She leaned over the railing at the end of the pier and closed her eyes as the sea spray mixed with the tears on her cheeks. How had everything gotten so complicated, so frightening, so quickly?
She felt him behind her before he even spoke.
“I’m sorry, babe.” He pulled her away from the railing and drew her into his chest. “I’m trying to protect you from getting hurt. You know that, right?”
She nodded, though she was crying even harder now.
He buried his face in her hair, his lips against her ear. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I talked to Jimmy about this whole thing.”
She pulled away. “You what? When?”
“Shh. It’s okay.” Zach led her to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. “I called him last night, after you told me about the picture.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know, but I had to find out what was going on.”
“What did he say?”
Zach looked away. “You know Jimmy. He talks big. Half the time you don’t know what to believe. But one thing he said, I do believe. He said this all goes away if you tell the cops to forget about it. Tell them you made it up, or were confused, or whatever.”
Emily bit her lip. She wanted to scream, but instead, she said nothing. A girl was dead, and Jimmy’s blue beer concoction was to blame. She didn’t make it up. She wasn’t confused. And she would not, could not tell the cops to “forget it.” For the second time that afternoon, she walked away from Zach. This time she didn’t want him to follow her, not even a little bit. This time she was afraid of what she might say to him if he did.
What she didn’t know was that it would be the last time she’d see him for three months.
When she walked in the front door, two deputies sat waiting in her living room. They gave her fifteen minutes to pack a suitcase before they whisked her, her mom, and her sister away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Thanksgiving started out quiet. Ember was grounded after the Saturday night debacle, but it didn’t matter much. All of her friends had family stuff going on. She and Tricia helped their mom cook a small turkey with dressing and sweet potatoes and parsley and a whole table full of fixings, but somehow it felt all wrong. She missed their kitchen back in Jersey, with its temperamental oven, and stained linoleum floor, and the faucet that leaked unless you turned the handle to its precise “off” position.
“How about we start a new tradition this year?” her mom asked as they finished eating. “In our new life as the O’Malleys, the mom takes a nap after dinner while the daughters clean up.”
“That’s a horrible idea,” Ember said. “Besides, we’re not going to be O’Malleys much longer. You can’t call something a tradition if it only happens once.”
“I’ll clean up.” Tricia grabbed a couple of plates and took them to the sink. “Who knows? We might still be O’Malleys next year.”
Ember sighed at the hopeful tone in her sister’s voice. “Don’t count on it.” She grabbed the bowl of leftover cranberries and wrapped plastic over it. “We’ll be back in Jersey by Christmas if everything goes as planned.”
Everything would go as planned. At least, she hoped it would. Didn’t she?
Halfway through washing the pots and pans, they were startled by the sound of the doorbell. She and Tricia looked at each other. They’d never had a visitor here before. Well, except for Deputy Steuben, but surely he wasn’t working on Thanksgiving.
“Quiet,” their mother warned. She crept over to the window and peered out through a crack in the curtain. She turned and smiled. “It’s your friend. The editor boy.”
Ember’s eyes grew wide. Not the editor boy. She was a mess. She had on ratty sweatpants, no makeup, and … was that a gravy stain on her shirt? Oh, jeez. She motioned for her mother to wait, but it was too late. She was already opening the door and inviting Charles in for pumpkin pie. Lovely.
“Hey, Charles.” Ember draped her right hand over her left shoulder in hopes of covering up the gravy stain. “What are you doing here?”
Charles’s smile disappeared. “I wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving. Sorry. I guess I should have called first?”
“No, no.” Ember shook her head. She was being rude. “I’m glad you came.”
She was glad he came. And that he was thinking about her. She’d been thinking about him this week, too. More than she cared to admit. More than she’d thought about Zach.
Charles glanced back and forth between her and her sister, taking in the dishtowel Tricia was holding. He pointed toward the kitchen. “How about you wash, I dry … ” He pointed to Tricia. “And you put away?”
Tricia nodded and handed over her towel, her eyes shining. Ember glanced at her mom and suppressed a smile. He was quite the charmer.
After dishes and her mom’s homemade pumpkin pie, Charles stood and stretched. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Malley. That was amazing.” He glanced at Ember. “Would it be okay if I take your daughter for a quick walk?”
To Ember’s surprise, her mom nodded. “Don’t be too long.”
He really was a charmer. Ember rushed to put on a jacket before her mother could change her mind.
The streets were empty—even emptier than usual, and warm lights glowed in the windows of every house. The blue glow of televisions flickered here and there as families gathered to watch Thanksgiving football.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” Charles said. “I should have woken you up. I had no idea Claire was looking for you.”
“Don’t apologize. You had no way of knowing my ridiculously early curfew.” Ember glanced up at him shyly. “Anyway, it was kind of worth it.”
True, she’d slept through it, but just knowing she’d been pressed up against Charles in his sexy white T-shirt for almost an hour had caused butterflies to take flight in her stomach on more than a few occasions over the past week.
Charles smiled into the distance. “Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”
Ember stopped. What had she said? She tried to keep her voice even. “I do not.”
