When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,106

me.

Ms. Reed arched a dubious brow. “I can’t release these records to you, but if you’re going to be at a different address than what we currently have on file, give it to me and I will make sure it’s sent there as fast as possible.”

“Fine.” I fished in my coat pocket for my wallet. I pulled out the card of my family’s lawyer, Albert Bernard, and wrote my name on the back. “This is who you send it to. His office in Paris.”

Ms. Reed took the card and peered at it.

“You got that? Albert Bernard. Paris.”

“I can read, dear,” Ms. Reed said, then smiled thinly. “I’ll see that he gets it.”

“Thank you. You’ve been a huge help,” I muttered bitterly and stormed out.

I was nearly free when Ms. Watkins’s voice sounded from behind me.

“Holden? Holden wait—”

I walked faster but the woman was persistent; her heels clopped on the sidewalk as I strode back to the parking lot.

“Holden, please…”

I ground out a curse and whirled around. “What is it? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“I never heard back from you about the MFA program at the university.”

“Something else has come up.”

“You mean you’re running away.” She cocked her head, concern painted all over her face. “Are you really going to leave the country? By yourself?”

“Safer for all involved.”

Ms. Watkins’s face was irritatingly sweet in its concern. “I disagree. I’m worried about you. I don’t think it’s healthy. You need stability. Community—”

“Please don’t psychoanalyze me. It’s been tried. It failed. You’re a teacher. A great teacher, Ms. W.” I walked backward toward the car. “The best I’ve ever had.”

“Holden, wait—”

“But let’s not make our relationship more than what it is,” I said with a cold sneer, because she was still trying, goddamn it. “That’s all you are to me. A high school English teacher.”

She stopped short, the hurt coming over her face like a slap.

“Bye, Ms. Watkins.”

I climbed in the car and shut the door. The self-loathing burrowed a little deeper as we drove away, leaving her standing on the curb.

So what? Let her be the savior for someone worth saving.

James took me home and I dove headfirst into my stash of vodka and didn’t come up for three days. The money still wasn’t there, but River was. Just down the street. I could walk down the hill anytime I wanted, bang on the door, fall at his feet and beg him to forgive me.

Then the accident would screech into my thoughts with screaming tires and shattering glass. His blood, black on the white airbag…

How would I love you sound coming out of my mouth then? Tainted. Bloodstained.

“It’s too late,” I muttered. “The damage has been done.”

And it was irreversible.

Late one night, the vodka told me it would be a good idea to stumble out of my house and wander the darkened, quiet neighborhood. I obeyed and nearly crashed into a “For Sale” sign in front of a huge house a few doors down from Mags and Reg. A peek in the window showed that it was vacant, waiting for a family to move in.

I went around back and found an unlocked window. I climbed in with no small amount of noise and roamed the empty house while an imaginary real estate agent took me from room to room.

And here is the pool where you’ll be able to swim without fear.

And here is the garage where he’ll tinker with old junkers, happy and safe.

And here is the kitchen where he’ll cook or you’ll call for takeout.

And here is the dining room where you’ll sit and eat together and talk about your day.

And here is your office where you’ll write.

And here is your bedroom where you’ll spend your nights, tangled and sweaty, his arms around you to keep the cold away.

A strangled laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob erupted out of me.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered to the empty house. “I’ll take it.”

A week later, it was time to say goodbye to Miller.

We met him at the Shack—Violet, Shiloh, Ronan, and myself—under a cold gray sky, no one saying much but all of them shouting volumes at me with their eyes. Pity, mostly, I thought as I sipped from my flask that had become glued to my hand. Pity that I’d never been able to bring River to the bonfires and sit in front of the flames with his arms around me the way they all did.

The way they did that day.

Violet cuddled against Miller. Shiloh sat with her back to