When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,27

I said, low and cold. “We’re not.”

Like the calculus formula. We can’t be made into something different.

I said nothing more for the duration of class, half of me feeling like shit for ignoring Holden and the other half denying that I gave a fuck. He trashed my best friend’s house. He was a pompous asshole who thought he knew me. I didn’t owe him anything.

I repeated the thoughts to drown out other unwanted feelings. Like my body’s hyperawareness of Holden’s proximity and the constant urge to look at him. To soak him up. As if he were a classic painting with a thousand details waiting to be discovered under all those layers…

Stop.

When the bell rang, I gathered my stuff and tried to hurry out, wondering how I was going to get through the semester with Holden sitting beside me. There was a bottleneck at the door as Reynolds handed out study guides. Holden lounged in his seat, making no damn effort to conceal who he was watching.

Frustration bit at me. The same flavor of frustration I’d had at the party, where I wanted to grip him by the lapels of his fancy coat and—

Tear it off?

Goddammit, I shouldn’t be having these thoughts or reactions. I didn’t have them until Holden.

Didn’t have them or didn’t hear them?

Not going there.

A couple of students asked me about the Central Capitals chances this year for another championship and if I’d seen the latest season of Ozark. I muttered a few polite answers and wished the damn line would speed up. Holden had risen from his seat and was only a few paces behind me.

“I heard about your mom, River,” Angela Reyes, a shy, quiet girl said in a low voice. “I’m so sorry.”

The punch to the gut was swift and hard. I’d forgotten about my mother and I blamed Holden for that too. He’d infiltrated me, uninvited, and sucked out everything but him.

“Yeah, thanks.”

I snatched the guide out of Reynolds’s hand and pushed out into the brilliant sun. Around a corner, I leaned against the wall, crumpling the paper into a ball.

Holden came around the corner a moment later. “You okay?”

“Sure. Great. Never better.”

“What happened to your mom?” he asked quietly. “If I may.”

I nearly didn’t tell him. Why would I? Why let him get closer?

“Cancer. Stage four. It started in her liver and now it’s in her pancreas and upper intestine.”

Holden’s face went still. “I’m sorry.”

I pushed off the wall. “Yeah, thanks, I gotta go…”

“River, wait—”

I whirled back around. “Jesus, why? What do you want?”

“To apologize. For what I said in the closet.”

I tensed all over. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Holden’s green eyes bored into mine. “Isn’t there?”

Again, it was as if he were seeing straight into my heart and mind, reading every secret I had hidden away…even those buried down so deep, I’d forgotten they were there. Until him.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but I don’t need this bullshit,” I snapped. “Just leave me alone.”

Holden’s jaw clenched, pain flashing across his eyes. And even though it felt like shutting a door he’d opened, I walked away.

The school day couldn’t end soon enough. I slammed the front door of our house and took the stairs up, hoping for a few minutes alone to mentally put myself back together before football practice.

“River?”

My mother’s voice was weak but enough to reach me from her door that was cracked open.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, stepping inside. She looked so damn small in that big bed.

“I won’t keep you. I just wanted a word.”

“Of course.” I set my bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, trying for a smile. “What’s up?”

“Don’t do that, please,” she said gently.

“Do what?”

“Pretend.” She ran her fingers down my cheek and then tucked them into my hand. “You look frazzled. Or troubled.”

“It was a weird day at school. They voted me Homecoming King.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re not thrilled?”

“You being thrilled makes me thrilled.”

“You’re the sweetest.” Mom hugged me, her body so perilously thin and frail in my arms, I feared I’d break her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you happy?”

I scoffed lightly. “How could I be?”

“I don’t mean about me. I mean everywhere else in your life. Are you happy? It’s your senior year…”

“Yeah, it’s going great. All five days of it so far.”

“Smartass.”

“Better than being a dumbass.”

“True.” Mom’s smile softened. “I just worry sometimes. Your father is so earnest and single-minded when it comes to your