”
“You don’t know that. We can’t trust him, Wolf. It’s harsh but true. He might be your brother, but you can’t trust an addict’s word.”
“He didn’t tell me that,” I growl. “I know that. He gave me his stash. And I flushed it down the toilet.”
“You can’t know that he gave you all of it.”
“Haven’t you noticed? He isn’t himself, lately. He’s snappish and irritable. He’s having withdrawals.”
“And what reason,” Dad sneers. “Would your addict brother have for going cold turkey, hm? A change of heart? I don’t think so.”
“He nearly got B – ” I freeze. “He gave drugs to a girl. A girl who wasn’t used to them. And she almost – she almost got hurt.”
Dad watches me carefully, with eyes of a hawk. “And this girl – she was important to him?”
“She was important to all of us.” A low voice says. I look up to see Burn standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his fists balled. Things are never going to go well when his fists are balled.
“Ah, Burn,” Dad smiles. “Please, sit down. We were just having a discussion about what we should do to help your brother get clean.”
“He’s getting clean. On his own.” Burn insists, not moving from his spot.
“He’ll relapse without proper help. You’re the oldest brother,” Dad insists. “You need to do what’s best for them. Fitz is going to a rehab, and if I hear one word –”
Dad doesn’t hear a word from Burn. He hears Burn’s fist as it slams into the wall. Dad and I jump in our skins. Burn glowers at Dad, and this time it’s pure anger. Dark lightning and unbridled fury dances across his face.
I haven’t seen him get mad, truly mad, in years. Until now.
“He’s not going.”
Dad’s quiet, then he chuckles. “I see. Suddenly you’ve decided to take charge. Years of running away from the responsibility of this family, and now you expect me to take you seriously?”
Burn clenches his jaw, and for the first time in my life, I feel fear. I’m afraid of him, of what he could do to Dad. To me. To anyone. He’s so huge and so strong, it would be so simple for him to reach across the counter and –
“You’re the one who was supposed to inherit everything, Burn,” Dad says. Reminds him, really, like the thought of money will ease his anger.
“I don’t give a damn,” Burn says, his voice shaking. “Fitz isn’t going anywhere.”
“If you fight me on this, I will change my mind. And if you fight hard, you can be sure I’ll write you out of my assets and will completely. You’ll get nothing from me upon graduating in six months. No college tuition, no trust fund. Nothing. You will be penniless and destitute on the streets of this town, and let me assure you – the streets are never kind.”
“I don’t. Need. Your money.” Burn grits his teeth. “I don’t need any help from you to live my life the way I want to.”
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Dad sneers. “With a high school degree and no contacts, or training, or references.”
Burn doesn’t so much as flinch. He holds up his fist, and for a second I’m sure he’s about to hit something else, but he dangles something from it instead. Something shiny and plastic.
“It took me a long time,” He says. “It’s true. I ran away, that’s true too. It was my fault. I wasn’t there for anyone. And that’s something I have to make up for.”
He throws the plastic thing on the counter, over the brochures. It’s a keychain, I can see that now. Detailed bubble letters, drawn and colored in with care, read BE SAFE. Dad wrinkles his nose.
“And what is this….filthy piece of garbage supposed to relay to me?”
“It’s a gift,” Burn corrects him. “From someone I care about. I found it at the old place we used to hang out together.”
I narrow my eyes. “That – you don’t mean –”
“You used her like a puppet,” Burn presses, his gaze burning holes into Dad. “You preyed on her, like a tiger preys on a lamb. She had no idea what you were capable of. And you used her ignorance and desperation against her. You used Wolf concern for her, for her dreams, against her. You used her like you use us – to get what you want.”
Burn stops, and looks at me.
“She left that for me. Because she was worried. Because, even if she fucked up, she’s still worried about me. About us. She still cares.”
I scoff, disbelieving.
“Laugh all you want,” Burn says. “But I believe in her.”
“She betrayed our trust,” I snarl.
“She made a mistake,” He argues. “Just like I did. Just like I did for years.”
“And you’re going to make up for it all right now?” Dad laughs, cruel and cold, and it makes me never want to scoff again, if that’s what I sound like. Burn remains strong.
“I’m going to try. I want a chance to. And that’s what she wants, too. I know it.”
“You want me to suddenly trust her again? I can’t do that,” I insist. “You know I can’t. Not after – not after everything. Not after Mark. I won’t make the same mistake three times.”
“So you’re just going to live like this?” Burn knits his eyebrows. “Sitting here, wishing she was here, but never admitting it yourself?”
“You have no idea –”
“You keep the scraps. Of her essay. I see them in your trashcan. You haven’t emptied that thing in two weeks.”
