A Million Times Goodnight

by Kristina McBride

“Oh, yeah?” Roller asked. “How’s this going to work?”

  “I’m in charge. And right now, I’m offering you a clue. You taking it?”

  50

  GRANT ISLAND, FLORIDA – 6:43 PM TRIP ODOMETER – 873 MILES

  “ONE CLUE?” Ben asked, his eyes burning.

  “Take it or leave it,” I said, the wind whipping against my body, sand stinging my cheeks.

  Ben looked defeated. “What happens after I get this clue of yours?”

  “You follow it wherever it leads, which, I might add, is far away from here. Far away from me. And Josh. When you get there, you’ll be reunited with your precious cargo.”

  I left out the part about the Kentucky State Police. That we’d called in a tip, and they would be waiting to bust Ben and Roller when they arrived at the rest stop to dig up the package. That he would also be dealing with the fallout from the pictures, which Josh and I planned to take to the police as soon as we returned to Oak Grove and talked with Penny’s family. Add the Free Agents to the mix, and Ben and Roller were facing a pretty major shit storm.

  Ben looked out over the ocean, scraping his hands through his hair. His shoulders rippled beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and I couldn’t help but think of all the times I’d run my hands across the ridges of his body. How I thought he was so good when really he was as messed up as you could get.

  “This is not how I expected things to end.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” I said. “You thought you’d be the one calling the shots.”

  “Where’s the clue?”

  I pointed to the lighthouse door, the one with the sign that said CLOSED FOR RENOVATION.

  “At the top.”

  51

  THE WITCHES’ TOWER – 6:49 AM

  “AT THE top?” Ben stared into the dark opening, his eyes resting on the bottom step of the spiral staircase.

  I smiled then, leaning forward, my hair sweeping over both of my shoulders, glinting in the lemon-raspberry light of the rising sun. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  Roller started forward, his feet tramping the soft grass. “I don’t have time for this shit,” he said. “Tell me where it is.”

  Ben’s hand shot forward, grabbing Roller by the wrist and jerking him back.

  “What the fuck, dude?” Roller asked, yanking his arm from Ben’s grasp, the storm in his eyes raging.

  Ben shook his head and stepped forward. “I’ll get the clue,” he said. “I’ll finish this.”

  52

  GRANT ISLAND, FLORIDA – 6:49 PM TRIP ODOMETER – 873 MILES

  “A VERY wise decision,” I said, my hair whipping free. As free as Josh and I were about to be.

  Ben stepped forward, reaching out, placing his hand on my cheek, the rough skin of his thumb rubbing up and down in slow motion. “You’d better not be fucking with me. If this clue of yours is a trick—”

  “Nothing tricky. It’s just a slip of paper. You’ll find it at the top, weighted down by a rock.”

  “And how far out of the way is this going to take me?”

  “Not out of the way at all,” I said, tipping my face away from his hand and taking a step back. “I promise.”

  “I need this to work. I’ve spent too much time trying to get myself out of this mess.”

  Ben turned, pressing his shoulder against the door to the lighthouse, pushing his way into the dank-smelling space, toward the spiral staircase that led to the lantern room.

  “Oh, yeah. One more thing.”

  53

  THE WITCHES’ TOWER – 6:53 AM

  “WHAT?” BEN asked. His eyes flared as he turned to face me from the tower’s doorway.

  “You and me? We’re through.”

  Ben’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted, but I never got the chance to hear what he wanted to say.

  “Cut the crap,” Roller said from behind me, his gritty voice like sand in my ears. “Get your ass up there, Baden, and find her stupid little clue.”

  I turned to face Roller. Smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you.” The staircase began to creak under Ben’s weight. “Too bad it all turned out to be true.”

  “Watch your mouth.” Roller took several long strides toward me, one arm outstretched.

  I stepped back, twisting sideways, but my heel caught in the grass. I lost my balance and fell to the ground.

  Roller stood over me, his head tossed back, laughing.