“You do.” He turned to face her. “It’s a little freaky, I have to tell you.”
She shrugged, still attempting to appear nonchalant. “What did I say?”
“Nothing that made any sense. Something about blue beer and purple kites. Dreams are bizarre, aren’t they?”
Ember turned and started walking again. She didn’t trust her expression. “My dreams never make any sense. They’re obviously colorful, though.”
They walked in silence for a while, until Charles cleared his throat. “So. I’ve been wondering about something.”
“Okay.”
“Remember in the Super Saver, when you were talking about that guy from Philly, and you said things were complicated. What does complicated mean, exactly?”
Ember stopped again. What did “complicated” mean at this point? She wasn’t sure she even knew. She and Zach hadn’t communicated in two weeks, and she had no way to reach him. For some reason, all of his Internet accounts had gone completely silent, so she had no idea what he was up to. The last thing she knew, surfgurrl had called him her boyfriend.
Meanwhile, here in front of her was a boy who, despite all of her efforts to convince herself otherwise, she was clearly crushing on. A nerdy, strip-dancing, football-superhero, pirate-loving cowboy who thought her dreams were worth dreaming and who stopped by out of the blue to wish her a happy Thanksgiving.
Of course, he also thought her name was Ember O’Malley and that she was a nice girl from Philly.
Ember turned and headed back toward home. She chose her words carefully. “When people say ‘complicated,’ it’s because they don’t want to have to explain. Or because they can’t.” Her voice caught. “I’m sorry, Charles. I wish I could give you a better answer.”
Charles said nothing until they reached her front yard. “You okay?”
Ember nodded, tears pricking the corne
rs of her eyes. “I’m good. And I do appreciate your coming over today. And helping with the dishes. That was super nice.”
He shrugged. “I’m a nice guy. And simple. As in, not complicated.”
Ember couldn’t help but smile. “And I like that about you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The next Monday, after football and cheer practice ended, Ember met up with a bunch of kids to go to the bridge. Ever since she’d moved to Boyd County, she’d heard people talk about an old covered bridge where teenagers drank and partied and generally got into mischief, but she’d never been there, and she was a little nervous about going now. She was still grounded, but she’d lied and told her mom she had a photo assignment for the Bulletin.
She wanted to see what the place was like, and she wanted to feel a part of something, a part of a group. And, yes, she wanted any excuse to hang out with Charles again. She would be heading back to Jersey in about a week. If things worked out, she might never see him again.
“Wine cooler, beer, or water?” He fished a bottle of each out of an ice bucket as she walked up.
Ember took the water and smiled. “Thanks.” She peered up at the bridge, its wood faded to a pale gray, its roof falling apart at the far end. It spanned a smallish creek, though the size of the banks indicated it had once been much larger and deeper. “So this is the infamous bridge.” She tried unsuccessfully to keep the disappointment out of her voice. What had she expected? It was like so many other things here. Old. Bland. Washed out.
“Yep. Lots of water has gone under that baby.”
Ember groaned. “You are so lame.”
Charles grinned and motioned for her to follow him through the growing crowd and up onto the creaky wooden planks. He stopped just inside the entrance and peered around. “In all seriousness, if this bridge could talk, it would have some crazy stories to tell.”
The light was dimmer and softer in here, and the smell of moss and pine permeated the air. Ember traced her finger along the etchings in the bridge walls.
JS + BD 4EVER.
Britt Luvs T-Bro.
MD <3 OT.
She was suddenly very aware that she and Charles were alone, and that many, many couples had been alone in here before them. Not that they were a couple.
He led her to the center of the span, where a hole in the wall looked out onto a small waterfall below. A mottled brown bird with a bright yellow chest sat atop a post on the far bank.
“Look how pretty.” Too bad she didn’t have her camera. She’d left it in the car because … well, she knew as well as anyone that cameras and partying didn’t mix.
“That’s a meadowlark.” Charles leaned in close and whispered. “If we’re lucky, he’ll sing for us.”
They stood still and listened for several minutes until at last the bird craned its neck and warbled a sweet, happy tune.
“Wow.” Ember had never heard anything like it. She was used to the screech of seagulls and the short pips of sandpipers.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Charles took out his phone and began scrolling. “I helped rescue a baby meadowlark last spring.”
“Really?”
“Yep. A cat had killed his mom and the rest of the nestlings. They build their nests on the ground, so that happens a lot.” Charles stopped at a photo of the bird and showed her. “This little guy was running around chirping up a storm. I brought him inside and raised him for a few days before we could get him to the rescue.”
“Oh my gosh. He’s adorable.”
“That’s what I thought, until he turned out to be a total pain in the butt. Had to feed him constantly. I spent hours digging up bugs and picking berries, and after all that, it turned out his favorite food was Frosted Flakes.”
Ember laughed. “How funny. And sweet.”
Charles fumbled with his phone as he tucked it back into his pocket. When he spoke again, his voice had a rough, grainy quality to it. “You’re sweet.”
“Me?” Guys had called her a lot of things lately, but sweet wasn’t one of them.