“I have nothing to throw away.”
“You have everything to throw away,” He corrects. “And every reason to do it. But you don’t. You ever ask yourself why?”
I furiously occupy my hands with the brochures. He has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s just easily swayed by –
My hand freezes on a brochure. Buried beneath all the others is a brochure for a ‘mental rehabilitation center for trauma and abuse victims’. Dad sees me looking at it and plucks it from my hands.
“Ah, yes. I was perusing options for your recovery as well, Wolf.”
“Recovery –”
“For what Mark did to you, of course. This facility excels in dealing with adolescent abuse, and as an added bonus, they have a very good reorientation program.”
All the air presses from my throat. “Reorienta –”
“It’s not natural, Wolf.” Dad looks at me with pitying eyes. “You’re sick. Trust me, this place will show you how things are supposed to be, how the natural order of things goes. You’ll thank me, someday.”
I reach out for the keychain with shaking fingers, and grip it tightly.
“I’m not sick.”
“What?”
“I said,” I shout. “I’m not sick! I’m your fucking son!”
“You like men, Wolf. That’s a sickness. You’re not on the right path –”
I’m stunned into silence, but only for a second. God, Mom, if you could see him now. If you could see what your death has done to him. Or maybe he was always like this. Maybe I was just too young, too blinded by our perfect family, to notice before you were gone.
“You’re a monster,” I hiss.
“I’m your father,” He asserts. “And you will listen to me when I speak.”
“You haven’t been my father for five years, now.”
I turn on my heel and pass Burn, and I can feel him following me as we walk up the stairs to our rooms, Dad calling after us.
“Wolf! Wolfgang William Blackthorn, you will come back down those stairs this instant and we will discuss this like civilized human beings!”
I wait until Burn is in my room, then slam my door behind me and lock it. Burn seats himself on my computer chair, his face solemn.
“He’s – he’s insane.” I manage. “He’s insane if he thinks I’m going to that fucking place!”
“I know,” Burn says, patiently. All his fury is gone, now, replaced by resignation.
“He wants to tear us apart!”
“I know.”
I spin my ring feverishly, like it’s the only thing that will save me. “What do we do? We don’t have anywhere to go – Mom’s family is in Ireland –”
“Calm down,” Burn says. “Breathe. We’ll figure something out.”
“We have to get Fitz out of here,” I insist. “Before he takes him away.”
“I know. I’ve already started looking.”
“You have?”
Burn nods. “Part of the reason I ran so much was Dad. I could see it in him. And I didn’t want to face it. And when Bee said she’d been telling him things, about what we did – I knew what he’d do. He’d try to fix it, with money. With force.”
“So –”
“Jakob,” Burn says. “Jakob offered us a place to stay on his property. As long as we help him upkeep the copter, and the equipment.”
“That won’t work,” I say quickly, my brain moving just as fast. “Dad will buy the land around him. He’ll force Jakob out with – with taxes, or regulations, or –”
“Dad doesn’t know any landowners that far out, so he has no influence out there. Trust me. I checked.”
I’m quiet. I hear Dad asking his bodyguards to contact someone. Burn looks so tired, sitting on my bed. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the dark circles under his eyes are strong. He must’ve been staying up, trying to think of ways to get us out from under Dad’s thumb. The fact he’s here at all, makes my heart swell a little.
I walk over and tentatively put my hand on his shoulder. It isn’t much, but it’s my way of trying to let him know I’m thankful. Words seem somehow too hard, even though that would be the simple option. But I know he appreciates gestures more than words.
And for once, this gesture doesn’t make me shake. I don’t feel the all-consuming urge to put space between us, to turn my rings around my finger. Burn looks at my hand on his shoulder, almost incredulous.
“She helped after all, huh?” He asks. When I don’t say anything, he stands up and picks up my trash can. There, still at the top, are the ashy remnants of the essay. He picks up a piece and chuckles.
“Probably would’ve been better off if you burned it before you read it.”
All the memories of Bee flash through my head at once. If I hadn’t of read it when I did, none of those things would’ve ever happened. I wouldn’t be able to touch Burn, now, if I didn’t read that essay before. Holding her in the garage, the skydiving, the ride in the back of Burn’s car with our hands intertwined, lying on her lap, watching her punch Mark and feeling like somehow, someway, even a bit, I’d been avenged. Her laugh face. Her smiling face. Her worried face. All of it. Even now, even hurt and confused, I hold onto what’s left of her with perfect, crystal clarity.
A loud knocking on my door shakes me out of my memories. I think it’s Dad, but then I hear Fitz’s voice.