  54

  GRANT ISLAND, FLORIDA – 6:53 PM TRIP ODOMETER – 873 MILES

  JUST AS Ben disappeared through the doorway, I turned and raced back to the parking lot, the steady rush of the waves warning me, insisting that I move faster.

  I heard him before I saw him, the gritty sound of his angry laughter whipping in the wind, lashing at me, trying to keep me away. But I wouldn’t go. Couldn’t. Not now.

  He was facing the ocean, his back to me, feet spread wide.

  I looked for Josh, rounded the car and found him lying on that flowing ribbon of white sand, one hand pressed to his mouth, blood pouring from his lip.

  “Get up!” Roller shouted.

  His foot jerked away from the ground, a spray of sand arcing in the air, his arms spreading like wings as he kicked back and then forward, and the toe of his heavy black boot crashed into the side of Josh’s body.

  “Your plan just blew up in your face!” Roller yelled. “I want my shit and I want it now. Understand?”

  I watched his hand sweep to the waistband of his jeans, curl under the hem of his hooded sweatshirt, and jerk free.

  And then something changed.

  His hand was weighed down.

  Larger.

  When I forced myself to focus, the strawberry-orange glow of the setting sun framed his silhouette.

  55

  THE WITCHES’ TOWER – 6:59 AM

  “YOU’RE CRAZY if you think I’m just going to let you go,” Roller said, his hand soaring above me, the raspberry-lemon glow of the rising sun framing his silhouette—sparking off the gun in his hand. “With everything you know, there’s no way I’m going to risk you talking to the cops.”

  I didn’t speak. I didn’t dare.

  I stayed curled up on the grassy blanket beneath me, wondering if Roller could possibly be as crazy as everyone had always said.

  “I’ll figure out a way to keep you quiet later. First, let’s start with the basics. I want my package. And you’re going to give it to me. Now!”

  I looked at his feet, at the glimmer of dewdrops shining on his heavy black boots. “I told you. I don’t have it.”

  “But you know where it is.” Roller crouched to the ground. I focused on the veins bulging from his neck instead of the hurricane in his eyes. “Which means you can take me to it.”

  “I can’t. I only know what the clue says. It was a precaution. In case something went wrong. You can’t have the package until we get away.”

  Roller cocked his head to the side. Bared his crooked teeth. “We?”

  “I,” I said. “Until I get away.”

  Roller reached out with his free hand and grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet, pulling me against his body.

  I heard it then, the groaning protest of the spiral staircase, just before Ben raced out of the door, hand held high, fluttering a single sheet of paper in the air. “Got it,” he said. “It’s close to … Whoa, dude, what are you doing? I told you, she’s off-limits.”

  Roller pressed the gun to my temple. “We’re not alone.”

  “I’m right here.” Josh’s voice broke the morning in two, rippling in waves that seemed to come from a million different directions at once. “Come and get me, asshole.”

  Roller shoved me forward into Ben’s chest and spun around just as Josh stepped out of the shadows, one arm raised, his hand outstretched, flashing in the light of the sun.

  It didn’t make sense, the fire and light, fractured and shattered.

  Then my eyes focused, and I saw it.

  The shiny smooth surface prot
ruding from the tight clasp of Josh’s hand.

  The barrel of a gun.

  56

  GRANT ISLAND, FLORIDA – 6:59 PM TRIP ODOMETER – 873 MILES

  “STOP!” I yelled, the wind stealing my voice.

  I shoved my hand into the pocket of my jacket, my fingers stretching and wrapping, pulling and jerking until they were free.

  “Roller!” I yelled, raising my arm, the gun heavier than I expected, its weight threatening to pull me to the ground. “I said stop!”

  I narrowed my eyes, seeing through the blur of my lashes. And I aimed, ran my thumb down the slick surface of the safety, unlocking the trigger.

  He turned then, the wind blowing his hair wild around the frame of his face, his eyes going wide.

  “Hadley!” Josh yelled, rising up on his knees, falling forward, grabbing Roller’s legs.

  Then came the fireworks—the flash-pop-bang echoing hard in my ears.

