The Truths We Make (House of Poe #1)

19. Desolate Intentions

Desolate Intentions

Friday, Present

“ Y ou know I love a good adventure, Eve, but are you going to tell me why we’re following Oliver around town this late at night?” Tyler asks.

His voice is easy, inviting. Exactly as it always has been. I can feel the years between us melting away. The awkward last semester before graduation. The breakup when he realized I could never love him the way I loved them. And he deserved to be loved that way. He hadn’t been mad. He had just hugged me and told me how lucky they were. Only I know that luck isn’t always a good thing.

“What do you remember about homecoming?” I ask instead of answering him. He doesn’t force his question, instead he moves along with my own, giving it genuine thought.

“I remember showing up, being excited to get to take you out, seeing how absolutely breathtaking you looked, ready to make us official.” He smiles at me. “We got to the venue, danced a bit, then left early to go to the party. I remember you being upset, unwilling to talk to me about it, begging to go home, and us dropping you off. It gets a bit vague from there.”

Of course, it does. I remember all that, too. I also remember the party, where Oliver’s entire demeanor changed as he demanded me to leave. I had cried to Tyler, begging him to call the car for me, needing to sit in my sorrow alone rather than spend my night holding back tears at Oliver’s judgmental stares.

“Yeah. You’d had a few drinks by the time I left, but if you can remember anything after, you would really help me out,” I plead.

He switches between the road and my face, head bobbing back and forth, before he finally responds.

“How about you tell me what you’re looking for, exactly? As much as I love playing 20 questions with you, if you want my help, you’re going to have to let me in. You know how this works,” he says, the last part on a swallow.

We both understand the implication of his words. Remembering that the last time we really talked, he told me the same thing. Instead of opening up then, I slammed the door in his face. I could never share my heart with him when I’d already given it away. Yet, tonight, it wasn’t me he needed to see, and this wasn’t some selfish crush I was trying to use to forget everything else. I needed him for Paxton. For Oliver. I inhale deeply.

“ You know the place where the companion to noon laid claim. To what was and rhymed with grave. Where no key could unlock it. Without the story, our girl was mocked for. But you got in without her, anyway .”

Tyler slams to a stop at a yellow light and we watch the car we’ve been following three cars behind slide into a free right and disappear. My stomach sinks, praying for the light to turn green and with every second it doesn’t, hope slips further away.

“Tyler, we’re losing him!” I shriek, his tone on the edge of panic.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. His face tilts toward me, staring. The light flashes green and I my hands flail at it.

“Tyler! It’s green! Let’s go!”

After what feels like eternity, he does, but not at the breakneck speed my anxiety is demanding. Instead, he crawls through the streets, missing the right turn Oliver took. I’m about to lose my mind when he finally joins the conversation again.

“What the hell was that you quoted, Eve?” he asks.

I stare at him agape, “Really? That’s the important question right now? You wanted to know what I was looking for . ”

He shrugs. “Yeah, it’s important! Especially, the fact that I helped write it. Although some lines have been changed. ”

“Excuse me?” I say, surprised. My whole body vibrates with the coincidence.

“A couple months ago. Paxton said he wanted to add a touch of Poe to his high school reunion. He wanted to get us all together again, even though we were in different grades, and asked if I could help with creating a riddle for just our group about his senior homecoming. Apparently, he wanted to be surprised, too. I did, and now you have it.”

Paxton gave you a way back in. Without Oliver. He knew that there was a good chance Oliver might leave me behind. That he would try to keep this from me, so Paxton put in a failsafe—a way I could find the answers even if Oliver refused to give them to me. Do all the clues have one? I mentally slap myself back into the present. Trails of thoughts like that would keep me spinning for days. Months. Right now, the only one that matters is this one.

Paxton played this on a very sharp edge. He had to have thought about the possibility of how his mourning would play out, and the faith that Tyler would show when I needed him. Or that you would call him if you did. Paxton’s intelligence has always awed me, but now it is his conviction in it that has me floored. He had to have contingencies upon contingencies. He had to have believed so completely in knowing us and himself to make this happen.

