Page 35 of Pocketful of Shame
Another laugh came down the line. "I'll be careful, I promise, but you know as well as I do that we need to find that journal," he said, tone sobering. "We're getting nowhere fast and that girl's too close to cracking to push for more details."
He was right.Dammit. I sighed in defeat. "So, where do you think the journal is?"
"I'm not certain," he replied. "But I'm gonna start back at the site of the crash and go from there."
My brows shot up. "Pres, that was almost a year ago. If it fell out of the car, it's long gone."
"See, that's the thing, Sketch," he countered. "I don’t think it fell out of the truck or got misplaced. In fact, I don’t think it's missing at all."
I frowned. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I think Romi knowsexactlywhere the journal is and she's forced herself to forget, because whatever the hell that journal contains is something she's not ready to face."
My eyes almost bugged out of my head. "Are you serious?"
"Think about it; Romi doesn’t remember a damn thing for almost a year, and then you and her bury the hatchet and all of a sudden we're getting a very detailed account of what happened to Chris. I'm telling you, man, she knows so much more than she thinks she knows and the closer you are to her, the safer she feels. The safer she feels, the more she remembers. Whether you like it or not, you're her crutch, man."
"What do you need from me?" I asked, jaw clenched.
"Make her feel safe. Be her friend. Get hertalking," he encouraged. "Meanwhile, I'll go back and retrace her steps – and hopefully stumble upon a clue or two."
"Fuck, Pres." I blew out a frustrated breath. "It's not that easy for me."
"Because you're sickeningly in love with her and have been since you were five years old even though she betrayed you in the ultimate way by hooking up with your brother?" he offered, tone laced with a fucked-up mixture of frustration, humor, and sympathy. "Yes, yes, we all know, but you have to push the pain aside and try to get her to talk to you. We need that journal, Sketch, and you're the best chance we have of getting her to spill her guts. She's a treasure chest of crucial information and you're the only person who can crack her open. The most important treasure she possesses right now are her memories of the night Chris died and the location of his journal, so please,pleasetry to get her talking."
A flash of my conversation with Romi this morning filtered through my thoughts, bringing with it this fucked up wave of déjà vu. Flinching, I quickly batted it away. It was a dream. A goddamn dream. "Fine." I clenched my eyes shut and sighed heavily. "I'll try."
"Thank you." He sighed in relief. "I'll keep looking for it, but call me the minute she says anything – no matter how small. I have no idea what else she's hiding, but anything that comes out of her mouth could be a vital clue."
"I said I'd try," I growled, feeling flustered. "Just…just hurry up, okay?"
"Will do," he replied and then, after a pause, asked, "So, now that you're back in each other's sights, so to speak, are you gonna make a move?"
"Goodbye, Pres."
"Wait, wait, wait, you can't just leave me hanging –"
Clicking the receiver back down, I pushed my hands through my hair and shook off the tremor in my legs before making my way back to our room. I spent a good forty minutes leaning against the door before finding my balls and letting myself inside.
Like I predicted, Romi was exactly where I left her when I slipped out to make the call – fast asleep on the only bed in the room. I frowned as my gaze swept over her frail frame. Since Chris's death, her weight had plummeted.
Instantly a surge of guilt swept through me and I forced myself to stand there and feel it, to take it all in and to accept responsibility for all the bad things I'd done to her.
Even now, as I grabbed a blanket and settled down on the couch for the night, I found myself drowning in my regrets. Keeping my eyes on Romi, I rolled onto my side and considered everything that had happened since she fell out of that tree. It felt like forever ago, not a handful of days. I felt different, too. Older and more weathered, if that made sense? Definitely still confused, though. Yeah, I was still as lost as I'd been that day in the hospital and being in this room with her only intensified my confusion.
You're a masochist, Sketch,my brother's voice chuckled in my head,this will all end in tears.
Yeah, imaginary voice of my dead brother or not, I couldn’t agree more.
Chapter Eleven
Romi
Five days passed and there was still no sign of Presley. Holed up in a stuffy motel room with no one but each other for company, Sketch and I fell into this strangely silent routine. And when I say silent, I mean we barely spoke. Like, at all. We woke, mumbled ourgood morningsto each other, and then fell into a horribly tense silence until lunch, where we spoke about our meal and the weather. In the evenings, we played a game of cards we found in the drawer of one of the nightstands. At bedtime, it was the same; we said our goodnights before he took the couch and I took the bed. We were both walking on eggshells around each other, both reluctant to rock the boat by speaking our truths, and it sucked.
When I woke the following Thursday morning, it was still dark outside. Jerking my arms and legs, I sagged in relief when I realized that I wasn't back in Tully House and strapped down. When reality slowly settled down on me, I sat up and looked around the motel room. The couch was empty and Sketch was nowhere in sight. Panic seized my chest for a moment until the sound of running water filled my ears. Exhaling shakily, my gaze moved to the light bleeding through the crack in the slightly ajar bathroom door. The hum of the shower was obnoxiously loud, nothing like the one I was used to at home, and weirdly enough, it gave me comfort.
"Shit, did I wake you?" Sketch asked a moment later when he strode into the bedroom with nothing but a white towel hugging his narrow hips. "Sorry," he added, with a toothbrush balancing between his lips. "When I can't sleep, I usually take a shower."
