‘I can see that,’ he says. His eyes are sad, but smiling, as he pushes my matted hair away from my face. ‘But you’ll get better,’ he whispers. ‘It’s not your fault Rachel killed herself,’ he says. I can’t look at him, though.
It’s not my fault, but I am to blame.
Bo lies down on his back. I sprawl across him with my leg wrapped over his hips and my head on his chest.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,’ I say.
I feel him take a deep breath as he relaxes. ‘No, this was the right time,’ he replies musingly. ‘I knew you were hiding something or . . . I don’t know . . . dealing with something big and dark.’
I lift my head to look at him. ‘Then why’d you keep seeing me?’
He rolls his eyes and grins. ‘I couldn’t stay away from you. I still can’t. Even if it means . . .’ He breaks off suddenly and his eyes turn inward.
‘What?’
‘Even if it means I’m fighting with my father night and day about it,’ he admits.
I was expecting this, but it still stings. ‘Night and day? Really?’
Bo nods. ‘It’s dangerous for him. For my whole family.’
I sit up. ‘I’m not going tell anyone you guys grow pot.’ This is so ridiculous, I almost laugh. ‘It’s legal to grow in small amounts anyway, you know.’
Bo sits up too. ‘This isn’t about the cannabis.’
He can’t look at me, so I know it’s huge. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘Bo. Why is your family hiding out here in the woods? And don’t tell me it’s just because you want to live close to nature.’
He swallows hard and shakes his head, his mouth set. ‘I can’t.’
‘Seriously?’ I nearly shriek. ‘You’re not going to tell me after I told you what I did?’
‘The police aren’t after you because you didn’t commit a convictable crime. They’re after my dad because he . . . he did,’ he says. His eyes are wide and rabbit-like again.
‘What did he do?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ he repeats.
I stand up. ‘I can’t believe you.’
I grab the edge of the blanket, seeing red. I emptied myself out for this guy, and he still doesn’t trust me?
‘Get up,’ I order. He doesn’t move. ‘Get up or I’m going to yank it out from under you.’
He stands up slowly.
‘Move,’ I say when he lingers. His feet are still on the blanket.
‘Lena,’ he says.
‘No,’ I say, cutting him off. ‘I trusted you, and your parents. Do you know that you and your mom are the only people I’ve talked to about this? I never even spoke about it at the hospital. But if you can’t trust me back, then what’s the point?’
I roll up the blanket in a twisted jumble and try to cram it into my backpack, which is nearly impossible if it isn’t folded right. I’m so angry and hurt, and feeling . . . I don’t know – rejected, I guess, that I can’t bear to be near him.
I turn to cross the river, and Bo grabs me. Hard. He holds me in a way that I know I could never break. He’s so strong. He knows how to catch a deer with his bare hands – what chance do I have of getting away? I stop struggling and look up at him, furious. He’s not angry. He’s desperate.
‘If I tell you and we get caught, they will charge you with aiding and abetting, obstruction of justice, and anything else they can think of. This is much bigger than whether or not I trust you.’ He lets me go and stands back. ‘I’m trying to protect you, Lena. Not him.’
I look down. ‘What did he say to you?’