And so far, he’s been right.

“He really did plan for everything, didn’t he?” I hear Tyler ask, breaking my thoughts.

I stare, his words circling my mind.

“What do you mean?” I ask, still puzzling it all out.

“The reunion. He must have passed it along to you and Oliver in case something happened to him, right? That’s why we’re following him?” he says, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

I need to steer the conversation back to finding where Oliver went, but I’m still reeling with other questions. Mostly about why, if Paxton plans for everything, he did not have a will in place. It hadn’t occurred to me before to ask. I was so wrapped up in him being gone, seeing Oliver again, and then finding out he was murdered to really think about it. But the reading of the will had not been called. Or I had been left out of it. Neither seemed plausible. He didn’t plan for everything. With every clue, murder was looking more and more likely .

“Yeah… You’re right. He did. Can you help me solve it? I wasn’t there, so I’m having trouble.”

I try to fold the unanswered questions away for later. I need to talk to Madeline. If she knew nothing else, I would bet my life that she’ll know about the state of his affairs. And that means she would know who sent the letters upon his death. Right now, though, I need to focus on having Tyler help me find where Oliver’s gone and why.

Tyler smiles over at me. “Of course, I’ll help.” He turns on his blinker and blows through a yellow to make the turn, giving me the urgency I’ve been wanting.

“Where are we headed?” I ask, elated to be on the chase.

“To the place that rhymes with grave… If we want in, we’ll have to get there by midnight.”

Neon red blurs and drips from the nightclub’s sign that hangs on the outside of its brick exterior. Chadwick Lead Works is etched permanently above it, a history that cannot be erased, even for the likes of the upper echelon revelers of Boston. In a building that should hold multiple offices or warehouse spaces, there is only one.

“Password,” the bulky man in front of me grunts.

It’s the only thing he’s said since Tyler drug me into this back alley to him.

“Like I said, my friend, we don’t have tonight’s password. But I can guarantee you want us in there. This lovely lady next to me happens to be Boston royalty…”

I’m not, but I’d let Tyler say anything if it got us inside. Did Oliver have any trouble? No. Why would he? He actually was royalty. Tyler steps away from the man, corralling me to the side to let the others in line have a shot. We watch them fail before he leans into me.

“Sorry, Eve. I thought we could get in. I’ll make a call, but by the time she can help, it’ll probably be too late. You’d think the Poe name would carry more weight,” he scoffs, apologetic.

I’m only half listening, but it’s enough to catch his comparison of me to them. It might , I think, if I were a Poe . But no one outside of the family, close friends, and absolute fanatics would know about me. I mentally flip through the lines of the riddle, searching for any clue for what will get us inside. Tyler starts the walk back to the truck, his fingers texting furiously. Where no key could unlock it. Without the story, our girl was mocked for. That’s it.

“Tyler. Wait!” I take a few quick steps and grab his arm, pulling him back to the door.

“Look, if you don’t have the password, I can’t let you in…” The guard is gruff and irritated, no longer entertained by us.

“Nevermore,” I interrupt him.

He goes silent. His eyes feel like they pierce into me, see the darkness I’m hiding. The pain. I’m sure he thinks it’s a trick, but he undoes the velvet red rope and steps aside.

“Welcome to Crave, Miss Poe,” he says, as Tyler and I rush by, not allowing him to change his mind and keep us locked out.

We barely get up the narrowed staircase before Tyler’s arm wraps around my shoulder.

“Wow! I am taking you to all the exclusive clubs I can never seem to get into. How did you know the password?” he asks, awed.

“It was in the riddle. Without the story, our girl was mocked for. When I was young, before we went to school together, I brought a few raven skulls for show and tell. The kids were ruthless. It’s why Paxton and Oliver transferred from their all-boys’ school. Why they stayed with me through junior high and high school. The story had to be Nevermore.”