“Open up! Guys! Open up!”
Fitz hadn’t come out of his room, except to go to school. And now he wanted in all of a sudden? Burn crosses over to the door and opens it, Fitz barging in, holding up a piece of paper.
“Look!” He shoves it in my face instantly. I try to ignore his disheveled clothes, the hungry look in his cheeks. He hadn’t been eating much.
The paper is freshly printed, still a little warm. It’s a few awful stick figures. Except then I realize the stick figures are of us; Burn, looking sleepy, Fitz, hacking at a computer, and then me, on my motorcycle, looking angry. It’s poorly drawn, but I can see a bit of an endearing charm to it.
“What is this?” I ask.
“She left it for me!” Fitz says breathlessly. “At first I thought it was a trash file, but it was on her desktop, so I thought that was weird, and then that was hexadecimal that said there was another one hidden in her root directory, and that one led to the settings of her Paint program –”
“Who is ‘she’?” Burn asks. “Did you hack someone’s computer?”
“Bee!” Fitz explodes. “I was just messing around, and I thought maybe she kept a diary or something on her computer, something that would explain things better, but then I found this, and she left it for me! Isn’t it cute? There’s you, and Wolf, and there’s me, and I’m obviously the best –”
Fitz blabbers on about how many layers of files he need to sift through to find it, like she’d set up some sort of game for him. Of course he likes it – he’s liked these sorts of treasure hunts since he was a kid.
“She left me the keychain,” Burn muses. “And Fitz the picture. So what did she leave you?”
My heart squeezes, but I force a scoff. “Nothing. I don’t want anything from her.”
“Except a kiss,” Fitz taunts, and I’d blow up at him, normally. But hearing him tease me again after he hadn’t for so long feels good.
“What’s this?” Burn reaches into the trash can, and pulls out a felt ring box. He holds it up to me, and I shrug.
“Mr. Finch said someone told him to give it to me.”
Burn and Fitz’s eyes lit up, and I rolled mine.
“No, it isn’t what you’re thinking. Amanda always tries to buy me rings. It’s just her, again.”
“Why would she give it to Finch to give to you?”
“So I’d actually be forced to accept it this time,” I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Did you even open it?” Fitz asks.
“No. There’s no point.”
Burn opens it, and his face goes flat. He holds it out to me.
“Open it.”
“I told you, it’s just a piece of bribery from Aman –”
“Now.” Burn insists, hard.
Glaring, I pull the lid open slowly. Inside is a tasteful silver ring, carved with a wolf’s head. It’s vintage – the silver a little dull on the edges, nothing like the shiny new tacky ones Amanda gets me. The wolf motif is thoughtful, deliberate. It can’t be.
I told her I feel safer with more rings.
It can’t be.
Fitz’s loud voice suddenly rings over my shoulder. “Wow! Look at that ancient, impoverished-looking thing! That’s definitely from Bee.”
I’m silent. Burn clears his throat.
“You okay?”
I’m far from okay. I want to hear her voice, to drive to her house again and ask her to come out. I want to see her walking down the stairs to me, to see her outline, her shoulders, the curve of her face. My confusion and sadness might still burn in me, but nothing burns as hot as my desire to touch her. If it was the last time, I’d savor it. If I had known that night on her lap was the last time, I would’ve stayed longer. I would’ve told her how I really felt, instead of running away like a coward.
We both made mistakes, she and I. I more than her.
But it’s too late.
We’ve said our goodbyes, no matter how bittersweet they were.
****
BEATRIX
“Thanks for coming!” I wave at the old lady leaving the coffee shop. I blow out a puff of stress-air, adjusting my apron ties. God, it’s been a long day. But I can’t relax just yet – I’ve got another half-hour to get through before my shift’s up. I need to leave right on time today – I’m worried about Dad. He promised he’d take his meds today, but last night he’d taken three instead of the regular two. Maybe it was a slip of the hand, but my gut nags at me that it could be intentional, too. That he’s trying to hurt himself again.
“Well hi there, dollface.”
I look up at the voice to see Wolf. My insides soar, suddenly in zero-g. What is he doing here? How did he find me at my work? Why isn’t he pissed at me -
I blink – no, it isn’t Wolf. It’s a dark-haired guy, probably college-aged, smiling at me. He’s very handsome, in that thick-browed way. At a glance he could be Wolf. But only at a glance. As if Wolf would ever call me by a petname.
As if he’d ever speak to me again.
The fact it’s some rando calling me ‘dollface’ makes me want to barf, but I put on my best barista face and smile.
“What can I get you?”
“A small mocha late, and your number.”
