Getting It Twisted (Unforgivable Needs #1)

12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Daniel

My head feels suspiciously empty when I exit the car. Nathan must have sucked some of my brain matter out with that blow job. No wonder he’s so proud of his dick-sucking skills; he’s a fucking master and he knows it.

The decrepit, unfinished mansion of Mumphrey Hill looms up ahead. Legends say it was commissioned by some hotshot investor whose business went under before the construction finished, and the place got stuck in legal limbo. With time, it became the refuge and playground for the town’s delinquents.

Delinquents like me and Nathan.

The proximity to our high school meant we could bike up here during lunch recess. We sprayed the white marble walls with graffiti. We smoked weed, listened to music, and enjoyed the view of Springvale’s prime vantage point. We even lived here a whole summer when we were fourteen.

Every time I think of it, I can’t help but smile. Nothing has come close to that summer so far, and maybe nothing ever will.

We spend the rest of the evening exploring the rooms. We zigzag across the pillars and the curved ceiling of what should have been a luxurious bedroom, pass the half-finished bathroom and the ruined shell of the downstairs kitchen.

Now it’s all crumbled, and every inch of the walls is covered in graffiti.

Somewhere in here lives an echo of our former selves. I hoped we could find some sign of us—some remnant of our ghosts and the people we were—but there’s nothing. Only cigarette butts, dirty tissues, and old, damp sleeping bags.

We end up in the backyard, on the concrete block we used to fashion as a bench. Nathan lights a joint and hands it to me. This time, I take it. Cupping my hands as I light it up feels so habitual, so right, that I wonder why I even quit in the first place.

Together we watch the sun descend below the mountains at the opposite end of town. The once first-rate view of the city is now half-concealed by vegetation, but the ancient cedar woods around Springvale’s campus are the same, as is the smoke from the paper mill, the sprawling suburban houses, and the quaint city center.

My home. Our home.

“Look familiar?” My exhale drifts through the wind, merging with the brilliant orange sunset.

Nathan takes the joint from my hand with a brow raised in question.

“I had a sketch of this place,” I clarify. “You stole it.”

He flashes his teeth in a grin. “I did?”

“Don’t deny it.”

“It was a good one,” he says, as if it’s explanation enough. “We had a good time out here.”

“Yeah. That summer . . . it means a lot to me.”

“Me too.” He slides his hand over mine and leans his head on my shoulder. The moment feels frozen in time, like two pictures snapping into place, our past and our present selves merging into one.

“Holy shit I missed you so much,” I croak, and the tightness rushing up my chest isn’t just from the weed. I feel like crying and laughing all at once.

“I know, Daniel. I missed you too.”

Why do I still not fully believe him? Even though five years have gone and passed, one particular wound is still too raw when pressed on. And yet I can’t help but dig into it, rip the half-healed tissue apart and claw it open.

He said he cared about me when we were growing up. But if that’s true, how could he have hurt me like that? Will he ever become the person he was to me back then? Do I even want him to be? By even entertaining the idea, I open myself up for destruction. For heartbreak.

What are you doing? A cruel tilt of perfect lips as I leaned in to kiss him. What did you think—that we’re some lovey-dovey couple now? Fucking is just fucking.

My heart pounds, hard and deep. Crap. This is why I don’t smoke anymore. George made me quit my daily use after I dropped out of college, and every time I’ve tried it since then has devolved into a panic attack.

There’s a rumble behind the mansion. Engines? Motorbikes? My hypervigilant senses have me jumping off the bench and looking through the broken windows to the driveway.

At least five or six bikes and as many men are parked by the entrance.

“Nate,” I hiss. “What the fuck are they doing here?”

Nathan hasn’t even left the bench, still puffing on the joint. “Some stuff going on with a handover, most likely.”

“A handover?”

The men dismount their bikes, and the scrawny, insect-like form of Joshua enters my view. He gives one of the bikers a packet of some kind, and he receives one in return. Drugs? Money?

The bikers leave soon after, but Joshua stays put. Why isn’t he leaving?

“I know you’re here,” he calls. “You think I don’t recognize that ugly car of yours, Antler?”

“Shit.” My voice sounds too loud to my ears. I feel hot all over, almost sick. “Nate, get the fuck up.”

Joshua walks across the ruined kitchen with no care in the world, and I stand to face him.

“What do you want?” I ask.

He nods toward Nathan, who’s still sitting with his back turned, seemingly unbothered.

“You owe me quite a bit of cash, Antler. Or did you forget?”

“I haven’t forgotten shit,” Nathan says.

“’Cause if it’s gonna be a problem, I’ve got some ways to sort it out. I hope it won’t come to that though. Would hate to ruin that pretty face.”

Nathan just snorts.

“Or how about you, Hastings?” Joshua asks, eyes on me. “You’d take a bullet for him, wouldn’t you?”

