Ever Near (Secret Affinity Book 1)

by Melissa MacVicar

  “It’s okay,” I finally come up with, running my fingers through his hat hair.

  “At the end, I wanted her to go. The pain… it was terrible.” He pulls his head back and sniffs.

  “I’m sure,” I murmur, even though I really have no idea what it’s like when someone’s dying.

  “The last thing she told me… besides that she loved me… was to take care of Dad and Brendan. She squeezed my hand, even though she had no strength left at all.” His arms are still draped around me loosely, but his eyes are on the gravestone.

  “Would she be mad, do you think? About my mom?”

  He shakes his head. “She liked your mom. And she’d want Dad to be happy. That’s how she was. Totally unselfish.”

  He sighs and drops his arms. I step back and he stands, taking his hat from me.

  He makes one more pass at his face with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. Sorry I didn’t ask you first.”

  “It’s okay.” I nod, reaching to take his hand. “No more surprises, though.”

  “I promise.” He bows his head, his eyes on the ground. Sorry and sad—both at the same time. Not a good look for Charlie Dowler.

  “Ready?” I ask, just as the last sliver of the pink ball drops below the horizon.

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 21

  “We can do this tomorrow if you’re too tired,” Charlie says.

  We’re parked on a side street, beside the Lobster Trap restaurant.

  “No. I’d rather just get it over with. What are we going to say to the people at the bar?”

  He thinks for a minute. “We left a jacket there? At the last dance?”

  “How long ago would that have been?”

  “It doesn’t matter really. They’re drunk, remember?”

  “Okay.” I half-laugh, half-sigh. I’m exhausted but trying to power through this tour de spirits we’re on. I could teach Martin a thing or two about giving ghost tours.

  We get out and walk around the Lobster Trap. Tourists sip cocktails on the patio, while a hostess takes names for the waitlist. We pass the main door to the Legion and head down the alley to the back door, which leads straight into the bar. It’s ajar, and I can already smell the stench of smoke before Charlie pulls it open the rest of the way.

  The three men, all wearing navy blue baseball caps with military emblems on them, sit around laminate tables, their withered faces like overcooked baked potatoes. When they raise their tired eyes to look at us, I panic a bit.

  “Hi. We need to check the lost and found. From the dance.” I sound shrill and breathy, as if I’ve just been jogging and now I’m trying to sing.

  They just look back down at their beers. Charlie and I glance at each other, and then he steps inside. I follow him as he heads for the main hall, keeping my head down. The bartender, a younger man, nods at us as we go by. Charlie presses the filthy push bar on the next door, and we step into the enormous main hall. The door falls shut behind us with a thud, and the sound echoes across the empty expanse of the room. I get a little jittery because the only light is the faint glow from the dingy Exit signs. Nothing is set up in here. The next function will probably be the mustering of the VFW for the Fourth of July parade.

  I grope for Charlie’s arm in the darkness. “Crack the door,” I whisper, trying to tamp down my fear.

  “Let’s find the lights.”

  Our hands connect, and we start to inch along the wall toward the front door, where the light switch should be.

  “Where’d you see him?” Charlie asks

  “By the bar. And in the bathroom.”

  About halfway to the front door, the cold hits me. I freeze in my tracks and wobble because Charlie tries to keep going with my hand sealed in his.

  Soulja-Boy’s face appears two inches from mine—bushy eyebrows, brown teeth, and his own distinctive rotten stench. “I told you I don’t need you.”

  A strangled scream escapes me before I can stop it. I clamp my free hand over my mouth.

  He evaporates, and I whip my head around to find him. On my neck, I feel an icy fingertip.

  “What do you want?” Soulja-Boy’s disembodied voice asks.

  I breathe in a ragged gasp. “The others. I need to know what they did.”

  A deep, cackling laugh roars through the hall.

  “Jade?” Charlie says. “What should I do?”

  I shake my head at him, wanting him to be quiet. I don’t want Soulja-Boy to notice him and do something to him.

  “They did nothing!” Soulja-Boy screams in my ear. “They were useless!”

  I pinch my eyes shut and will myself to stay calm. “How many were there?”

  He laughs again, a sound that reverberates all around me from every direction. “Two. If you must know, there were two, from that time when women began wearing short skirts.” His voice fades in and out, as if he’s really far away and then suddenly close by. “They brought shiny rocks and smelly candles and summoned up the voices, telling me to go. But I didn’t. The men and women I killed were there. I couldn’t face that. So I stayed to avoid the consequences.”

  “What are the consequences?” I whisper.

  “I don’t want to know!” His voice is so loud I worry my ear drums will pop.

  “Okay. We’re going,” I say.

  Booming, eerie laughter fills the room again. Why can’t Charlie and the men hear it? I wish I knew why. I wish I had the answers. We stumble through the door, back into the bar. Letting go of Charlie, I navigate through the beat-up tables to the exit. Outside, I don’t stop. I stalk back to the side street where the Pilot waits, Charlie close on my heels. When I get there, I glance behind me to be sure Soulja-Boy didn’t follow, too. Thankfully, Charlie and I are alone.