I laugh nervously and decide to be polite. “Well, I can get you one of those things.”
Thankfully, he leaves without much more fuss once he’s has his latte. My shift ends, and I sterilize the kitchenette and hang up my apron before going home.
The house is quiet, which is the usual. I check the bathroom first – Dad’s pills are still there. He hasn’t taken any today. That’s probably for the best. I check his room, since it’s open, but he isn’t there. My room – he isn’t there either. The garage is empty. He’s gone.
My lungs start to burn with panic. Where is he? Did he leave the house? Maybe he just decided to take a walk. I’m overreacting. I sit on the sofa and call his phone. It rings, but no answer. Maybe he can’t hear it over the traffic he’s walking next to.
“Hey Dad, it’s me. Just wanted to see where you were. Did you go to the little corner store for food? Call me back when you can.”
I wait.
Ten minutes, and I call again. Twenty minutes. This time I don’t stop calling, leaving him message after message.
“Dad, please pick up. I’m worried.”
I bite my nails, calling him again.
“Please,” I beg softly. “Please, pick up.”
When he doesn’t I force myself to stay calm. Maybe it’s a very long walk. Maybe he and Mom are together, as doubtful as that is. I call her phone, but she doesn’t answer, either. She must be with a patient. I can’t stand the silence in the house, so I turn the TV on. The commercials are vapid and stupid, but they’re enough to take the burning edge of my anxiety off. Everything’s fine. Everything will be fine.
My phone buzzes, and I jump to answer it – it’s Mom.
“Hey honey, did you call me?”
“Yeah, um, is Dad with you?”
“No,” She says carefully. “Is he not at the house?”
“No. I can’t find him.”
“Did you check –”
“I checked the basement, your room, my room – everywhere. He’s not here.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. Just calm down. Maybe he went to the store down the street.”
“That’s what I thought too, but he hasn’t come back. And he’s not answering his phone.”
“Well, you should walk around the neighborhood and ask if someone’s seen him.”
“Okay, yeah,” I pull my jacket back on. “That’s a good idea. Can you keep trying his phone?”
“He won’t pick up for me anymore, you know that.”
“Yeah but, maybe if you do it enough –”
“I’ll do what I can, honey. I’m still here at the hospital for two more hours, and then I’ll be home.”
“Right. Okay.” I deflate, all the comfort I took in thinking she’d come home to help me evaporating. I’m just overreacting. She doesn’t need to leave work – he’s safe. He just went somewhere.
I walk the usual path he takes to the corner store. A neighbor mowing her lawn says she saw him walking, and points to the south, the exact opposite direction of the store. That only confuses me and makes me worry more – where was he headed, if not the store?
I ask a kid on his bike, and he points me to the bus stop, and I feel like being sick. Dad could be anywhere. He could be doing anything right now – hurting himself again. All I can see in my mind is him, dead, hung from some tree, slit open at his wrists –
I manage to not freak out in front of the kid, and head to a dim alley. The second I’m alone I start breathing, hard and fast, the tears threatening. I’m being illogical. I’m overreacting. He isn’t hurting himself. He wouldn’t. He’s my dad. He loves me. He won’t kill himself, no matter how badly ill he is, if he still has me.
“I-It’s okay,” I waver. “It’s going to be okay, Bee. You’re going to be okay. Dad’s going to be fine. You just have to – you just have to –”
I call Mom’s phone quickly, and she picks up this time. I tell her everything as calmly as I can, and she sighs.
“Oh honey, don’t worry so much.”
“But Mom, he –”
“He used to do this all the time when we were dating,” she insists. “IF he wanted some time alone he’d take the bus and go somewhere by himself.”
“Mom, it’s more than that, all my books say –”
“You don’t know everything, Bee!” Her snap leaves me stunned. “No matter how many books you read, you’re no expert on your father. I know him better than you do. He’s fine. So please stop worrying and just go home.”
“But – But he took three pills last night, and a few weeks ago he and I packed up his stuff. He sold his typewriter, Mom! He loves that thing! He’s going through –”
“We all know what he’s going through!” She says shrilly. “What about me, hm? What about you? We’re going through just as much as he is!”
“Mom – please, come home –”
“I refuse to let that man control my life anymore,” Mom insist. “I’m not coming home, Bee. Not until I’m finished here. He’s fine. You’ll see – he’ll come home and then you’ll feel silly. Now please, stop calling me. I have work to do.”
She hangs up, and the silence rings in my ears. I suddenly feel so small, so alone.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe he is fine. But my stomach won’t settle with just a ‘maybe’. I have to know. Everything I’d learned tells me this isn’t right. And even if Mom thinks my knowledge is useless, I have to trust it.
