Vengeance (24 page)

“Okay, so she’s at the hospital or something … maybe that’s why I don’t feel anything. That makes sense.”

Yes. No. I didn’t know. My mind was mixing things up, like the way I saw Delaney in the water instead of Tara. I couldn’t think straight. I was panicking over nothing. Over everything. Did I kiss Delaney to night? Wasn’t I on my way to be alone with her? “What the hell is happening?” I said.

She looked somewhere past me, I could hear the water
lapping against the shore nearby, and she shuddered. “We have to go home,” she said.

It was weird to come home together. To the same place. To see our parents sitting on the couch together, having a drink. It was weird to see them all turn to us at the same time, with the same expression. A second of confusion seeing us together, seeing my fingers interlaced with hers again, before their faces turned momentarily up. Until they got a better look and saw the dirt on my hands. On Delaney’s face. At our clothes, coated in ice and mud.

Joanne spoke first. “Where are your shoes?”

I looked down. Delaney was wearing only socks. Guess she left the boots at Maya’s. I’d been dragging her through ice and dirt and she was barefoot. “Tara Spano was found in the lake,” she said as an answer.

Then her hand left mine, flew to cover her mouth, and she ran up the stairs. Her slamming door shook the entire house.

“We’re waiting to hear,” I added.

“Oh my God.” Delaney’s mom was on her feet, heading for the stairs. I beat her to them.

“Decker,” my mom said. “Let Joanne.”

But I ignored her. I took the stairs two at a time and didn’t knock. I threw the door closed behind me, slamming it just as hard as she had, house rules be damned. Then I fell beside her on her bed, in the empty space she’d been curled around. And I rested my face against her collar, hearing her heart, beating
strong. A second later she wrapped her arms around my back, pulling me closer, and whispered the words I’d been waiting to hear. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

My phone rang a little while later, when I was stuck between wake and sleep. We both jumped up. I saw it was Justin, and my fingers shook as I pressed Answer. “She’s not dead,” Justin said, and I felt everything inside of me uncoil.

“She’s okay?”

“Kevin called from the hospital, said she wasn’t dead—unconscious from hitting her head is all. Took in some water and stuff. But her parents were taking her home. That’s the last I heard. He’s not answering his phone anymore. His parents are going to kill him. …”

“Okay,” I said.

Justin started coughing. I heard him clear his throat and groan. “I gotta go,” he mumbled. The phone clicked off.

Delaney was standing up in the pitch-black room. “She’s alive,” I said. She started looking through her drawers, and her breath was speeding up when it should have been slowing with relief. I stood up and walked toward her. Out from under the covers, I was shaking. My clothes clung to me, stiff and cold and dirty.

“Hey.” I put my hand on her arm to steady her. “She’s alive.” I cleared my throat. “You saved her.”

“I didn’t,” she said, yanking out some random pajamas and slamming the drawer shut. “I didn’t do anything.”

“But you saw her. You were looking and you saw her.”

“That doesn’t mean I
saved
her.” She spat the word out, like it was vile. Her whole body stiffened. She cleared her throat. “I
saved
someone else once.”

“You did?”

“A boy. Our age, I think. He was going to have a stroke and I told his nurse and they had him at the hospital in time. My doctor said I saved him, too.” She shook her head, the saddest thing. “He’s a vegetable,” she choked out. “Do you think I saved him, Decker? Should I have said anything at all?”

I had no idea what to say. “I never know what to do,” she said. “I never do the right thing. I tried so hard with Carson. So hard!” I realized in that moment that she’d never been allowed to grieve for him. Not with the guilt. Not with Janna pointing her finger at her. Not with the rest of us all caught up in our own grief.

“I know you did,” I said. “But Delaney, Tara is
home
.”

Her hands stilled, and she turned to face me. “She’s okay?” she asked, her voice full of need.

I wasn’t sure. I hoped I wasn’t lying when I said, “She’s fine.”

I watched her face turn from hope to relief, I saw a ghost of a smile, I heard the breath she let out as a laugh, and all I could think was,
Please let it be true, please let it be true
.