  “What happened?” he asks, his blue eyes wide.

  “They were hippies. They brought crystals and incense, and there were voices but he didn’t want to go. Because he killed people and he was afraid.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know. I have no idea how to conjure up voices or spirits to take Lydia away.”

  “Yeah. We’re gonna have to try, though,” Charlie says.

  Unfortunately, I know he’s right.

  Chapter 22

  Fourth of July in Nantucket is like the Super Bowl, Christmas, and a birthday all wrapped up in one. I get the early shift that day, which is great because that means I can go to the beach with Ally in the afternoon. Nobadeer Beach has a party atmosphere on any given Sunday all summer long, but Fourth of July is especially insane.

  Ally and I lie side by side on our towels, beside Andrew Townsend’s truck. Andrew is the only one of Devonte’s friends with a four-wheel drive, so together, they shuttled us over the dune and parked near the jocks.

  “Is Charlie over there?” Ally asks.

  “Yeah. But we can’t hang out together. Not here.” I tug at the strings of my bikini, ensuring they’re tight. I might go swimming, and I don’t want to risk a wardrobe malfunction in the surf. When I look up, I catch Billy Reese staring at me from the next group over—the dirtbag group. I throw him a smirk.

  “Why not? Is he embarrassed by you?”

  “No,” I huff. “We just started going out, though. We aren’t going to go fawning all over each other our first time at Nobadeer in front of everyone. Plus, I’m hanging out with you.”

  “Well, I’ll go over there with you. I can talk to Natalie about chorus.”

  Natalie’s our crossover friend, a jock who also sings.

  “Fine. Maybe in a little bit.”

  Ally looks over my shoulder, and her eyes widen. I turn to see what has surprised her. A few yards away, Charlie is talking to Jenna. She’s working it too—hand on her hip, flaunting her bright
yellow bikini at him.

  “After Jenna’s done with him,” Ally mutters.

  “Shut up.” I flop down, adjusting my sunglasses. Was he flirting back? I fight the urge to sit back up and stare at them.

  “Come on. We should go over. I’ll pretend I need to talk to Natalie.”

  “No.” I refuse to be that girl, the one who chases her boyfriend all over Nobadeer and flips out when he even glances at another bikini.

  “Jade—”

  “No!” I fight to keep my resolve, which isn’t easy considering how new and potentially unstable my thing with Charlie is.

  Ally sighs. “You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

  “Yup.”

  The sun warms my skin, my feet sinking into the hot sand. I’ve missed this, the lazy, pampered feeling of lying in the sun at the beach, enjoying being alive and forgetting about everything else. The envy and petty need to possess Charlie slowly trickle away as I take in the baking rays of the sun.

  “Jade?”

  “Not now, Al.”

  “No. Jade, he’s—”

  “I said not now.”

  “Not now what?” Charlie asks.

  When I open my eyes, I see him standing over me.

  “Hi,” he says, his sexy, crooked smile plastered on his face.

  “Hi,” I croak, sitting up quickly.

  He drops to sit beside me, his legs bent, arms draped over them. “Did your mom tell you we have to be home by five? To go to the Eastbrook?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We can give you a ride. If Andrew’s staying.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ally’s smiling at him as if he’s a rockstar who just dropped from the sky to grace us with his presence.

  “Are you gonna swim?” he asks, gesturing at the ocean.

  “Maybe. Are you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What are you guys doing at the Eastbrook?” Ally asks. She scrunches up her nose as though just saying “Eastbrook” is distasteful.

  “It’s a cookout. And we watch the fireworks.”

  Someone’s shadow falls over us. “Al, give me a twenty,” Billy says.

  “No. Go away.”

  “I’ll pay you back.” Billy flits his eyes between my boobs and his sister. This is usual for Billy, but what’s different this time is Charlie. This time, Charlie’s here to see it.

  “I’m not giving you pot money. Go away.” Ally shoos Billy away with a hand gesture.

  But he doesn’t leave. Instead, he starts looking between me and Charlie. I can almost see the wheels turning in his foggy brain. He knows Charlie’s annoyed, and he wants to further torment all of us. “Jade, you got a twenty?”

  “No.”

  He glances at Charlie and then back to my chest. “Please, baby? After everything we’ve shared?”

  Charlie squeezes his hands into fists, and a vein in his neck pops out.

  “Shut up, Billy,” Ally says.

  “Leave her alone,” Charlie growls at the same time.

  “Aww, you being all big brother now, Chuckie?”

  Charlie clenches his jaw and leans forward to get on his knees. “Last warning, Reese.”

  “Too bad she’s your baby sister now. That means you can’t—”

  Charlie launches off the ground like a lion going for its prey. In an instant, he’s on top of Billy, sand flying all around them. Billy hollers something unintelligible as Charlie begins unloading punches on his face and body. Ally and I scramble to our feet to avoid the spraying sand. Billy kicks and screams, trying to squirm away.

  “Charlie, stop!” I shout.