It’s all I have.
It’s all I can rely on.
But I’m lost. I have no idea where he could be. I keep trying his phone, but get nothing. I’m running out of time. I can feel it. If I don’t find him soon, something awful will happen.
But I’m alone.
I’m just one girl. What can I hope to do? If I drive around looking for him, I’ll never find him. Everything suddenly feels hopeless. I collapse against the alley wall, and the tears flow. I can’t stop them. I can’t stop what’s happening – to Dad, to me. I can’t stop the crushing pressure on my chest.
I blindly reach for my phone, and call the one number I’ve had in it forever, but never called. The one number I’ve been afraid to call for so long. Three rings, and then it picks up.
“Hello?”
“Wolf,” I try my hardest to be coherent through my sobs. “M-My Dad’s missing. He’s gone and – and Mom won’t believe me, and I can’t find him, and I don’t know what to do –”
“Slow down,” He says. “Where are you?”
“I –” I look around. “I don’t know. He’s gone, and I can’t find him –”
I break into sobs, and Wolf’s voice is only barely audible.
“Bee! Listen to me – listen! You need to calm down, okay? You once told me you can’t be expected to read my mind – it’s the same for me, right now.”
He’s right. I gulp air like a dying fish. “O-Okay. Okay. I’m okay.”
“Where are you?” He asks, patiently.
“An alley, in my neighborhood, I think.”
“Can you get back to your house? I’ll meet you there.”
“Yeah.” I sniff. What am I thinking, calling Wolf of all people? I quickly hang up, regretting everything. My arms and legs feel like lead deadweight as I trudge back home. Why is he coming to help? He owes me nothing, and he hates me. How weak am I that I just gave in and called the one person I’d been wanting to call forever the second shit hits the fan?
Why did hearing his voice, even over the phone, feel like ice water being poured on a burn?
None of it matters. I get back to my house and wait on the front steps nervously. None of my feelings matter right now – not while Dad’s still out there. If Wolf can help me, then I’ll take it. I’ll take anything I can get, right now, no matter how begrudgingly it’s given.
Five minutes go by. Seven. Finally, the sound of a motorcycle roars down the street, and Wolf pulls up to the curb. He takes his helmet off and jogs up to me – I walk down and meet him halfway.
“Are you alright?” He says, breathlessly. His hair is a mess, his face dark with worry. Worry. Not for me. Can’t be for me.
“I-I’m fine,” I rub my arms, unsure where to look. I settle for his shoes, even though every nerve craves to look at his face longer. “But Dad isn’t. I looked everywhere in the house.”
“And your Mom? You called her?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “She doesn’t think it’s serious.”
Wolf mutters a swear under his breath. I dare to look up at him.
“You – You believe me, right? That something’s wrong.”
His jaw flexes, and he nods. “You study too long and hard to be anything but believed.”
Relief floods me. Hearing that from him, from anyone, eases the pressure on my chest just a bit. Another roar of an engine resounds, and Burn’s convertible parks on the curb. Fitz and Burn and Keri all piling out and dashing over.
“Bee,” Burn nods at me. I nod back.
“Hi.”
Fitz runs a hand through his hair. “You could’ve explained a little more thoroughly about what was going on before you took off like a bat outta hell, Wolf!”
“Sorry,” Wolf sighs. “Look, her Dad’s missing. We have to find him, and fast.”
“What does his car look like?” Keri asks.
“He doesn’t drive,” I say. “And he hates taking the bus. But he’s been gone for three hours. He could’ve walked anywhere.”
“No,” Fitz wags a finger at me. “The average walk speed is three miles an hour. Unless he was hoofing it, it’s safe to assume he’s within a nine mile radius or so. We can shave off, like, two miles, since people tend to take breaks. How fit is your Dad?”
“He doesn’t get out much,” I admit. Now that there are four pairs of eyes on me, with me, my panic is slowly lessening from a screaming typhoon to a shouting hailstorm in my head.
“Places,” Burn grunts.
“What?”
“What are some places he likes?”
“The corner grocery, but someone said they saw him walking in the opposite direction,” I say. “The, um, the park. The little one by the middle school.”
“That’s it?” Wolf asks. “There has to be more than that.”
“I told you, he doesn’t go out!”
“Right. I believe you. We’ll just…split up into teams, and check those two areas. We need someone to stay at the house, though, in case he comes back.”
Fitz and Burn look to me, but Keri shakes her head.
“Oh no, absolutely not. He’s her dad! I’ll stay here, and you go find him, Bee.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
“Burn, Fitz, you check the park,” Wolf says. “Bee and I will head to the store, see if anyone saw anything. Call me when you’ve scoped the place.”