  57

  THE WITCHES’ TOWER – 7:01 AM

  THE CRACKING sound rocketed through the trees, spiraling around the tower, bursting up to the tie-dyed sky.

  I flinched, pressing my hands to my ears, and squeezed my eyes tight, wondering how—why—Josh had a gun.

  Everything stopped.

  But only for a moment, as the echo of the gunfire tripped up and away.

  I heard rustling first, feet in the grass.

  And a single, scratchy word. “Fuck!”

  Sunlight pierced my eyes as I dared a glance.

  Ben was beside me, his back pressed against the tower’s curved wall. Roller was running past the BMW, twisting to get one last look over his shoulder.

  And Josh, my Josh, lay crumpled at the foot of the sisters, the trunks of their braided bodies pillowing his head.

  “Josh!” I yelled, scrambling to him, grabbing his hands, his skin so cold against mine. I pulled him to me, hearing a bubbly wheeze in his throat. Felt something warm spread across my chest and thought it was my heart breaking open.

  “You okay?” he asked, his words hot and wet, his eyes shining bright.

  “I’m fine,” I whispered, gripping him tight. “And you will be, too.”

  His head fell back onto my leg, and I boosted it up, cradling it in my arm, scooting closer. Shifting sideways, I found Ben still pressed against that glittering stone wall, his face white.

  “Call for help!” I shouted.

  He parted his lips, his eyes flashing wild. “I don’t have my phone,” he said. “You do.”

  “I don’t!” I shouted, my mind twirling and whirling back and away.

  And then it was there, all of it, rushing me, the jagged pieces of a thousand dreams.

  The picture of me on Facebook.

  The tower, the moon, and the glittering green of Josh’s eyes.

  The drugs and the girls and Penny with her million goodnights.

  The rest seemed mixed up—there was the vibration of tires on pavement, the glow of headlights on an interstate sign, the feel of my fingers digging in dirt, and the salty scent of the ocean.

  But none of that mattered at all. Nothing. Nothing but Josh.

  I turned, my hands frantically searching, remembering the back pocket of Josh’s shorts.

  “Hadley,” he breathed, his eyes a blazing green fire.

  “Don’t talk.” I reached underneath his body, grabbing his phone and pulling it free. “Just breathe.”

  Hands shaking, slick with blood, I powered the phone on, pressed the nine and the one and the one. My voice shook and it echoed. It tore through the light.

  Josh widened his eyes, raised one hand, his fingers spread wide.

  The calming rhythm of the operator’s voice called out from the grass. “… already en route …”

  His fingers were ice, roaming my cheek, his palm shivering softly against my skin.

  He parted his lips, offering me three words. The faintest whisper.

  “A million times …”

  And then it was raining, my tears on his face.

  I wrapped my arms around him so tight I thought he would never slip free.

  But still, the light drained from his eyes.

  The life soared from his body.

  And I folded myself in half, covering him until the sirens came and they pulled me away.

  58

  GRANT ISLAND, FLORIDA – 7:01 PM TRIP ODOMETER – 873 MILES

  A WHITE-HOT fire ripped through my chest, a streak of lightning knocking me down.

  My face hit a pillow of scratchy sand. My teeth bit into my tongue.

  And then he was there, leaning over me, his hands fluttering, his voice shaking.

  “Hadley,” Josh’s eyes blazed green fire. “Hadley?!”

  I tried to find words, to force them out, but something heavy pressed on my chest, my throat closed tight, and I was cold. So cold.

  Josh looked over his shoulder, the ocean breeze tossing his hair. He shouted something about a phone.

  Mine was still in the console of the car.

  Or in the ravine.

  I wasn’t quite sure anymore.

  “Jesus Christ!” I heard. Ben—his voice faint as a whisper. “What did you do?”

  I wondered if he was talking to me. Or the shadow looming behind Josh.

  But nothing seemed to matter. Not as I looked into Josh’s eyes.

  “Hang on,” he said, his voice cracking. “Just hang on, Hadley.”

  I smiled.