I heard our parents’ voices carrying from downstairs and knew ours were probably carrying as well. “I should go,” I said.

“Oh.” She held up her clothes, like she thought I didn’t think I should see her get changed.

“I mean, I’m gross, and I’m messing up your bed,” I whispered. “And your parents are going to kill me.”

“You can wear my clothes,” she said. I laughed.

“I’m not wearing your clothes.”

She smiled, too. It felt like we’d beaten the curse somehow. Tara lived. Delaney found her, and I pulled her out of the lake and she lived. We were
smiling
.

“Decker Phillips: too good for my clothes and too good for my room,” she said, which was her way of asking me to stay.

“For future reference, next time you’re trying to lure a guy to your room, don’t offer to dress him up like a girl. I’ll let it slide this time.” Which was my way of saying yes.

Yes, of course I would stay. “I should stay on the floor,” I said, listening to the voices carry from downstairs.

She nodded and pulled out an extra pillow from her closet. She took the comforter off her bed and laid it on the floor. And while I was setting it all up, she got dressed, before I could see. She had on an oversize sweatshirt. Pajama pants. “Seriously,” she said. “You need to change.” She pulled at the bottom of my shirt. Lifted it up. Ran her hands along my stomach as she pushed my shirt up over my head.

We heard footsteps on the stairs. Her eyes widened, and I stepped away to the side of her bed. I lowered myself under the comforter on the rug. She got into bed. The door opened, but nobody said anything. We pretended to sleep. We pretended to sleep for so long, I
was
sleeping.

“
Decker
.” I heard her voice, her fingers digging into my leg. “
Her or me
,” she asked. “
Her. Or. Me
.”

I woke with a start, feeling cold. The comforter was around my waist. I looked up at Delaney’s bed, but it was empty.

Then I saw her shadow in the open doorway. She padded back into the room and shut the door behind her.

I pushed myself up on my elbows. “Delaney?”

“Did I wake you up?” she asked.

“No,” I said, my eyes adjusting to the dark. “I thought you left me here.”

“Bathroom,” she said. Then she padded across the floor and lowered herself beside me. “I wouldn’t leave you.”

She meant the words to be reassuring, I was sure—especially tonight—but they stung. Because I did leave her. And one day, she would too. “I did leave you,” I said.

“Decker, it’s—”

“No, I mean, before.” There was something else at the core, and I was scared it was going to rise up again, when we least expected it. “I want to fix what ever is broken. I’m just not sure how. I can’t undo it. And you can’t forget it.” I couldn’t look at her when I said it, so I stared at the ceiling instead. This was the moment where she would see it, too. That we were unfixable, ruined by what we’d done to each other.

She slid under the covers, and I moved over to share the pillow. “Nothing’s broken,” she said. “It’s just our life.”

She put a hand on my chest, moved it down to my stomach. Put her head on my shoulder. “Go back to sleep,” she said. My breath caught in my throat. And with her hand on
my stomach and her breath on my neck, there was no way in hell I was going back to sleep.

I turned to face her, kissed her so she’d know it wasn’t just the clothes and Halloween and the party. That I loved her even though she picked my father’s wishes over my own. Maybe even because of it.

Chapter 15

Everyone was in the living room by the time I got downstairs. I heard them all talking. “She hit her head,” Joanne said. “She slipped and hit her head. She needed seven stitches.”

“How long was she in the water?” my mom asked.

“Not too long, I guess. They stumbled upon her just in time.”

I walked out from the stairwell, and Joanne said, “Ah, the hero awakes.”

My mom gave me a look over her coffee. The look said,
I hope you practiced your apology because now would be a good time to use it
.

Delaney walked out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” I said. Both her parents looked up. “I was upset. I wasn’t thinking. And then I fell asleep.” Part of the truth. Enough of the truth.