Burn and Fitz nod, and Burn heads to the convertible. Fitz lags behind, throwing an arm around my shoulder and hugging me close.
“It’ll be okay.”
We part, and I force a smile. I watch them go, then give Keri the keys to the house. Wolf turns to me, offering a helmet with a determined expression.
“Let’s go.”
I never thought I’d ride Wolf’s motorcycle again. I never thought he’d allow me that close to him, after what I did. But here we are, me holding the seat for dear life so I don’t fall off and him driving, faster than he used to with me in the back. But not fast enough.
“Can’t you go any faster?” I ask at a stoplight. Wolf turns his head over his shoulder.
“Yeah. If you hold on to me.”
“Is that – is that okay?”
“Right now, yeah.”
I lace my arms around his torso, and he revs the engine. The speed at which we take off is blinding – my stomach feels like it’s floating away inside me. Just for a second. Just one second of floating, of holding onto Wolf, and then everything comes crashing down. If we don’t find Dad – if we can’t find him even with this many people –
I hug Wolf tighter, and try to drown the voices crying out about Dad’s demise in the howling wind of the road.
****
Bee holds on to me because she’s scared.
Not because she needs me. Not because she cares for me. I have to remind myself of that as we’re driving, as she’s asking the store clerk if he’s seen her dad in a shaky voice.
I’d ask myself why I’m here, but I already know the answer to that. It’s her. It’s her voice, hearing it on the phone and drinking it in like it was sweet honey instead of a sound. It was everything I wanted but refused to acknowledge; her voice in my ear. But it was wrong. She was hurt. Scared. Alone.
My mind went blank, and next thing I knew I was there, in front of her.
‘I love you’.
I wanted to say it to her the moment I saw her. But there wasn’t time for that. She was confused enough as it was, and terrified. Laying my own emotions on her right then would’ve been wrong. So I bit my tongue.
I bite my tongue now, as we stand on the grocery store curb and try desperately to figure out where to go from here. The grocery store clerk hasn’t seen him. No one has seen him.
Maybe I’ll bite my tongue forever.
I watch her, the way the dimming sunset plays over her face. It’s anxious, but still the prettiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen. It wouldn’t be so bad, biting my tongue forever. If I can be here by her side – if I can watch her face the way I do now, but more often, if I can help ease her worries, soothe her overburdened heart – then biting my tongue forever will be worth it. I’m sure of that.
“What do we do now?” She asks me. “No one’s seen him. He could be anywhere, he could be hurt –”
Her shoulder start to shake. I put my hand over hers, and squeeze.
“We have to think. Are there any place he likes? Any places that are special to him?”
“No! There’s nothing besides this! I can’t think of anything, and the longer I stand here the bigger the chance he’s hurt himself – he could already be dead, and I’m just standing here - ”
I pull her into me like I did that day to protect her from the motorcycle. I hold her close, tight, to remind her I’m real.
“I need you to calm down,” I say into her hair. “I’m here, okay? I’m here to help. I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise.”
It’s a huge, terrifying promise. But I mean every word of it.
“You were right. About everything,” She sobs. The sound tears my heart in two.
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t happy. But hanging out with you, getting to know you and Burn and Fitz – that was the first time I’d really been happy in a long time.” She shakes her head in my shirt. “I was scared all the time that Dad would leave. I wanted to do something about it, try to stop it, try to help, and all I could think of was Lakecrest. NYU. Doing something made the fear quieter.”
She looks up at me, eyes puffed and red.
“I’m so scared.”
“But you aren’t alone,” I say. “We’ll find him. Together.”
She goes still against me, then sniffs, taking a deep breath.
“There’s an old playground,” She says. “On the bluff, just outside town. He used to take me there all the time.”
“It’s worth a shot.” I nod. “Tell me where to go.”
Bee points over my shoulder as we ride down the highway, telling me to turn. It’s farther out than I thought it was. The bluff is old, overlooking the ocean, but the playground somehow feels older, with all the layers of rust on the swing set and graffiti on the walls of the little bathroom shed. The sun is nearly gone.
“We have to move fast,” I say. “Before we lose light.”
She nods, expression determined. “We’ll split up. I’ll check that way. You check over there.”
“Good thinking.” I flash her a grim smile, but she just turns and takes off running. I head towards the edge of the bluff, a sick pit hardening in my stomach as I know, deep down, I could be looking for a corpse instead of a living, breathing human being.
It’s been four years since I’ve seen one.