I would. I would have when we were teenagers, and I would now.

Nathan rises slowly. He exhales a billowing cloud of smoke and puts out the joint with his boot. Without a word, he glowers at Joshua as if trying to burn a hole in him with sheer will of mind.

“We’ll bring you the money,” I say. “Just tell us when and where.”

Joshua shrugs his thin shoulders. “I’m having a party at my place next Friday. Bring it then.”

“Four grand, was it?”

“Four and a half. For interest.”

“Fine,” I say, though I don’t know if it is. My own bank account echoes emptily, and about Nathan’s finances I frankly have no clue. He told me he’s got the money, but he might as well be as poor as me. Or he’s got a hundred grand hidden somewhere in the Arizona desert for all I know. “We’ll be there.”

“You better,” Joshua says and saunters off.

I spin to Nathan. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” he mutters. He kicks an empty beer can out of the way, walks to the next in line, and does it again.

“We’re not kids anymore, Nate, and these people aren’t joking around. I won’t let you ruin your life and your future.”

In the middle of a kick, he stops and looks up at me. “Future? What future? What about you—you gonna work as a janitor forever? I thought you were going to be an artist.”

“Yeah well, sometimes shit doesn’t work out. But what’s the alternative, huh? Deal dope with Joshua and end up in prison, or worse?”

“At least in prison, I wouldn’t have you nagging me to death.”

“Fuck!” I turn my back on him, clenching my fists so hard my arms shake. So this is how it’s gonna be? I might have tolerated his erratic bullshit back when we were younger, but not anymore. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of him .

“Daniel.” His voice is soft now, concerned, as if he’s realized he went too far. “Daniel,” he repeats and puts a hand on my trembling shoulder. “Daniel, I’m sorry.”

The buzzing in my ears drowns out everything except the rare set of words only I have the privilege to hear. The vulnerability offered to no one but me. Because I’ve never heard Nathan apologize to anyone else; it just doesn’t happen. And the tone of his voice? That careful, soft, worried one? A fucking unicorn in the context of all the other shit he says.

“We’ll go together, all right?” he says. “I’ll get it done.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. But could you . . .” His voice breaks, and he seems to force out the next sentence. “Could you come stay with me for a while? I can’t sleep when you’re not around, and I don’t . . . I don’t want to be alone out there.”

His voice is shaking, and he sounds so pitiful I have to turn to look at him. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, and his head hangs on his chest. He looks younger than I’ve ever seen him. Dejected. Worried. Regretful.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if he’s faking all this. Is it all just a trick to get my guard down? It wouldn’t be the first time he tried something similar.

But no . . . Manipulative tendencies aside, Nathan isn’t this good of an actor, and he wouldn’t ask such a thing of me if he didn’t mean it.

My moment of consideration is mostly for show. He has to sweat a bit and realize he can’t get away with things so easily. I can’t leave him hanging for very long though; can’t stand to have him look at me with those dejected puppy eyes.

“Okay, let’s make a deal: You pay Joshua what you owe, and I’ll come stay with you.”

He won’t move into my house anytime soon, so staying at Wayward Road might be the best option for now. At least there I can keep an eye on him. I want to know when he’s hurting, and I want to make him not hurt anymore. I want to cook him dinner every night. I want to wake up every morning to his sleepy, soft smile.

His jaw clenches in consideration for a moment before he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. So you’ll come home with me?” he asks, hope written all over his features.

“Yeah. I’ll come home with you.”

That night, I lie awake and listen to his breathing. I pray he has a dreamless sleep, without any nightmares or vicious thoughts.

Instead, I’m the one who dreams.

I’m standing in the middle of a dark void. Nathan is there, in the distance with his back turned. I run to him, but as soon as my body crashes into his, he evaporates from my embrace like thin smoke. I turn around and see his body take shape anew. I embrace him again, and again he disappears.

It continues in loops, over and over, until one time, I cannot find him again. I roam the dark void for hours, for days. But he’s gone. He’s left me again.

I’m alone.

I wake up with a jolt. My heart is racing, and cold sweat seeps through my skin. I shift to Nathan’s side and clutch him close. He makes a soft sound in his sleep and presses against me.

My heartbeat slows, but the feeling of helplessness in my chest won’t abide. I lie awake for a long time, listening to the creaks of the wind rushing through the house.

I refuse to let anything happen to him. He’s mine now, and I won’t let him go. But what if I can’t stop him slipping away from me? What if one day, he’s just gone without a word?

I can’t go through that again. I just can’t.

I grip him closer, inhaling the smell of his hair. He sighs in his sleep and nuzzles into my neck.

I hold no illusions I can pin him down like I pinned him with my body last night. Any day now, something can go wrong, and I’ll be hopeless to stop him from turning his back on me again.