When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,119
upon thousands of cries for help.
And no one answered.
He’s calling to me.
I shut the trunk and went to my laptop. Google told me the Le Bristol Hotel was in the 8th Arrondissement of Paris. That didn’t mean anything to me, but now I had an address.
I hurried from my room and knocked on Amelia’s door. My sluggish blood felt electrified. Fear and hope and love—God, the love came rushing at me, full force, whacking me so hard when I’d started to forget how strong it was.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Amelia said from inside her room.
“Amelia, I need to talk to you.”
“Go away, River.”
“That trunk downstairs? It’s from Holden.”
I heard a rustling, then the door flung open. Amelia grabbed my arm, pulled me into her room and shut the door. “You heard from him? Oh my God, sit down. Tell me everything.”
I chuckled lightly. “I don’t know much. He sent me old journals he wrote during a pretty fucking terrible time in his life.”
“Okay so…why? What does it mean?”
“It means I have to go to Paris.”
Amelia cocked her head sarcastically. “Uh huh. Oh, I forgot to mention it, but my ex-boyfriend called me. He’s really sad so I have to jet off to Tahiti to cheer him up.”
“I know it sounds crazy, but I think Holden’s hurting really badly and I…”
“Miss him?”
“To put it mildly. But I need your help, Amelia. I can’t leave here if I think you’re just going to get in trouble again. Or hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt, for crying out loud.”
“Says the girl I just picked up from the police station.”
Amelia held my gaze, defiantly, then flopped back on her pillows. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that everything feels so pointless. Like, my friends at school talk about the stupidest shit and I just want to grab them and scream in their faces, None of that bullshit matters.” She shook her head, face crumpling. “I just miss her, River. I miss her so much.”
I lay beside her on the pillow, shoulder to shoulder. “I know. Me too.”
“Yeah?” Amelia said, a hint of accusation in her voice. “Of the three of us, you’re the only one who seems to have his shit together.”
“We’re taking turns being a mess.” I nudged her arm. “You’re taking a really long turn, by the way.”
“Ha ha.”
My smile faded. “Amelia, I haven’t heard from Holden in almost a year. And it really fucking hurts. Every day.”
“On top of missing Mom.”
I nodded, my own tears pricking my eyes. “And now I have a chance. If something happens and I didn’t at least try to be there for him, I’m not going to be okay. I’m not going to be okay at all.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see what happens when I get there. If he hasn’t taken off again.”
A shiver wracked me to think Holden might regret sending me his journals and had disappeared all over again.
“Are you going to bring him back?”
“That’s not up to me. He has a lot of stuff to get through.”
“Like what? You never told me why he left in the first place.”
“Because he thinks he’s no good for me.” I looked over at her. “Can I trust you with something personal?”
She nodded quickly. “Yeah, sure.”
“When he was fifteen, Holden’s parents sent him to conversion therapy.”
My sister’s eyes widened in fury. “To try to make him not be gay? Assholes!”
“They taught him that he wasn’t worth anything the way he was, and it stuck. As much as I…care about him, I can’t magically fix him. It’s not possible. But I can let him know I’m still here.”
“A year’s a long time, River,” Amelia said gently. “How long will you wait?”
“However long it takes.”
“You really love him, huh?”
I nodded. “But I love you too. And I can’t go to France and spend the entire time scared something’s happening over here. I need to be able to trust you.”
“You can trust me, River. Even though it looks like I’m caught up in my own shit and get pissed at you sometimes—”
“A lot. You get pissed at me a lot.”
“Shut up, I’m trying to apologize. I see how hard you work for us. And how sad you are, though you don’t show it. I see it.”
“Thanks, Amelia,” I said, relief and the electric nervousness humming through me that in less than twenty-four hours I might be with Holden.
“When will you leave?” she asked.
“As soon as possible. Right now, actually,” I said, getting