Page 45 of The Darkest Parts of Me

“It’s fine.”

Tash clears her throat. “Look, Mave, Renn is a loner, but I’ve known him for a while, and I feel like I can confidently say that I highly doubt he meant to hurt you. I may not know everything about him, but I know he would never do something like that on purpose.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Why do I get the feeling something more happened between you two than you’re telling me?” she asks, but I don’t answer for several moments.

“I thought maybe there was something, but I guess I was wrong.”

She grabs my hand from across the table. “For what it is worth, I’m sorry that he made you feel that way. He loses a lot of points in my book, because you’re my best friend.”

I know in my heart what she says is true, but it doesn’t make me feel any less foolish.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. He’s just a guy right?” My own words don’t convince me as I say them, so I change the subject instead. “But now that it is over, I am grateful that you persuaded me to go on the retreat. It was what I needed, truly. Regardless of whatever happened with Renn, I had an amazing time with you.” And I mean it.

She peers at me, her warm, honey, hazel eyes twinkling. “Let’s not talk about Renn anymore, okay?” she says.

“Deal,” I say with a nod. “So, tell me more about your plans for the road trip,” I quickly add.

We spend the rest of the afternoon in easy conversion and do not once mention Renn, just as we promised.

About a week after Tasha and Mina departed on their trip, I ran out of reasons to go into town besides food, and now I’m hunkered down in the cabin with no intention of leaving. It’s the first time that I’ve been truly alone since moving back to Solitude Ridge, and it’s in the loneliness that the shadows from the dark corners of my mind—where they’ve been lingering and waiting for the opportunity to overtake me—come alive. What was once cozy and quiet has become isolating and cold. I look out the window, the change of scenery reminding me that the beautiful parts of my life are like the now fallen leaves, short moments of brilliance, only to fall to the ground, crumpled and dead. I never meant for this downward spiral to get the way it has. It would be too easy to pick up the phone and call someone, or simply go into town just to be around some other living beings. But before I realize the path I’m treading down, it’s too late to turn around, and I can’t find my way back.

I used to be afraid of things that made sense to be afraid of, like the dark or heights, but the truest form of fear is when you become afraid of yourself. Some people fear that they may never accomplish their lifelong goals, never find out who they truly are, or fear that their life has no purpose. But not me. It’s not about whether or not I know who I am or what my life means—it’s the opposite. I know exactly who I am, what I’ve done, and what I deserve. The retreat only distracted me from the truth.

So now, instead of pushing it out of my mind, I welcome it in, all the grief, all the guilt and pain.

You don’t deserve to be happy, something whispers to me. I’ve done a decent job of ignoring it for this long, but what that voice whispers rings true. So, I let it in and allow it to stay a while—that demon living inside, making itself at home.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Renn

Four days. That’s how long it’s been since I last saw her. It’s ridiculous that I’ve started keeping track, but it’s odd not to have even caught a glimpse of her, even for a second or two as she walks by or drives through town. I even found myself going to the coffee shop one day to see if I’d spot her, but no. I knew Mina and Tasha were due to make their annual trip, and I naturally assumed that, with them gone, Maven was bound to be in town less frequently, so I didn’t read into it too much.

It’s the afternoon, and the sky is already darker than normal, yet there’s no sign of the big storm that’s predicted to hit town soon. I always have steady work at the auto shop, which I split with the other two guys who work here. But at this time of year, I always lend a helping hand wherever I can. Winter is not to be taken lightly around here; preparation is key, a habit I’ve been acquainted with for as long as I can remember. It’s what I’ve always done. This time around, I welcome the work more than usual, if only to offer me more diversion from my thoughts drifting to Maven.

Those days on the retreat were some of the best days of my life, but once the distraction of it all faded away, I had a feeling something was off. I had an aching feeling in my gut that I had to get home as soon as possible and reality hit me like a wall of bricks when I came back to find that the transmitter’s signal had picked up on something—or someone—while I was away. The hope I had felt just days before had been ripped away from me again. It had been for less than a second, but I saw the record of it on the screen. My transmission had been tapped into, and I had no idea if that means everything or nothing. Anomalies are possible, especially with a simple transmitter such as mine, but unlikely. My basic console is nothing like what the average space ship is equipped with, but it should still work for what I need it to do. I looked over the device multiple times, checking to see if I could determine if there was clear proof that it was something to worry about or maybe something hopeful. I searched the telemetry data and scanned the material thoroughly for hours, looking for any technical malfunctions, but I couldn’t find anything that ultimately gave me an answer.

This is why you can’t get too close. You need to stay away.

It’s an emotional torture that has left me with gnawing regret. It isn’t fair to her, but I don’t know what else to do. The most important thing is to keep her safe and not drag her into whatever might happen. I wish it could be different, more than anything, but I can’t let personal desires get in the way, no matter how much I want the outcome to be different.

My phone rings, and I look down to see Tasha’s name flash across the screen. I know instantly that she’s calling about Maven.

“Tasha. What’s up?”

“Renn! Oh my goodness. I’m so glad you answered.”

“What’s going on, Tash?”

“I have a question.”

“Okay.”

Tasha clears her throat on the other end. “Have you, by chance, spoken to Maven recently?”

My chest goes heavy. “I haven’t. I . . . actually haven’t seen her around town for a few days.” There’s a long pause. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?” The questions spill out of me, hurried and panicked.

“It’s probably nothing, but I haven’t been able to reach her for a couple of days.”

“What about Tova?”

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