  Reached a shaking hand to his face, my fingers grazed the velvety fabric of his skin.

  “Goodnight,” I choked out.

  Josh’s voice spiraled through a tunnel of wind that smelled of trees and dirt and tears.

  I wanted to tell him. I needed him to know. But I felt dizzy and faded, like the wilting shades of purple and blue that someone had streaked across the sky, the echo of promises whipping away on the waves of the ocean.

  59

  SEVEN MONTHS LATER

  “IT’S IN,” Mia said from behind me, the two words nearly masked by a steady hum of tires running along the pavement below us.

  I sat shotgun in Brooklyn’s parents’ minivan, acting as if I hadn’t heard. Everyone was waiting for me to respond.

  Instead of speaking, I pressed my finger against the switch that opened the window, closing my eyes against the crisp November air. The surge of sound that streamed through the car was deafening, just as I had hoped. My hair whirled around my head, whipping my face. The feeling was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I didn’t try. I stuck my hand out the window, palm curved, and watched it ride the air.

  “The verdict,” Mia said, her voice loud but tight. Shaky. “It’s in.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I shouted over my shoulder. “That’s why we’re here, right? Instead of the courthouse. We all agreed.”

  “We did,” Brooklyn said, her voice coming from behind me. Behind Mia. “You didn’t want to be there. So we’re here instead, ditching class for a week. Supporting you all the way.”

  “Just like always,” Mia said. “But we never said we were going to ignore the outcome. I mean, this is huge, Hadley.”

  “I know.” I looked out the window, my eyes gliding over the arched M of a fancy-looking McDonald’s. “I just don’t think I can.”

  “Well, I want to hear it,” Tyler said from beside Brooklyn. I looked back, past Mia in her bucket seat, to the third row. “I want us all to hear it. Right now. Together.”

  “He should have a say in this,” Sam said from the bucket seat next to Mia. I tipped my head toward her, thinking for the millionth time that she was incredible, that I would never be able to repay her for what she had done.

  “I suppose you think you have a say in this, too?” I asked. “After all you did with Ben’s computer. You broke the whole thing wide open. Handed the police a virtual road map of that stupid club.”

  “Piece of cake.” Sam shifted in her seat, raising one leg to rest a heavy black boot on her knee. “Tyler’s the one
who had the biggest impact. The way I hear it, that judge was so mesmerized when Tyler was on the stand, he didn’t even blink.”

  “I was prepared.” Tyler gazed out the window, sunlight casting a golden glow on his face. “Ben and the Free Agents targeted Penny because I turned them down. I knew exactly what I needed to say.”

  “You were the most important part of the prosecution’s case,” Brooklyn said. “Everyone’s saying your testimony was the strongest.”

  “I just wish Penny were here to see the way it all turned out.”

  I closed my eyes against the November air, feeling my hand tossing in the waves of wind that rushed past the car as we drove and drove and drove.

  “She would be proud of you,” Mia said. “And glad you had her back.”

  “It’s over now,” I said.

  “It’s not over.” The voice was soft, but strong. Sure. “He deserves to know.”

  I looked to my left, taking him in, the way his hair fell into his eyes, how tightly his fingers gripped the steering wheel. He reached out, his right arm twisting until his palm faced up, dropping an open hand on my knee. My eyes followed the gentle slope of his wrist, the tight curve of his muscles, and the small circular tattoo centered on his inner biceps.

  One single Penny.

  Heads.

  Up.

  I placed my hand in his, lacing our fingers together.

  “We all deserve to know. You, because you’re one of the—”

  “Don’t even think of calling me a victim.” I spun my silver and turquoise ring around the middle finger of my right hand.

  “I would never,” Josh said. “We’ve already established why Tyler and Sam deserve to hear the verdict, but we’ve forgotten Brooklyn and Mia. They’re the ones who stole Ben’s phone. They found his pictures. Without that, none of this would have happened.”

  “You’re mixing things up again,” I said. “I stole his phone. When he locked me in the bathroom at the party. I was the one who found the pictures.”