  Charlie doesn’t seem to hear me, though. He continues pummeling Billy with a barrage of punches. A crowd gathers, cheering and yelling “Fight!” Panic spreads in my chest because Charlie could really hurt Billy. Luckily, before he can do too much damage, the only person who can help arrives on the scene.

  “Dude! Enough!” Brendan grabs Charlie by the arms and drags him off of Billy.

  Two of Billy’s friends help him to his feet.

  “Fuck you, Dowler!” Billy screams, wiping blood off his lip.

  Charlie points his finger menacingly. “Don’t say another word to her, you hear me? Ever!”

  “You’re fucking nuts!” Billy yells.

  Brendan starts to drag Charlie toward the row of parked cars, and I think maybe Billy’s right about this. Charlie is completely crazy. But at the same time, he’s completely awesome for sticking up for me.

  “Al, I’m so sorry,” I say because I do feel bad about Billy. He had no way of knowing what he was getting himself into, even though he’s deserved a good beating for a while.

  “It’s okay. Go with Charlie.” She pushes me lightly.

  I only hesitate for a few seconds before deciding she’s right. I grab my bag and towel and jog to keep up with Charlie and Brendan. We have to pass through a crowd of bodies, people watching, sizing up Charlie—and me too, I suppose. I am not enjoying the prying eyes of my peers. Right now, I want to disappear.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Charlie when we get to the jeep.

  He’s still sort of panting from his exertion and the adrenaline rush. I reach to touch his face where it looks like he has a small cut, but he jerks away, almost reflexively.

  “What the hell happened?” Brendan asks.

  I wait for Charlie to answer, but he doesn’t. That Y-chromosome thing again, I guess. Instead, he cranes his neck to look at himself in the rearview mirror on the side of the jeep.

  I figure someone owes Brendan an explanation for saving the day. He may be an asshole most of the time, but at least he looks out for his little brother. “Billy said something rude. About me.”

  Brendan wrinkles up his face like this is a ridiculous reason to beat someone up. Guys have their rules about fighting, and this reason doesn’t make sense to Brendan because he doesn’t know about our relationship. “What did he say?”

  “Leave it alone,” Charlie says.

  Brendan frowns at him. “Dude, you need to chill. You lost it.”

  “You wanna leave?” Charlie asks me.

  “Sure.”

  Brendan looks more confused. “It’s only three o’clock.”

  “I know. But I gotta get out of here. Can you get a ride with Ryan?”

  Brendan looks from Charlie to me, as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. Whatever he decides, it works out for us because he shrugs and says, “Keys are in the console.”

  Chapter 23

  Talking is overrated. Charlie’s quiet for now, and I think this is for the best. Teachers and parents are always saying they want us to talk about our problems, but sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut. And this definitely seems like one of those times because Charlie still looks pretty tweaked out. His frown and the way his hands clutch the wheel make it clear he’s not ready for dialogue.

  We head over the dune and onto the dirt road leading back to Surfside. Cops are stationed at the intersections on the way to and from the beach, inspecting suspicious cars for booze and drugs. A shirtless surfer dude is being cuffed beside his Volkswagen bus. We’re leaving, so they don’t bother us, but they did check Andrew’s cooler on the way in. This is par for the course for the Fourth of July. Things got out of control a few years ago with underage drinkers, so they’re pretty strict about it.

  I’m twisting my head around, watching the poor shaggy surfer guy, when Charlie finally speaks. “Did you guys go out?” He sort of mutters this, as though he doesn’t want to say it too loud because he knows he really shouldn’t be saying it at all.

  I look over at the side of his face, now deflated from the stony look to a softer one. I scoff and fold my arms over my chest. “He wis
hes. He’s always like that with me, though. Ever since middle school.”

  “But you never…?”

  “Charlie, no. But I have gone out with other guys. I’m sure you know that.” Is this going to be a thing for him? Jealousy about past hookups? If it is, we might as well break up right now because I’ve dated my fair share.

  “I know.”

  “So you can’t go beating them all up. You’re gonna get in trouble.”

  He lets out a sigh. “Sometimes when I get angry, I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself.”

  “Have you ever gotten in trouble for it? Like at school?”

  “No.” He runs his hand through his messy hair. “He just made me so mad… what he said and how he was looking at you.”

  “Well, I don’t think he’ll be bothering us again. You took care of that.”

  We’re stopped in a line of traffic near the high school. The flag in front hangs limply against the pole, no breeze to flap it. I stare at the front door of the sprawling structure, wondering what our lives will be like when Charlie and I return there together in the fall. Will we be outed by then? Or maybe broken up?

  “Should we just go home?” Charlie asks.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  We sit in silence again, Charlie brooding, his fingers tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the pop song playing on the radio. A truck with a huge American flag streaming from the bed drives past us. Several shirtless men are jammed in the cab. Behind that is a Range Rover with a posse of Chads. This is how Nantucket is in the summer—the locals and tourists.

  “Is the Eastbrook gonna be weird?” I ask, picking at my fingernails and thinking I should redo the polish before we go.