I shake my head. No. I can’t let what happened to Mom happen to Bee’s Dad. I can’t let her go through that. If you’re listening, Mom, help me. Help me find him, before it’s too late.
I check the path down the bluff. Nothing. The path up the bluff is steep, and I struggle to hurry up the rocks. I crest the hill, what’s left of my breath punching out of me at the sight of a man sitting on the very edge of the bluff, the wind throwing his hair every which way.
He isn’t slumped. That’s a good sign.
“Mr. Cruz?” I call out. No response. It’s his outline, his shoulders, his hair color from what I can remember of that time I kidnapped Bee. “Mr. Cruz? Can you hear me?”
He looks over his shoulder, eyes weary and black-circled. “Oh. It’s you. The little punk on the motorcycle.”
He can recognize me. That’s another good sign. I straighten.
“Yeah. Wolf Blackthorn. I came here to –”
“To find me,” He finishes for me, and chuckles. “I know. Bee dragged you out here. I knew she’d remember eventually.”
“She’s worried about you,” I say.
“Constantly,” He agrees, then pats the ground beside him. “Come. Sit.”
I hesitate, and he sighs.
“I’m not going to kill myself. It’s okay. Just sit down.”
I do, nervously and slowly. Our legs dangle over the edge. Mr. Cruz is wearing a starched shirt and slacks. He looks almost put-together, a far cry from the man I saw at Bee’s house that day.
“She’s stubborn,” Mr. Cruz says. “She never gives up.”
“Tell me about it,” I groan. I raise my cellphone to call her, but Mr. Cruz stops me with his fingers around my wrist.
“Don’t. Not yet. Please. There are some things I want to say, without her here.”
I lower the phone and put it back in my jacket. “Alright.”
He takes a deep breath. “I haven’t been….a good father. Or a good person, lately. Sickness or not, I should’ve at least made the bare minimum of effort to be there for her. And her mother. But I wasn’t. And I don’t think I can, as long as I’m this sick.”
“We can get you help,” I say. “There are good therapists –”
He laughs. “Have you seen our house? We can barely afford my gauntlet of monthly pills, let alone a therapist.”
It’s then I notice the suitcase next to him. It’s small, but big enough for travelling.
“Mr. Cruz –”
“Bee is a smart, ambitious, driven girl,” He interrupts me. “She’s kind, and self-sacrificing to a fault. But she’s sacrificed too much for me. I realized that, the other day. I’m a fool for not seeing it sooner. If the illness beats me into the ground, I can take it. I’m fine with it. But it beat my little girl’s spirit into the ground along with it. And that’s something I can’t stand.”
He eyes my fingers, the silver rings gleaming in the sunlight.
“She got you that one,” He points at the wolf’s head ring. “For her birthday.”
“What?”
“She saw it in a pawn shop. I asked her what she wanted for her birthday. She said she wanted that ring. I had no idea she – ” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I had no idea she wanted to give it to you. I thought she just started liking jewelry all of a sudden.”
“She gave her birthday gift….to me?” I whisper. He laughs.
“I told you. Self-sacrificing to a fault.”
I’m quiet. I rub the ring slowly, feeling its every curve.
“I came out here,” Mr. Cruz starts. “To do some thinking. It’s hard, sometimes, to think when you’re trapped in a room. In a house. Seeing the sky always used to help me. So I figured I’d go where I could see a lot of it. And this little playground holds a lot of good memories. It helped me get clarity.”
“Clarity for what?” I ask. He turns to me, suddenly deadly serious.
“I’m going back to my sister’s. For a while. Until I can get a handle on this monster inside me. She knows someone who will work with me for a reduced price. And the distance – I think Bee’s mother and Bee have earned a break from me.”
“Mr. Cruz, I don’t think that –”
“You have to promise me,” He continues, eyes boring into mine. “You have to promise me you’ll see to it that Bee’s happy while I’m gone.”
“Sir –”
“Oh, it’s sir now?” He laughs. “You never bothered with that before.”
I’m quiet, struggling for words. He sighs.
“She likes you, you know.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
“I’m her father. I can see it plain as day. She used to only like boy bands. Fantasy book princes. She’d stare at these big old posters she had of them on her walls all the time with this goofy look on her face.” He chuckles. “I still remember the first concert I took her to. She lit up when they walked on stage.”
He pokes me in the chest. “But you? She looks at you, and she glows. Doesn’t light up all bright and ecstatic and off-the-wall. None of that obsession stuff. She just…looks more alive, when she sees you. She looks more like my little girl, the one who wasn’t so worried all the time. The one who used to smile like she meant it.”
“I –”
“Do you love her?” He asks. He uses words, but it feels like he just physically punched me in the chest. I struggle for air.
