Page 48 of Haunted Hearts
Zeke turns to smirk at his brother, then shoulder checks him as he slinks away, leaving the screen door to bang shut. He calls over his shoulder, “Good luck, bro.”
Will catches the screen door with a huge hand to the glass. When he sees me standing there, I think I catch a glimpse of something soft in his eyes, but then it’s gone, flickering out like a sputtering candle and replaced with something much more steely. He sets his jaw.
“Lydia, it’s ten o’clock?—”
“They’re breaking ground on Monday and youknew,” I snarl. “And apparently, you worked tirelessly on it all fuckingweekend.”
Will’s jaw flexes, but he says nothing. He just watches me, waiting for me to get whatever I need to say out. He knows I’m not done.
“This whole time—the last three weeks—you—I…” I can’t even get the words out right. What started as an unfurling ofrage has fizzled into a dramatic mess, and I can hear my voice breaking as I grope for the words I need. “Youplayedme. You fuckingplayedme.”
“I didn’t play you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’d like to hear what you call it then, because tricking a woman into thinking she might actually mean something to you, only to turn around and help pullthison her is quite the stunt.”
Will rubs his jaw, like I’ve punched him in the face or something. “You knew from the beginning what I was hired to do, Lydia. And you knew—still know—how much rides on this for me. I never kept any of that from you.”
I scoff. “But you made me believe you hold sway with Ethan. You made it seem like you could change the plans.”
At this, Will doesn’t say anything. But I’m still fuming. I’m not letting him off that easily. I want him to feel what he’s done to me, how he’s messed everything up. I want him to feel what I feel.
“Really, Will,” I say, my voice dripping with disdain. “Your mom’s dead, too. You, of all people, should know what it’s like to want to keep some part of your mother alive. But you couldn’t even give methat?—”
“Lydia.” Will’s voice is different now. I can’t tell if it’s pleading or pitying, but there’s something raw beneath the gruffness. “Stop. Your mom’s not coming back. It doesn’t matter whether you keep every single brick of that stupid library in place or a bomb drops and turns it to charred fucking earth. Your mom is gone.Gone.”
I step back like he’s slapped me. I just stare at him, all the angry words I had lined up like munitions suddenly wiped clear out of my mind.
He softens his tone. “I’m sorry. That was… harsher than I meant it to be. But Lydia, the point still stands. Your mom’s not?—”
“Stop. Talking.”
I barely even know I’m speaking until the words are out and Will, obviously knowing what’s best for him, has already shut his damn mouth. The white-hot anger I felt just seconds ago has been replaced by a flood of aching, dizzying hurt. Not only has Will just said aloud the very thing I’ve been trying desperately not to believe for so many years, but he’s said it in the meanest way possible, at the worst possible moment. Suddenly, it is crystal clear that Will Holloway is not who I thought he was.
And then, reaching back to that intimate moment when Will had me in his arms, I take the lowest blow I can think of.
“You’re just like your dad, Will,” I spit. “I should’ve known better than to trust that you meant a single word you said. You strung me along, made me think I might actually mean something to you—but in reality you had other plans. That’s right, isn’t it? You’re as selfish as he was, and you fucking know it.”
He stares at me. Something slackens in his mouth. I can’t read what’s behind his expression, but I don’t bother. I’m spent, and I can feel tears pricking my eyes and a lump rising in my throat. I turn on my heel and storm down the sidewalk, knowing that if I spare so much as a glance back at Will, who’s still standing in the doorway, I’ll absolutely lose it.
When I get into my car and start the engine, I risk a look back at the house. But Will’s no longer there. The front door is shut, solid and unmoving. He’s gone back in the house. He doesn’t care.
The hurt’s too deep. It’s over. The landmark project is over. My connection with Mom is over. And, the thing I’m scared to admit might hurt most of all, Will and I are over. I only make ithalf a block before the tears come and I break down into a mess of shuddering sobs.
twenty-six
WILL
Ican’t even bring myself to watch Lydia as she stalks down the sidewalk and gets in her car. I let the screen door bang shut and slam the front door so hard the living room shakes.
“Jesus Christ, Will.” Zeke appears in the doorway, a beer in one hand and a bottle opener in the other. “Shut that thing a little harder, would ya?”
I don’t answer, just storm past him down the hallway and to the kitchen. I snatch a beer out of the fridge and bang it on the counter to get the top off. I don’t even care that I left behind a chip in the granite. Swigging down half the beer in one gulp, I slam it down on the counter and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Zeke’s leaning against the counter, staring at me. He hasn’t even opened his beer yet. “Will… bro…”
I slog down the other half of the beer and reach for another. Zeke doesn’t stop me, but he’s giving me the same look I usually give him, and I hate it.
He looks alarmed. “Man, I don’t know what happened out there, but… take it easy. You don’t drink.”
