Aidan grabs his copy of It and then heads for the now-vacant bed. “It’s my room, so I hope you’re not expecting me to leave.” His tone is light verging on playful as he stretches out and kicks off his sneakers.
I ignore him. “Now’s good,” I tell Noah, struggling to match his careful tone. “Why don’t we go outside?”
Aidan keeps his gaze on his book, but as I head for the door, he says, “Let me know if you need rescuing.” He adds something low and in French, the words too quick for me to catch. Unlike Joey, I think his accent is just fine.
God save me from flirtatious boys who speak French and who may or may not like chubby girls, I think as I follow Noah down the hall.
Twenty
I KNEW WE’D SPENT MOST OF THE DAY WATCHING MOVIES, but it’s still surprising to see the sun sinking toward the horizon as I step outside and follow Noah across the backyard.
“How was the lake?”
“Depressing. I thought getting my mom out of the house for a few nights might help, but all she did was beg to come back. She wanted to be here in case Riley came home. She’s still convinced she hears him at night. I’m driving her down to Saint John later this week. There’s a psychiatrist there who specializes in grief and trauma. Her doctor thinks it might help.” Noah shakes his head. “When we got back to the house, she said someone had been inside. She said it must have been Riley.”
Warmth creeps across my cheeks. Even in the fading light, he catches the blush.
“It was you?” he says slowly. “You broke into the house?”
“I didn’t break in. Not exactly. I just remembered where the spare key was.” Maybe I should apologize, but I don’t. I kick off my shoes and then step out onto one of the large rocks at the river’s edge. I sit and slip my feet into the water. It’s cool, but not unpleasantly so. “I just wanted to see his room.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I glance over my shoulder. Noah is watching me. “I really don’t know,” I say. Even I can hear the defensive note in my voice.
As long as we’re careful, there’s enough space on my rock for Noah to sit without running the risk of touching me, but he rolls up the bottoms of his jeans and wades into the river, coming to stand next to me instead. We both look out over the water, at the reflected glow of the setting sun.
“Yes,” he says. “You do. I don’t think you’re the kind of person who ever does anything without having a reason.”
I’m not sure why I don’t want to tell him. Maybe because I’m not sure I can wrap my head around my feelings about Riley. They’re messy and complicated, and I don’t know how to sort through them. “I don’t really know Riley. It’s like there’s two of him. There’s the Riley I remember from when we were kids, and there’s this other Riley who everyone else knows. The one who crashes boats and plays basketball and dates blond girls named Amber.”
“Everyone’s like that, Cat. Everyone shows different sides of themselves to different people at different times. I’d think you, of all people, would know that.”
“It feels like more than that. The difference is just so huge. I thought, maybe, if I saw his room, it would help.”
He’s quiet for a minute. Like he was choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think the difference is as huge as it looks on the surface. A lot of it was an act for our father. Riley thought that if he could be perfect, Dad might stick around. He tried to make himself into what he believed our parents wanted. He always had trouble accepting that our father is just an asshole.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve always been a disappointment, and I’ve never had any illusions about who my dad is.” Noah’s voice is so matter-of-fact. Like he’s telling me he has brown eyes or dark hair.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Jensen told me that Riley had problems. Did people in town know about the OCD?”
“Some people suspected, I think. If they were around him enough. But he was good at hiding what was going on. He worked at hiding it. Because of Dad, I think he worried other people might think less of him if they knew. I’m not sure he gave people enough credit. I think they would have understood. Much more than he thought they would.”
“How did he hide it?”
“He had tricks.”
“Like?”
“Like if he felt like he had to write something down or say something to himself, he’d haul out his phone and text. Pretend like he was texting someone else when it was really just himself. If he had to count something, he’d tap it out like he was just tapping out the beats to some song stuck in his head.” Noah shrugs. “I don’t remember them all. We didn’t really talk that much after I left for school.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I was busy with stuff there and he was busy with things here.” He pulls in a deep breath. “I was majoring in psychology. Did I tell you that?”
I shake my head.
“I had it all planned out. Undergrad. Grad school.”
“Did you pick psychology because of Riley?”
“No.” He glances at me, maybe to make sure I’m really interested and not just being polite. “I took an intro class, and one of the assignments was to find five research papers and summarize them. All I had to do was pick papers at random, but I spent hours checking out different titles and ideas. It was the only class where I wasn’t reading things just because I had to. I figured that had to be some kind of sign. I think it was maybe the first time I ever thought I could be really passionate about anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Everything, I think. For Riley and his mom and the fact that he had to give up school to come back here. “Does your dad know? Does he know what’s going on with your mother?”
“Yeah.” So much heaviness is in that one word. Noah draws his arm back and then flicks his wrist, like he’s skipping an invisible stone across the water.
“Is he going to come back?”
“Would you want to come back to this?”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything. I’d like to think that I’d step up and do the right thing, but I guess it’s easy to say that when you don’t have to back it up.