“Yes. Ever since – ever since I read her essay.”
“Essay?” He quirks a brow.
“She wrote one, to get into Lakecrest. I – I kept it. Read it over and over. She writes very well.”
“Of course she does.” He points at himself. “Got it from me. But what was so special about that essay? Why did you like it so much?”
“I didn’t like it,” I correct. “I liked the person who wrote it.”
“Why?”
“Because –” I clear my throat. “Because it made me feel not alone. It made me feel like there was someone out there who could understand me, who was like me. And then I met her, face-to-face, and I – and since then I –”
He’s watching me. I stare at the sunset, squaring my shoulders for strength and spinning my wolf ring.
“I tried to get her expelled,” I say. “Because I thought I knew her better than she knew herself. I knew from the essay she wanted to write, to go to Sarah Lawrence. I couldn’t stand watching her go to a school she didn’t like, forcing herself to study just to take on a burden that was too big for her.”
“Part of that is my fault,” Mr. Cruz said softly.
“It’s no one’s fault,” I say. “Bee just decided to make it all hers.”
He’s quiet, folding his hands on his lap. I fiddle with one of my rings.
“It was wrong of me, to try to get her expelled. She suffered for it. And that’s the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen.”
Mr. Cruz shakes his head. “And yet here you are, helping her find her father. Why is that, exactly? What does Bee mean to you?”
“She…helped me work through my past when I thought no one else would ever bother. She never once ran away, no matter how difficult I was or how dark my problems were. She’s very gentle. When she laughs it’s like…like all the thoughts in my head just get blown away, and all I want to do is make her laugh again.”
I spin the wolf ring faster.
“I want to protect her. I want to show her a world where she doesn’t have to carry everything on her shoulders. She’ll keep trying to carry everything. But I want to help her hold it up, if I can. I want – I want to help her. I want her to do what she loves, for herself, instead of everyone else. I want her to enjoy her own life.”
I can’t look at him, my eyes fixated on the sunset.
“We aren’t - your daughter and I aren’t on the best of terms, anymore.” I manage. “Not that we ever were. So if you leave, I can’t promise you that I’ll make her happy. I can’t promise you that, but I can promise you I’ll always watch out for her. I’ll always be here if she needs something, or someone, to help her. I –”
My chest caves in on itself, the pain shooting through my ribs.
“ - I’ll do everything I can for her. And maybe, maybe there’ll be a day where she finds someone else that makes her happy. But until then – until then I’ll be here.”
There’s a long quiet. I try to breathe, evenly, like it will disguise the fact I’m in pain. I mean every word of what I’m saying, but something deep inside me is recoiling, crying out.
I don’t just want to watch over her until she finds someone to love her.
I want to be that someone.
“What do you think, Bee?” Mr. Cruz asks lightly. “About all this?”
My heart jumps into the base of my throat. I turn to see Bee standing there, panting, her hair wild and her eyes watering. Her expression is torn. Mr. Cruz stands, and she runs to him, wrapping her arms around him.
“I w-was so worried –” She stammers, muffled by his shirt. He hugs her back.
“I know. I’m sorry, sweetpea. I should’ve left a note at the very least, but I know you. I know you would’ve ignored it and worried until you had to come find me.”
“So you’re really leaving?” She asks him, and he nods.
“Yes. But there’ll be plenty of time to talk about that later. I understand you were worried about me, but this young man has just poured his heart out to you. I think he deserves a bit of recognition, at the very least.”
“I –” I swallow hard, fear burning my stomach. “I should go. I’m glad you found him, Bee.”
I hurry down the bluff, my blood rushing in my ears. How much did she hear? Why didn’t I just look behind me before I said any of that? The last thing I wanted to do was burden her even more with my own feelings, but I’ve done it, and it can’t be taken back. She knows. She knows how I feel about her. I want to leap into the darkest, deepest hole I can find and never come out again.
I mount my motorcycle and pull my helmet on when I hear the voice.
“Wolf!”
Bee runs towards me, and she stops in front of my bike. She’s breathing heavily, having run all the way down the bluff, but she can’t look at me, and that only makes my stomach sink more.
“I’m…um. I’m having a birthday party,” She says to the ground. “Before Dad leaves. On Saturday, probably. Do you think….did you want to come?”
“Yeah,” I manage. “Okay.”
I push off the curb and leave her behind, my thoughts swirling. She didn’t say anything about what she heard. Maybe she’ll say something at the party. Of course – that’s why she’d invite me. We can’t see each other at school anymore, so she’s made one last time. One last opportunity to tell me she doesn’t feel the same way. To say goodbye.