“All right,” Joanne said. “Tara’s okay.” Ron shook the newspaper in front of his face, which was his way of disagreeing.
Joanne shot him a look—shot the newspaper a look, anyway. “It’s okay,” she mouthed, sending me an apologetic smile. As far as they knew, I slept on the floor anyway. Alone.

My mom was still giving me the look. “And it won’t happen again,” I added. And then I looked down at the state of my clothes.

Delaney stood in the entrance of the kitchen, leaning against the doorway, trying not to smile when she looked at me. I was trying not to smile at her. We were both losing. I turned away before someone would notice. “I’m gonna run home for warmer clothes,” I said.

“Tomorrow,” my mom said, “you’ll have a home again.” I walked across our yards—the ice had melted, but the ground was still wet, cold. I shook my head. I’d been waiting for over a month to move back in for good. And now I wanted to stay. To have an excuse to end up on Delaney’s floor in the middle of the night. To see her first thing in the morning, with her messy hair and ridiculous-looking pajamas. To have her yell at me for drinking all the milk and putting the empty carton back in the fridge.

I pushed the shades in the living room apart, letting light—and hopefully some warmth—inside. I turned on the shower after stripping off my dirty clothes, but I had to keep the bathroom door open for any trace of light. The water ran completely cold—it was probably the fastest shower of my life, but at least it woke me up.
Tara was in the lake but she’s alive. She’s alive
.

What the hell is happening?

My phone was ringing when I stepped out of the shower. Justin. “Tell me,” he said, in a raspy, tired voice. “Tell me that that did not just happen. Tell me that I was so doped up on cough medicine that I passed out and had the most fucked-up dream and you all brought me home while I was unconscious.”

He coughed. Choked. “Tell me that Tara was not facedown in the goddamn lake. Tell me you didn’t have to pull her out.”

“She’s alive,” I said. “She’s okay,” I added.

“It’s coming
for us, Decker,” he said, and I felt goose bumps form as the water dried off my skin.
Water in my house. Glass on her floor, like ice
.

I walked out of the dark hall toward the front windows and watched Delaney’s house. “Stop. You’re being ridiculous. It’s a lake. It’s water. It’s rain. It doesn’t do anything. God, listen to yourself!”

“Tell that to Tara,” Justin said before he started coughing again.

“She was drunk. She fell. She hit her head,” I said, reciting the facts, the things that were real. And when he didn’t respond, I repeated, “She slipped and hit her head.”

“She slipped. She was sitting there with us. Where the hell was she going? What was she doing outside?”

I didn’t know. Maybe leaving. Maybe clearing her head. “What does it matter?” I asked.

“Are you a moron?” Justin yelled. I jerked the phone away from my ear. “Open your eyes. Carson. Tara. It’s coming for us, Decker. It’s coming for us all.” His words dissolved into a fit of coughing and wheezing.

“Calm down, Justin. Calm. Down.”

“I will not calm down,” he said. And then he lowered his voice. “We rescued her and it’s coming for us.” Finally putting into words what we were all thinking. Delaney, cold and blue, on the shore of the lake. We had taken her back. “What the hell was Tara doing at the edge of the lake, anyway? The cooler was up on the patio. Thought she’d take a nice stroll? It was sleeting out, for fuck’s sake.”

“Calm. Down,” I repeated, even though I had no idea what she was doing by the lake.

Water in Kevin’s car. Water in Justin’s lungs. In Tara’s …

“Even Janna is freaking the hell out,” he said.

“I’m gonna go see Tara,” I said, forming the plans as I spoke, then realizing I needed to get my car, which was still parked on the other side of Falcon Lake.

The walk to the other side of the lake always seemed longer in the daylight because I could see how far I still had to go, how little progress I was making. It’s why I made Delaney cut across the frozen surface last year. It looks pointlessly long when you can see the house directly across the way, a tiny dot on the opposite shore.

The farther I walked, the guiltier I felt about dragging Delaney back, walking barefoot over the wet, cold ground. And for what? Because I was disoriented and freaked out
about the number of rooms in their house. And so what if their mom was home or not. Ridiculous.