“Yes. And pretty, and smart, and talented, and … ” He leaned toward her, and she closed her eyes so he could kiss her. It was a warm, tender kiss, nothing like the kiss in the barn. Where that kiss had been a tidal wave, rough and disorienting, this one was a gentle whirlpool that sent her stomach, her head, her heart a-twirl. And where she had felt immediate regret after the first kiss, she knew that no matter what happened, no matter how things turned out, she would never regret this.
“Sorry,” Charles whispered. “That was … not simple.”
“Oh, but it was,” she said.
“I’m really glad you came. I’m glad you’re here.”
Ember rested her forehead against his chest. He felt sturdy and safe. “Me too. But I’m dead if my mom finds out.”
Charles laughed. “I didn’t mean here, to the bridge. Though I’m glad about that too. I meant I’m glad you came to Boyd County. I’m glad you came into the Bulletin office that day with your old-school portfolio and your adorable smile and those weird little tan lines on your ear. Which, by the way, have almost faded.”
Ember pulled away and looked up at him. “You noticed the tan lines?”
He raised one eyebrow. “I noticed everything about you. I didn’t understand most of it. Still don’t. But I notice. And I’m really, really, glad you’re here. I almost can’t remember what it was like before you came.”
She leaned back into him. Oh, my. He was into her. A part of her wanted to accept that, own it, but the truth was, he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand any of it, and if he did, he wouldn’t be so glad she came. She pressed her face into his shirt so he couldn’t see her tears. Why couldn’t things be simple? She was a teenage girl standing in the middle of an abandoned bridge in the arms of a boy whose kisses made her want to forget the rest of the world existed. Why couldn’t that be the whole story?
She stood like that for a while, melting into his breathing and the steady beat of his heart, until a shout and a splash drew her attention to the water below.
A guy from the football team had jumped in, fully clothed. Two other guys stood on the bank laughing at him.
Charles leaned out. “Schmidt, you idiot. What are you doing?”
“It was a dare. These losers thought I wouldn’t do it.”
“You mean those losers standing over there, all nice and dry and warm?” He lowered his voice and murmured into Ember’s ear. “Schmidt’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“Who’s that up there with you?” Schmidt stood and waded closer, stumbling across the rocks on the creek bed. “Oh, ho! It’s the new girl.” He turned and called to his teammates. “Hey, guys, Charles has a girlfriend. It’s that photographer chick.”
“Shut up,” Charles shouted. “Her name is Ember. And you’ve had a few too many. Get out and dry off.”
Schmidt stopped and peered up at them, his face suddenly thoughtful. “Look at you two love birds. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet up there on the balcony. Wherefore art thou and all that. Whatever you do, don’t jump.”
Ember looked at Charles. “Jump? Why would we jump?”
Charles shook his head and shrugged.
“You know. The balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet.” Schmidt threw his hands up in the air. “Everyone says it’s such a tragedy, but I say it’s stupid. They fall in love and kill themselves.”
Ember gave him an incredulous stare. “By jumping.”
“Yeah. Suicide.”
Ember and Charles burst out laughing.
“Of course. The famous balcony scene,” Charles said.
“One. Two. Three. Jump!” Ember added.
Schmidt looked back and forth at them, his face growing bright red. Finally, he turned to his teammates on the bank, who were falling over themselves in hysterics. “What the … why would you do that?”
“Maybe you should’ve read it like you were supposed to,” one of them yelled back.
&
nbsp; “I mean, come on, Schmidt,” said the other. “You seriously believed Mercutio was a droid?”
Schmidt smacked his hand on the water. “Screw you guys.”
Ember clutched Charles’s arm. “A droid! Something tells me he didn’t do too well on that test.”
Charles snorted. “Like I said, he was never too bright. He once wrote an entire essay about Dickens’s A Christmas Carol … all about a guy named George Bailey whose bank was about to go under until his guardian angel helped save the day.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I swear.”
“How the heck can he—” Ember stopped as a thought struck her. Oh, no. How could she have missed it? She leaned against the side of the bridge, her knees suddenly weak. Of course. It made so much sense.
“Are you okay?” Charles’s expression registered somewhere between concern and alarm. “You look like you’re about to puke.”
Ember shook her head and bolted off the bridge. She needed time alone to think. She finally understood what Tommy Walker and the coach were doing that day under the bleachers.
The question was, what should she do about it?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Give me a B!”
Ember slouched over on the bleachers and cradled her head in her hands. Would this pep rally never end?
For the past two days, she’d debated. Should she nark out Tommy Walker, Coach Sebastian, Schmidt, and whichever other players might be fixing their grades, or should she keep her mouth shut?
No doubt everyone here would hate her if she ruined the school’s chance to go to the state championship game. And ultimately, that’s all it was—a game. It wasn’t as though someone had drowned. On the other hand, she knew that somewhere out there was a team who deserved to play on Saturday, a legit team. They were not having a pep rally. They would not be on TV and in the papers. And they would not be adding a trophy to their school’s trophy case. Not to mention there were kids here, like Claire, studying their butts off to get grades they’d actually earned. It was so unfair.
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