I slide off the rock and into the water. It’s colder than I thought it would be, but I wade out until it’s up to my waist. When I’m far enough, I let myself fall so that I can float on my back. We used to do this when we were kids sometimes. We used to float.
Noah wades farther out. He dunks his whole body under and then comes up next to me. The water along this stretch of the river is calm and slow, but even so, we gradually drift from Aunt Jet’s property line over to the Frasers’. The water is deeper here. Too deep to touch the bottom with my toes.
“I’m sorry, too,” he says.
“For what?”
“All that stuff I said at the diner. For acting like I knew what I was talking about. I didn’t have any right to act that way.”
“No, you didn’t.” I’m grateful for the growing dark around us. Some things are easier to say in the dark. Sometimes, darkness can make you brave. “You weren’t entirely wrong, though. I told you not everyone wants to touch and be touched—and that’s true—but I’m not sure it’s true of me. You asked if Riley was the only person I’ve ever kissed. He’s not.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not anything really traumatic or anything.” And it really wasn’t. There was a guy. There was a party. There was a moment when I allowed myself to think that maybe things could be different, that maybe I could be different. There was the press of lips and fumbling hands and a tiny, tiny moment when something inside of me flared to life. And then I saw what he wanted. Who he wanted. And it wasn’t me. But I’m not going to tell Noah that. It’s sad and humiliating, and I’m worried it would change how he look
s at me. “I just thought I should tell you that you weren’t wrong.”
“I still shouldn’t have pushed you. Not the way I did. I thought I knew what was best for you. It was stupid.”
“And arrogant. Don’t forget arrogant.”
“That, too.”
It’s strange, floating out here in the dark. It’s quiet and peaceful, but eerie. In the distance, I can see the lights from the train bridge reflected on the water’s surface. Unbidden, an image of Rachel pops into my head. Her tangled hair. Her wet clothes. The marks on her arms. I shiver. The movement makes me sink, just for a second.
I come up sputtering. Noah tries to reach for me, tries to help me, but that just makes it worse. I go under again as I try to avoid his touch. When I come back up, I swim for shore.
“What is it?” He’s right beside me, matching my strokes. He follows me up out of the water.
“I’m sorry, I just . . . One second I was in the river with you, the next, I was seeing Rachel. The way she looked when we found her.” I’m still shivering. I can’t stop.
“Just a sec,” Noah says softly. He jogs across the yard and disappears into his house.
I sink down to the ground as he reappears and makes his way back to me. He’s carrying an old plaid blanket. He drapes it over my shoulders and then settles beside me.
“Thanks,” I murmur, tugging the blanket more tightly around myself.
He studies me for a moment, then tilts his head back and looks up at the night sky. “After that day at the mill, I’d see things. Her. Nora Knight. When I was dreaming, of course, but I’d see her lots of times when I was awake, too. I could be walking down the street or the hallway at school, and all of a sudden, I’d glance down and there she’d be, on the ground.”
“It’s different.”
“Not that different.”
“Rachel wasn’t dead.”
“No, she wasn’t.” He turns his gaze back to me. “I’m not sure that makes finding her any less traumatic.”
“We have to find out what happened to her, Noah.” Haltingly, I fill him in on how I had tried to do as he’d asked and what happened when I touched Harding. “I don’t think I can control it. It definitely didn’t feel like I had any control.”
“Do you think what you saw means anything?”
“No. I’m not religious, but it seems like fire and brimstone might be a logical fear to have inside a church.”
“What about the people you were with back at the house?”
“What about them?”
“Did you try to touch any of them?”
“Why would I?”
“Because we should be looking at everyone. We should consider every possibility.”
“I told you: if I try to touch everyone in town, my head will explode. Besides, Skylar and Chase were with me when I found Rachel, and Aidan and Joey were both at home. None of them could have been involved.”
Noah looks like he wants to argue, but he just says, “So then what were you all fighting about? I could hear the guy with the glasses all the way downstairs.”
“That was Joey. Joey—who has read many fine horror novels and watched hundreds of horror films—thinks a monster is behind Riley’s disappearance and what happened to Rachel. Like, an actual monster. Possibly from Maine.”
“Why Maine?”
“Because that is where Stephen King lives. Stephen King, according to Joey, is not so much crafting fiction as he is telling it like it is. Keeping it real, if you will.”
“You’re joking.” Noah stares at me, waiting for me to laugh. I don’t. “That’s ludicrous.”
“Says the guy who asked for my help because he thought I was psychic.”
“Completely different. For all intents and purposes, you might as . . . well— Wait, you don’t honestly think he has a point?”
“No. I think he’s being really, really ridiculous. Possibly delusional. I’m just pointing out that there actually is weird, inexplicable shit in the universe.” Somewhere in the distance, one of the neighborhood dogs starts to bark, reminding me of something else Joey said. “Did you know people’s pets started going missing in December? That people were told to keep them inside because someone was hurting them?”
