“They’re on vacation until next week, so we have the place to ourselves. You’re all welcome to stay as long as you want to. You don’t have to leave unless you really need to go. I have enough room for all of you.” She walks us through the large foyer and shows us around the downstairs, pointing out the fully stocked, spotless kitchen. The living room has a seventy inch television hung above a fake fireplace, and her backyard has a full-sized pool, complete with a diving board. Upstairs are five bedrooms, and she immediately invites Cline to stay with her, which he does not object to at all. She offers the guest bedroom to Elliot and myself, but also points out that I’m more than welcome to stay in Thursday’s room if I prefer.
Elliot’s face is completely smooth and expressionless when I place my bag in the guest bedroom with his.
“The tree is about twenty five miles from here, so we should get changed and head out around nine, according to what my mom wrote about the place,” I tell him as I start pulling things out of my overnight bag.
“What exactly is this again?” Elliot asks, sitting heavily on the queen size bed and falling backward onto it, his head rolled to the side so he can face me as I continue to pull out clothes for the night.
“It’s called The Confession Tree. It’s in the woods off the side of these intersecting neighborhoods, behind a cemetery. The tree itself is dead, and the top is rotted off, but the base is really tall. It’s hollow and someone carved out a hole, like a doorway, where people can get inside. Wendy’s journal said that she went there with a group of people she was traveling with right before she met Patrick, and they took turns going in two at a time and confessing things to one another. I don’t know exactly what.” I gather up my toiletries and turn to face his curious gaze.
“You already know what you’re going to say, don’t you.” It’s not a question. Elliot is too smart for that.
“I have things I need to tell him, Elliot. And this might be the only way I can get him to listen to me and not judge me or yell or run away. It’s worth a shot. And if it backfires, then at least I’ll have tried.” My hands are shaking, and I hold everything closer to my body to stop it.
He sits up and looks me over, his dark eyes searching. “And me? Am I coming in with you?”
I smile. “Depends on if you have something to tell me, I guess.” I don’t wait for his answer before I leave the room to take a shower and prepare myself for what’s coming next.
Anderson’s truck is made for the type of trip we’re about to embark on, and September assures us that he wouldn’t have an issue with us taking it. Cline is giddy with excitement, climbing behind the driver’s seat of the Chevy extended cab, adjusting the mirrors, sliding his girl closer to his side before roaring out of her driveway and into the warm Mississippi night.
We ride with the windows rolled down, a faint knowledge of where our destination should be, and nothing but headlights in front of us and the radio turned up to almost deafening levels. Cline has his head out the window, hair blowing in the wind, shouting into the night like he’s lost his damn mind. Then I realize he’s just happy. I’ve forgotten how that looks on him; it’s been so long.
My hand instinctively grabs for Elliot’s across the seat, and he takes it, twining our fingers together and placing our hands on his left thigh. He shifts closer, only an inch or so, but it’s enough to make the tension in my shoulders relax. I chance a look at his profile in the darkness of the backseat, and he has his eyes closed while the air from the windows hits his face, the wind ruffling his dark hair back and making his eyelashes flutter in the breeze. I have fought the growing attraction inside of me with every ounce of willpower that I have, but in this exact moment, I know I can’t anymore.
I have feelings for him, and I am scared shitless by what that means.
After a few more minutes of staring, his eyes open, and I look away, out my window, trying to tuck my hair behind my ear like I’ve been enjoying the scenery outside instead of inside the cab of the truck. A pulse of his hand against mine alerts me to the twitching in my fingers, and I take a deep breath and turn to look at him again. He licks his lips and leans forward, but this time I don’t back away or stay still, I move toward him, too. His cheek grazes mine and he places a soft kiss by my ear.
“We’re almost there,” he says, low and deep, causing me to shiver. I nod in response, and he pulls back to give me a smile of encouragement. I focus on his words and his mouth. How he says his s’s. The way they come out different and thicker than anything else he says. I think about his eyes and how kind they are or how concerned he can be. What they looked like when he jumped from the cliff and came up out of the water, his head emerging and eyes seeking me out to grab me and hug me to him while he yelled in excitement.