23. Ian

23

Ian

Now

T he smile on Georgia's face nearly ruins me. The vulnerability, the trust, and the obvious joy that beams back at me are enough to chase all the dark shadows that my father's unwanted presence has left behind.

It's just her and I—us.

After that horrible lecture my father gave me yesterday, his insisting that I grill Georgia and ask her why she's really here because there's no way that she's here to just visit her ill father...

The last thing I want is to have his negativity and unapproval surrounding this moment with her. Any moment with her.

"Why don't we just talk in here instead of in the library?" Georgia suggests, her lips pulling into a smile I can't quite make out.

Is she nervous to be alone with me all of a sudden? Did my father say more to her than the few lines I overheard as I checked on Auden one last time across the hall before coming to this room to escort Georgia to the library?

Not that she needs an escort. She's tough as nails and can take down a linebacker when she's upset enough. She's tackled me to the ground enough times in our childhood for me to know that she doesn't need to be protected from whatever living things lurk in the night.

She's the bravest person I've ever met, until it comes to her .

I've vowed to protect Georgia in any way I could from her mother's spirit ever since the first time she saw her mother's ghost in the office all those years ago. And while I've never seen the ghost of Caroline, I believe Georgia, and I know it's my fault she's still being tormented decades later.

"Oh, come on, get out of your head and sit with me," Georgia says in her sassy take-no-shit way. "I want to read more of my mother's diary."

I watch as she gets herself comfortable on the sofa, tugging the blue blanket from the edge of the messy bed across from her into her lap. The diary in her hands almost disappears in a heap on her lap because the diary and blanket are the same dark shade of blue. She raises an eyebrow at me and pats the open spot next to her on the couch.

"Come on, Ian. I won't bite," she teases, all uneasiness and nervousness that tainted the room moments before dissipating completely as I cross the room and take my spot next to her. She hands the diary to me with a sly smile.

"Yeah, yeah, woman," I mutter. "Don't rush me." I can't help the stupid grin that takes over my face. It's impossible to control it when I'm around her. "Okay," I say, flipping through the pages carefully. "Where did we leave off?"

"There's a ribbon somewhere." Georgia leans over me, and I give her a puzzled look. "You know, like a bookmark? Diaries typically have slim ribbons to mark the spot in the book," she says as she reaches and grabs the bottom of the diary, bringing it closer to her face until she spots said ribbon and opens the diary to the correct entry. Her perfume smells like lavender and vanilla, all mixed in one.

It's a scent I could drown in.

I nearly choke on my next breath when the thought crosses my mind. I don't take drowning lightly after what happened to Ree.

"You okay?" Georgia asks softly. "You sort of disappeared there."

I let out an amused chuckle. "I forget sometimes that you know me so well."

"About as well as you know me, I suppose," she muses, laying her head against my shoulder. "Now, let's read before we start getting all sappy and ruining it with all our tortured secrets."

This time, my lungs do stop in my chest because I know tonight is more than just us being us. Tonight feels heavier, more important.

My fate will be decided tonight. My life will either go exactly back to the way it has been over the last six years, miserably alone and wishing I wasn't such a coward when I left Georgia in that bed the way I did.

Or it'll be the turning point in this tug-of-war relationship we've had since we were kids, tormented by our losses as grief attempted to swallow us whole while we clung to each other for dear life.

For some odd reason, I'm nervous to read this next passage. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at full attention, and I look around the room in a nonchalant manner so I don't spook Georgia. I never see anything, no ghosts like she does.

But I swear I can feel them, watching me, judging me, waiting for me in the darkest corners of the rooms here at Crane.

I shake my head, snapping myself out of my eerie thoughts before I clear my throat and bring Caroline's diary closer to my face so I can read it easier in the muted light.

Dear Georgia,

I have no words. Truly, I am at a loss for them.

I just got done tucking you back into bed. You remembered nothing from the lake. I wish I had that same luxury tonight.

Because tonight, I committed the worst possible sin a mother could ever commit.

I did something horrible, truly monstrous . . .

Before I can read further, Georgia snatches the book out of my hand and grips it tightly to her chest. Her face is void of all color, making the splash of freckles on her cheeks look like splatters of black ink.

"Georgie?" I know my eyes must be a mixture of shock and concern. "What happened?" I place my hand on her knee, squeezing gently, hoping it'll jar her out of whatever inner turmoil she's battling.

She finally meets my eyes. "Ian, there's something I need to tell you. Something I've needed to tell you for years," she whispers, her lower lip trembling with each word. "Something you're going to hate me for." Her voice is a gentle whisper, but the words give me goosebumps.

I turn so we are facing each other. I grab onto her hands, forcing the diary to fall on her lap, and twine my fingers with hers. "Whatever it is, Georgia," I tell her, hoping that my voice isn't shaking the way my chest is, "we will figure it out. I promise."

She shakes her head as two tears stream down her face.

"I don't know how to even start this conversation, Ian," she gasps out, her chest shaking with each breath.

"Shh, it's okay. Let's just start at the beginning, you know, like a storybook. Like we used to do when we were kids and were too upset for words. Where does this tale take place?" I ask her calmly.

"Here, at Crane Manor."

I take another calming breath, hoping she'll follow along. "Okay, that's good. Now, when does this tale take place?"