The question I had now was why . The bullying was a bad memory, sure, but the night the boys fought to protect me? I had always thought it was the start of our bond. Maybe Paxton saw it as the beginning of our breaking. Or theirs. Tyler wraps his fingers around my shoulder and forces me to stop, eyes full of concern.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, and I’m sorry Pax changed the line and brought it back up. But you know them, there’s got to be a reason. So, what do we do now?”

He sees me drifting into the past and is pulling me back in like a lifeline. He’s always been practical and easy. Unburdened in a way the boys could never be—were never allowed to be. I grab the hand on my shoulder and give it a squeeze. Something to tell him I’m grateful he’s here. That I care about him, too.

“We find Oliver. I’m not sure what he did here or what he lost, so I have nowhere to look. Unless you know of something?” It’s a long shot, but I ask anyway .

Tyler shakes his head. “I don’t. Once we got here, I went from being a little tipsy to wasted. He could have lost the car, and I would have had no idea.”

I nod. “OK, then plan A. Find Oliver.”

We enter the main level to a smoky, open floor plan bathed in red lights. There’s a round bar smack in the middle of it with an additional level where the DJ is bobbing to the beat at its center. People are milling about, but it’s a lot less crowded than the line outside would have you believe.

“They’re private events mostly,” Tyler tells me without prompting. “They only have public events every few weeks. Other than that, it’s exclusive access only. The draw being the lack of a crowd. No fans, no fanfare. But every now and again, they let in someone who doesn’t belong.”

He looks pointedly at me. Tonight, we’re those people. Thankfully, we’re dressed nicely enough in black attire from the expanse not to cause too much of a scene. If it were any other night, though, I would be thrown out of here on principal.

“Let’s split up and meet at the bar in ten,” I tell Tyler.

He answers by slipping his arm off me and disappearing into the sidelines of the dance floor. He’s confident and casual, lingering into shadowed booths and peeking around dancing women. Even though he didn’t have the password, he fits in here. He morphs before me into one of them and I wonder if I do that, too. If living with the Poes as long as I have has garnered me the same ability to hide my true status among the wealth.

I walk my perimeter looking for the raven hair of a man I could name only by his breathing. I sway my hips and arms to the pounding bass, bumping into any dark suited man who has his back to me, just to see his face. None are Oliver, although by the way a few of them look at me, I know they wish they were. How easy would it be if I could just embrace them instead of this desperate chase my heart refuses to give up.

I reach the bar before Tyler does. I ponder over whether to get us both a drink, knowing I shouldn’t, but feeling the awful sting of defeat pushing against my better judgment. Once Oliver goes home and sees what I’ve done, he may never share the next clue with me. Hell, he might never speak to me again. He’ll be determined to figure it out alone, Paxton be damned. And as punishment, I’ll never know the truth of what happened. I’ll never stop wondering what could’ve been. It’ll be the ultimate, and final, slash Oliver Poe can give to my heart .

Then I see him. He’s removed his jacket and button down and instead stands in a rumpled dark grey tee shirt and black slacks. He’s got one foot kicked out behind him and is leaning against the coat check desk, waiting. His fingers graze circles on its surface, the anatomical heart tattooed on his forearm pumping with the motion. I don’t hesitate as I spring from my seat, eager to have him close before I lose him again.

“Funny seeing you here,” I say, not hiding my irritation at being left behind.

He doesn’t immediately turn to me, but I watch as my presence comes to him in waves. First his shoulders sink, his foot connecting to the ground. Then his hands grip the edge, and his chest deflates on a breath. I can almost hear the argument he’s having with himself right now in his head; she shouldn’t be here, you left her behind. This is what you get for trying to hide things. I’ve heard him enough times to know the turmoil he feels between what he thinks needs to be done and honesty.

“Eve,” he says. “You made it. I was wondering when you might show.”

“Bullshit. You knew without you I didn’t have a chance of finding this place. How could I? We both know the after party was when you sent me home. I didn’t make it this far 10 years ago and I shouldn’t have made it this far now.”

