Nope, not broken, but it throbs. I count over two spots from the oak tree and I hobble past the first tree then pause. Wow. That’s a lot of names for a trunk of a tree. One rotation of a dizzying circle and my world becomes distorted. Oh my God, it’s not just one tree. It’s several and stacked one upon another is name after name.
“Two spots over,” I whisper. This tree isn’t as towering as the others. Its bark is white and peels off in sections. The leaves aren’t as big. My eyes shoot to the top of the list then frantically search down. Some are first names. Some are initials. Most of the names don’t make sense. The world grinds to a halt as a cold clamminess overtakes my body. MZN...Megan Zoe Nader.
It’s not possible. It’s not. I stumble back from the tree and into Oz.
His glare pins me to my spot. “I told you to stay put.”
He did, I didn’t and now I’ve plummeted down the rabbit hole Oz warned me about.
“If I asked you a question would you tell me the truth?” I ask. “Because we’re friends now and that’s what friends do.”
Oz hardens. “It’s my job to watch over you.”
“Yeah, I kinda assumed that, but we’re friends now, right?” He didn’t outright say it last night, but he suggested it and I have a hard time believing there isn’t some sort of connection between us—even if it’s just friendship.
He reaches down to his hip and extracts his knife from the sheath. “The tree we’re using is over there. Let’s get going before the storm blows in.”
He walks away and I have my answer.
Oz
WIND SHAKES OLIVIA’S CABIN. It’s been standing for over a hundred years and I can’t imagine any storm blowing this house down. We’ve heard a few rumbles of thunder. Heat lightning flashes in the dark overcast sky, but the front that we were promised never arrived.
The air is thick with humidity, with expectation. Each night we go without a storm only builds the electricity. The air is practically crackling with the shit.
I sit on the steps of the porch and nurse a beer. Emily’s muffled voice drifts out of her window. It’s ten at night, which means she’s either on the phone with her parents or her friends. Chevy said that Stone told him that she and Violet talk on the phone. According to him, they discuss girl crap: clothes, hair, colleges in Florida. Violet better be keeping her mouth shut about the club to Emily.
Lights glow from the open bay doors of the clubhouse across the yard. A group of five guys hang around in a circle talking and smoking cigarettes.
The summer crickets are quiet. So are the frogs. Even the voices from the garage don’t carry right. The clubhouse should be exploding with people and noise and the silence gives the place an eerie mood.
My instincts scream that something’s wrong. That we’re teetering on the brink of a moment so huge that if we topple it’ll lead to a downward spiral straight to hell.
My phone buzzes. Ten fifteen on the dot. Eli hasn’t missed a check-in yet.
Eli: Give me an update
I take a long draw from the beer then set the empty bottle on the porch.
Me: Emily’s in her room talking on the phone
Eli: We’ll be back tonight.
They’ve been gone for over two weeks. Longer than expected. It’s eaten Eli up to be gone this long from Emily. From what I understand, Cyrus is also close to losing his mind with the distance from Olivia, but business is booming with the security firm and we need the money to pay for Olivia’s treatments.
I pop the cap off another beer. This will be my last one for the evening. After two, I get my buzz on and I can’t buzz since I have a girl to protect.
Eli: Anything happen I need to know about?
I should tell Eli that Olivia gave Emily the picture, that Emily’s asking about Honeysuckle Ridge and that today she saw visual proof on a tree that her mother has been around the family more than Eli claims.
Emily saw her mother’s initials. She begged me for the truth and I walked away. An unseen wall divided us after so many layers had appeared to be peeled back. For a few minutes, I had connected with Emily and with three letters carved into a tree, that connection was shattered.
Fuck it. It was destroyed because I’m doing what needs to be done: keeping Emily in the dark. I take another deep swallow of beer. Why it bothers me that Emily withdrew, I don’t know. Attraction. That’s what’s between us. Just attraction.
Me: Emily scraped and bruised her leg today, but she’s fine
She’s fine. Fine enough to barely look at me when she went in to take a shower. Fine enough to eat dinner with Olivia and make conversation with her and not acknowledge me. She’s fucking fine without me.
Eli: We’ve run into trouble with the Riot over the past two weeks. Bad tonight. Keep vigilant. We’ve heard reports of the Riot 30 miles out. Too far south for them. I don’t like it.
This latest trouble with the Riot is news to me and the entire text causes me to pause.
A roar of motorcycles and the gun on my back radiates heat. The guys near the clubhouse spread out and it hits me that they aren’t visiting for shits and giggles. They’re here because we’re on the verge of nuclear warfare.