She yanks her hands out of mine and covers her face completely as huge, body-racking sobs escape her. I pull her into my arms, holding her close and stroking her back in comforting caresses until she's ready to talk again.

"It happened the night Irene died," she finally says, her whole body tensing in my arms.

Irene?

That is not what I was expecting to come out of her mouth. What about my sister's death could be the cause of Georgia's distress right now?

"Remember how I used to sleepwalk as a child?" Georgia asks. I shake my head yes; she must have felt it because she continues. "The night she died...she was at a sleepover here at Crane."

I pull Georgia away so I can see her face, and when I see the absolute anguish and guilt in her eyes... I know.

"No," I choke out. "No. Irene was walking home because she never slept well here at the manor, and she fell into the lake and drowned. That's what happened, Georgia. That has to be what happened. Tell me this is some kind of fucked up joke. Please tell me it's not true." My voice cracks. "Please, Georgia."

"I wish I was lying. I wish it was some nightmare and when I woke up that we'd be whole again, the three of us together like it was meant to be. I wished it was me instead. I've wished for that since the moment the lie left my lips."

"Why did you lie?"

She looks down at her hands, twisting them in the blue blanket in her lap. "Because I don't remember any of it, Ian. When I woke up, I was in the bathroom with my mother and she was dressing me in a new nightgown. I remember she was crying and kept telling me that none of it was my fault. Then she put me to bed, and when I woke up the next morning...I heard your mother screaming," Georgia says.

"When I was finally told what had happened, that Irene had drowned, I knew somehow it was my fault." She wipes at the tears on her face angrily. "Because I also remembered my hair being wet after my mother put me back in bed."

Realization dawns on me.

No.

"You sleepwalked into the lake?"

"Yes."

"Irene followed you?"

"Yes."

"And my little sister drowned trying to save you."

"Yes," Georgia cries out. "I told you...it's all my fault she died. I don't know exactly what happened, but I assume that I must have swam out of the lake while I was sleeping. I don't know why Irene didn't! She was always a better swimmer than me, but you know how dark and scary the lake is at night. Maybe she just got turned around and couldn't see the shore, or she was still tired from being up in the middle of the night. That's what I think must have happened." Her voice trails off as she sniffles loudly, wiping at her eyes again.

Tears prickle behind my own eyes, and I press my palms hard into my face, trying to stave off the onslaught of the river that's waiting to be unleashed. I haven't cried since Irene died, but this. Hearing this. Reliving her last moments, at least as closely as anyone can.

Finally knowing why she was in the lake in the middle of the night to begin with...

"But why did you lie, Georgia?" I ask through gritted teeth. It's the only part that doesn't make sense to me.

She sucks in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Because my mother told me I had to or else I would be taken away from her." Her voice is void of feeling, and it forces me to remove my hands from my face. "She said the cops would send me to jail for killing my best friend and that I'd never see her, or any of you guys, ever again."

"You were just a child," I say, forcing my own voice to become softer. "It was obviously an accident. It had to be. I've been around you when you have your sleep episodes; nobody can get through to you when you're stuck in a dream. But they never made you violent, Georgia." I reach over and squeeze her hands.

My heart feels like it's being shattered in two. I've always wondered why Irene drowned. Like Georgia said, Irene was the strongest swimmer out of all of us. And Georgia had no control over herself when she was trapped in those dreams.

For Georgia to keep this secret all her life...she must have been so lonely and so scared. It doesn't make it right that Caroline forced her to lie, to put that type of pressure on a child. That's unforgivable.

But, if I had a child and this happened to them, I think I might have said anything to make sure they didn't get sent away.

Does knowing that Georgia was the reason Irene was in the lake in the first place change anything?

No, it doesn't. Because after all these years, it was still just an accident. A tragic, horrible accident. But an accident nonetheless.

"My little sister's death wasn't your fault," I tell her gently. "I'm sorry that you've lived all these years thinking that it was."

Georgia looks up at me, so many emotions flashing over her features. "How can you say that it wasn't my fault? I'm the reason she was in the lake! My own mother tried to kill me because she couldn't live with having a murderer for a daughter! I've lived with that guilt my whole life, Ian. I can't just let it go."

"Would you want Auden to blame herself if this happened to her? Would you look at her with anything but love if this accident had happened to her?"

Georgia opens her mouth, then closes it again. Her eyes are glued to mine as she shakes her head back and forth. "No, of course not." Her voice cracks.

"That's what I thought," I tell her, flashing a sad but understanding smile. "It doesn't change the way I feel about you, Georgia. I know this isn't easy; hell, none of the secrets we've kept from each other have been easy. Your mother was wrong, and I'm so sorry for what she tried to do to you. I hate that you've lived with this for so many years. But thank you for finally telling me the truth about Irene's death. You aren't alone anymore." I run my hands through my hair nervously. "But you might not feel the same way about me once I tell you why I really left you with nothing but a goodbye note six years ago," I admit.

Those brilliant gray eyes of hers look at me with such a heartbreakingly confused expression. "Ian, I just told you one of the darkest parts of myself, the secret that's haunted me for decades, and your response was that you don't blame me." She crawls into my lap, fitting herself perfectly in my arms, and lays her head against my chest. "There's nothing you can say that could be worse than what I did, the secret I kept. I won't let whatever you did ruin this or change my mind about us, either. You can tell me anything, Ian."

And so I tell her.