His reply is cutoff at the tip of his tongue when a scantily clad girl comes to the window.

“I can take your ticket if you have one, but I don’t remember you dropping anything off,” she says to Oliver, looking him up and down. “And I would remember.”

His lips twitch up. “You’re right. I didn’t. I was looking for your lost and found. Should be under Oliver Poe.”

Her eyes widen as she nods. “I’ll be right back with that, Mr. Poe.”

“ Mr. Poe, ” I mock. “Since when did you take the reins from Alexander?” I want to needle him, but it does the opposite. He laughs, a real one.

“Please, we both know Alexander never held them in the first place. Madeline has always worn the pants, Poe by blood be damned. Besides, I’ve gotten used to it. Job hazard and all that.”

Often, I forget Oliver is renowned for more than just his name. He’s always been Oliver Poe to me, and Oliver has always written poetry. One never existed without the other, so it is easy for me to forget that the world didn’t always know it, too. With book tours and readings, he’s shared a vital piece of himself that I had always thought of as just ours. The family’s. Something he shared with only those he loved. And that made it hurt too much to remember.

“I guess it would be,” I mumble. The coat check girl doesn’t take long. She slips a piece of paper towards Oliver.

“If you’ll just sign right here saying you’ve received your item. You can leave your number, too, if you’d like,” she says as she leans towards him along with the pen she’s holding out.

Oliver takes and signs it without hesitation, leaving only the scribbles of his name. He doesn’t admire her or flirt. For all I know, he hasn’t even looked at her. A minor slip of satisfaction races through me as she drags back the paper, rejected, but unfazed. With no fanfare, she hands him a book, well-worn and read. Some pages slightly water warped.

“Why do you have my book? And why is it in the lost and found of this disgusting hell den?” I ask, shocked and on the verge of violence.

He holds the first edition Neruda tenderly in his hands, thumbs holding onto the binding while his index fingers skim through its pages. Every single one is painstakingly rewritten by him in the margins, of favorite English versions he’s found or ones he’s taken the liberty of translating himself. It was a gift from him for my twelfth birthday. It had stuffed away just after the incident at the lake, too terrified I’d quote another love poem, to continue losing myself in its pages.

“I… I don’t know. I’d thought I’d lost it. I don’t even remember bringing it here,” he whispers.

“Well, you did. My question is, why did you have it in the first place? You gave it to me. If you wanted it back, you could have asked,” I say accusingly.

He looks struck, unsure. The broken shards of my anger sharpen, ready to be let loose.

“ And you O my soul where you stand, surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space, ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them .”

He quotes Whitman as if he cannot breathe without his words, eyes unfocused on where we are, lost instead in the pages, before he continues and answers me. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s here, and Paxton knew. A little devious to leave it until now to tell me, but how can I be mad at the dead? Since you’re here, are you going to help me look for the next clue, or are you going to pick a fight? Because if it’s the latter, you can leave. We’ll fight when I’m home.”

There’s no bite to his words, just resignation. A man unsure of the path that lay before him. He may have known where to go from Paxton’s clue, but he didn’t expect what he’d found. As much as I want to know why my book is here and why he’d taken it from me, and the pure irritation at how it may have been handled, I can’t leave him here alone when it’s obvious he needs me. For Paxton , I remind myself.

“We’ll find the anchor, Oliver. Just as Whitman said. Do you see anything out of place in the pages?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. Nothing.”

“Do you remember anything from homecoming night when you were here? Anything that Paxton said, or that you did that might give us another clue that connects this place to that book?”

“There you are!” Tyler calls to me.

I watch as Oliver’s face tightens, his chest losing the ease of it being just us. Tyler is making his way from behind us, back where I was supposed to meet him at the bar, a pretty brunette clasping to his arm. My eyes focus in, a question on who he is escorting our way, but he either doesn’t see or ignores it. Instead, he notices Oliver almost immediately. His smile doesn’t waver, but I can see the light dim from his eyes enough to know it still stings for us to all to be together.