“I was away at school.”
“Riley didn’t mention it? Or your mom?”
“No reason they would. Not like we have a dog or a cat. What else did Joey say?”
“That he wants to talk to Rachel Larsen.”
Noah leans forward, plucks a blade of grass and rubs it between his fingers. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. About how we should talk to her once she’s home.”
“Do you think we can afford to wait until then? If Joey goes up to the hospital and starts asking her about monsters . . . if he gets to her first . . .”
“You think he’ll make her so uncomfortable that she might not talk to anyone else?”
I nod. “We should go before they send her home. Tomorrow, maybe.” Another thought occurs to me. “And I think we should ask Aidan to come with us.”
“The guy who rents a room from your aunt? The one who looks like a walking ad for hair products and is somehow under the impression that you might need rescuing?”
My lips quirk a little at that. Aidan really does have ridiculously good hair for a boy. “You don’t like him?”
“I don’t care enough not to like him. I’m just not sure why you want to bring him along.”
“Because Rachel probably isn’t going to remember me. If she does, the memories aren’t going to be great.”
“And I’m just Riley Fraser’s freak older brother.” The words are flat, said without any emotion. That doesn’t mean they’re emotionless.
I remember how Skylar touched Joey up in Aidan’s room. Light, comforting touches that are taken for granted. I wish, suddenly, that I could touch Noah. I could chance it, I could touch him somewhere safe, but touching people at all is a dangerous habit—one I can’t afford to fall into. “Rachel doesn’t know you,” I say gently, “and she doesn’t know me. I think having someone with us who she does know might help.”
Noah sighs and climbs to his feet. “All right. We can ask your boyfriend to come along.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say as I stand. There’s a weird, defensive note in my voice. When Joey and Chase imply Aidan might be into me, it’s exhilarating and a little confusing—though not in a bad way. With Noah, it feels different.
And I have no idea why.
He follows me to the hedge. When I reach the gap, I turn and shrug off the blanket. “Thanks,” I say, handing it back.
“Cat?”
“Yeah.”
“I knew the library didn’t have a second floor.”
I smile a little at that. “Good.”
He hesitates for a second, like he wants to say something else, then gives his head the tiniest of shakes. “Good night, Mary Catherine.”
As I squeeze through the hedge, I feel a small, puzzling flash of disappointment. When I get to the top of the porch steps, I glance back. I think I see a shadow—Noah, watching to make sure I get inside—but it might just be my imagination.
Twenty-One
WHEN I GET BACK INSIDE, I FIND AIDAN SITTING ON THE bottom of the staircase, dressed for a run and lacing up his shoes. His gaze travels over me, slowly, and he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “Did Fraser try to drown you? Did I drop the ball on the whole ‘rescuing’ thing?”
I stand there, self-conscious and dripping on the hardwood floor. I am very, very glad my T-shirt is black. “Impromptu swim.”
“Little late in the day.”
“Says the guy going out for a night run?”
He slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a phone. “Joey forgot it. Figured you wouldn’t feel like seeing him again tonight, so thought I’d go for a run and swing by his place.” The phone disappears back into his pocket. “And I need a break from Skylar. She’s convinced you’re mad at her. There are only
so many ways a guy can say ‘wait and talk to Cat’ without losing his mind. I swear, if they could find some way to convert her angst into fuel, it would solve the energy crisis.”
I feel like I’m two steps behind. “Skylar is here?” I glance back at the small window next to the door. Sure enough, her car is still in the driveway. I’d been so preoccupied that I had walked right past it without noticing.
“She’s in your room. I thought you guys were having a sleepover?”
“Well, yeah, but after the thing with Joey, I just figured she left with him.”
“You thought she bailed on you to chase after her boyfriend after her boyfriend was rude to you?”
“Well, yeah.”
“That is some stellar forward-thinking feminism.”
“You are not seriously going to sit there and try to mansplain feminism to me.”
“No. Now, if I were Joey . . .”
“Why are you even friends with him? Seriously, though.”
Aidan stands and shrugs. “Decent entertainment value. Plus, as previously noted, all the free video rentals I can watch.”
“You know you can just stream things now, right?”
“Streaming lacks poetry. Also, if you haven’t noticed, your aunt’s Wi-Fi really sucks.” He grins, but then his expression slides into something uncharacteristically serious. “On the off chance you actually are mad at Skylar, do me a favor and go easy on her? She really does feel bad—both for what Joey said and for not pushing back against him more. Joey will be sorry, too. Once he calms down. He does this sort of thing sometimes. He acts like everything is part of a plot from a movie. I’m pretty sure it’s some sort of coping mechanism. He’s been feeling massively guilty that he didn’t stay with Skylar the night you guys found Rachel, and so he’s acting like this.”
I’m still fairly certain Joey being there would have made the situation exponentially worse, but I don’t point that out. “I need to ask you a favor,” I say instead.
You Were Never Here Page 17