Page 21 of Split You Open

A large, heavy hand lands on my shoulder and gives me an appreciative squeeze.

“Santi, you’re incredible,” he praises warmly. “Can you see who owns the accounts?”

“No, they’re all offshore accounts under shell corporations. If I had enough time maybe I could get a name, but I have a feeling I don’t have too much longer before Dixie finds out what I’m doing and puts a stop to it.”

“Right,” Wes nods. “Good thinking. Can I do anything to help?”

“Nope, I got this.”

Wes gives my shoulder another squeeze. “I know you do, Santiago. I never doubted you for a second.”

Six

Rhett

I’ve been sitting, staring at the evidence of destruction for too long from the open side door of the converted van we stole earlier today. We should get moving, I know that. I just can’t find the ability to do so.

From Caddawalk to the small town outside of Bar Harbor, Maine, it should’ve taken us fifteen hours. Instead, it’s taken us nearly a week. With all the redirection and trouble on our heels it took us much longer than anticipated.

Not that it mattered in the end.

The fire that claimed the house must’ve been years ago, judging by the vegetation that’s grown around the charred remains of my family’s second home. I haven’t been able to tear my eyes away from the rubble.

Memories of my time here are faint, but the feelings inspired by them are clear. We all loved it here. Near the water, you can hear the crashing of waves against the shore but if you look to the west, you see trees for miles. I loved both the water and woods. I used to fish with my dad on the edge of the cliff.

Play hide and seek with Mom in the woods.

Chase Abby around this very yard in a game of tag.

All that feels like a lifetime ago.

The pangs of heartache make it hard to breathe. Hard to move. So, I do little of both. I simply sit and stare.

I’m not sure how much time has passed since we arrived and when Blair sits down beside me. She doesn’t say anything. Her feet dangle next to mine as we both stare at the remains of the house. The sun’s rays warm my face, but the cool Maine air sweeps the warmth away before it sinks too deep.

I don’t realize how cold my hands are until one of Blair’s slides over one of mine.

I can feel the heat creeping up my wrist and into my arm. It doesn’t reach my chest but that’s because I find it already warm. Strange… The pain gripping my heart has receded. It was so subtle I’m only now noticing how easy breathing is too. Tearing my gaze away from what's left of my family’s estate, I look down to where Blair is touching me.

“Oh… sorry,” she mutters, quickly pulling away before jumping up.

My jaw clenches as I try not to be affected by her swift recoil. The past few days the two of us have been doing this strange back and forth. One of us will try to reach out but choke before committing to anything. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, and I don’t know what Blair’s hesitation is, but I ache to bridge this gap between us—I just don’t know how.

Blair reaches into her pocket as she turns to look back at me.

“I found this,” she says. “I noticed it sticking out of a notch in a tree nearby.”

She reaches out her closed fist, and I hold out my hand. Blair opens her fingers and something small and light falls into my palm.

I bring it to eye level and study the plastic toy lion. My heart skips a beat. I remember this toy. It wasn’t mine. It was Abby’s. The color has faded from the mane, and the paint is missing from its little eyes but it’s almost exactly the same as I remember it. Knowing what I’ll find on the small platform it’s standing on, I flip it over. There, written in Abby’s handwriting, is the name “Leo”.

“Leo’s my favorite so don’t lose him but I’ll let you borrow him, Tyler.”

Her words are clear in my head. Rather than pain, they bring a smile to my face. In the end Abby lost Leo. We’d searched everywhere before leaving that summer. My fingers close around the toy as my heart swells.

When I look up to thank Blair, she’s already gone.

“Okay, so the good news is I think we’re going to be safe here tonight,” Blair announces as she jogs around the side of the van. “Judging by the lack of tire tracks, the park rangers don’t make their rounds often in this section of the park.”