Page 21 of Black Waters

I was shocked when Connie leapt into my arms. It felt good. It felt really good to have a girl know she loved me, possibly how Crash felt with Whit’s love. Lucky bastard.

I swung Constance around. “I meant everything I said.”

She kept hugging my neck and kissed my cheek. “I know. I see it. You being here—this moment, tells me so.” I set her on her feet. She was so much shorter without heels on. “I hope your aunt feels better, Reether.”

I kissed her deeply, thankful for how she made me feel. “I know you do. Are you still headed to Joanna’s tonight?”

“Yes, and will most likely gossip about you all night.”

I left with Constance looking ecstatic and beaming with the love growing between us.

When I arrived at my aunt’s lavish home, she was rosy cheeked, healthy, and delighted by our unexpected late night arrival/visit. I punched my father in the face, to my mother’s horror, and raced back to the airport. In the cab, I called Crash again and again, but his phone kept going straight to voicemail. It was already two a.m., and I didn’t want to alarm Whitney with a call. I kept reminding myself that Ninja would keep his distance, shoot to kill and protect, and no one would be hurt.

By the time I caught a redeye flight and was back on the ground, it was ten in the morning. Getting off the plane with my phone revving back to life from airplane mode, I was shocked to see Harlan’s number calling me. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Harlan practically yelled.

“Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” I was annoyed because I had a lot more important things to deal with than his juvenile problems.

“Oh, my friend, it’s not me… It’s Constance.”

My heart burned with a fire from hell because of Constance and was only compounded with worry for Whitney. Her cell phone kept going straight to voicemail, and she didn’t answer her home phone. I knew if I called the police to check on her, I was asking for this hell on earth to set fire, so I didn’t bring more heat.

Having to face the end of Connie when we had made peace and were headed for an incredibly meaningful relationship was going to change me forever… but losing Whit was going to kill me.

Pulling into Whit’s driveway, I jumped out of the airport shuttle driver’s car before he even stopped and ran full speed toward her house. I banged violently on her door and rang the doorbell over and over. After one-point-two seconds and no response, I took off searching for an entry to her home. When I saw Whit trying to catch up to my rapid movements, I gave thanks to the God I used to believe in. Like Crash, I no longer believed he existed, not after losing innocent Constance.

When Whit was in my arms, I didn’t care if she loved me in return. I didn’t care that she would never be mine the way I wanted. She was alive, and I only had one to mourn. I soaked her with my heart’s tortured tears. I was finally able to begin to grieve for Connie and understand that it wasn’t a conspiracy, just an unfortunate hit-and-run accident. That was until Crash came running down the stairs. I looked at him, wet in a towel, and knew he had somehow been my girlfriend’s death sentence. He knew it too, and I had not one shred of empathy for the bastard.

Jealousy, hatred, and stupidity had me walking away from Whit with only cruel words to spare.

I buried my girlfriend three days later… and no one but Crash and I knew why.

Regretting my coldness toward Whitney, I entered my father’s library solemnly. It wasn’t Whit’s fault that I had yearned for her since puberty hit, and I was pissed Crash had another first on me. It wasn’t her fault that she felt for Crash the way I wanted her to care for me.

“How are we involved?” I asked my father, leaning up against the door jam. I was trying to ground myself with the familiar smell of old books. I had been sitting next to a cold stone with my dead girlfriend’s name on it. I can’t explain what that does to a teenage boy. After learning of Constance’s death, thankfully, my family had returned home to help me mourn.

“Let it go, Reether.”

But I wasn’t mourning. I was bitter and confused. I shut the library doors. “My girlfriend is in the ground!” The words echoed, but the meaning had yet to sink in for me.

Standing in front of his desk, my dad glanced down to the Persian rug in his library with sorrow and sympathy. “Reeth, if I could change that, I swear I would.”

“And Whitney? How do I keep her above ground?”

I had to make amends for something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

He ran his hands over his face. “Don’t associate with her until they get what they want.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You have to, son.”

I felt trapped, and I was. “What do they want?”

My father refused to answer, but I wouldn’t budge. I stood there, staring at him, informing him that I was willing to wait all day and night until I got some answers.

Acknowledging stubbornness at its finest, my father finally said, “They want back the proof being held over their heads. They don’t take well to threats, especially the kind that can do monetary damage. And they want it taken care of before her father becomes more powerful—more capable of shutting down lucrative enterprises.”