“You found him,” Tyler says as he holds out a hand, which Oliver takes in a firm shake. I eye the woman with him, waiting for him to explain. Both Oliver and Tyler don’t bat an eye and continue on as if it is just the three of us.

“She did. I didn’t realize she had a partner in her search, though. Or did you just happen to be at the club tonight and you both ran into each other?” Oliver asks.

He eyes Tyler, unsure of why I would bring someone else into the puzzle only we should be solving. He doesn’t know Paxton has contingencies. I straighten my spine. He was the one who tried to leave me behind. I have nothing to be sorry for.

“Actually, we ran into each other in the driveway of Dellbrook. Tyler was just arriving when you tried to sneak off without me.” I do not waver from my locked stare on Oliver. “Good thing too, since he’s the one who originally wrote the riddle for Paxton. Otherwise, I may have never found you. And it looks like while I was searching, Tyler found someone of his own. Are you going to introduce us?”

Oliver’s eyebrows raise, skeptical as I of Tyler’s involvement and the high pitch of my question.

“Sorry! I forget not everyone has met. Eve, this is Rose. Rose, this is Eve. And you already know Oliver,” he says, squeezing her across the waist.

Rose leans towards me, hand sticking out. “It is so nice to finally meet you, Eve! I’ve heard so much about you. Tyler texted to see if I could help get you in, but it looks like you didn’t need it after all.”

Her smile is soft and understanding, like she knows all the secrets the three of us hold. My throat is squeezing with trepidation, but I land my palm in hers anyway and give it a small but firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you, too!” I squeak out.

Thankfully, Oliver saves me as he chuckles and claps Tyler on the back.

“For all Paxton was, no one could ever claim he was careless. Riddles upon riddles, huh my friend?” he says.

Tyler warms in the glow of Oliver’s companionship. Of acknowledging their shared history, of their fondness for each other outside my company. Before I’d become more in both of their eyes, we were all genuine friends. No matter how long ago that was, I can still see the yearning for it in Tyler’s eyes. Oliver’s face goes serious too quickly, and he mumbles something below the volume neither Tyler nor I can hear.

“What’s that, Oli?” Tyler asks.

“Riddles upon riddles…” Oliver looks to me before grabbing both of Tyler’s shoulders shaking his arms loose from Rose.

“Tyler, this is very important. Do you remember anything from this club on homecoming night? Do you remember this book?” Oliver holds the book to Tyler’s nose.

My hopes fall. If Oliver is relying on Tyler, he’s going to be disappointed, and we’ll be back at square one. Tyler already told me he was good and drunk before he got here, and that he doesn’t remember much.

“Is that… Actually, I do remember that book!” Tyler exclaims, clamoring to hold it in his hands.

My gut clenches with uncertainty. With fear and anticipation. Tyler is flipping through the book, hands steady even in the face of his obvious excitement. With every crisp turn of paper, his eyes skim through the writing, growing antsy and wild. He’s tossing smiles to Rose that say, are you watching? Look how they need me! It fills me with sadness that he needs this validation and ache when I see Rose nodding, giving it to him.

“When I met up with Pax about creating this riddle, he had this book. I didn’t think much of it. You guys always had some book in your lap or bags or whatever. But he kept looking at the pages, pen in hand, but never wrote anything in the margins like normal. So, I noted it and teased him a bit. Asked if he’d lost his God-given talents, and if I’d have to take away his Poe card. He laughed, turned to a page and wrote something. Then he told me that, sometimes, the truth takes time to reveal itself.”

Oliver wants to ask more. It’s on the tip of his tongue when suddenly, Tyler is shoving the book’s cracked spine into Oliver’s face, smiling like a madman.

“You tell me what the odds are that he would have that exact same book, on the exact same day, I wrote the riddle you are currently trying to solve? Doesn’t your family always say that coincidence is just another word for fate?”