Maybe he doesn’t really think of me…like that.
Maybe…
Shit.
PITY. He feels sorry for me.
Because of his mom. Because he didn’t take me to the hospital.
Red flames on my cheeks as I gather myself together mentally, trying to separate my body from how hot we felt together.
And he’s still just standing there, his expression uncertain.
“Ah, I see how it is,” I mutter under my breath.
“Do you?” he says, and then the rest of his words come at me in an angry rush. “You want to pretend I haven’t wanted you? Go ahead, tell yourself those lies. But the truth is, you don’t know who hurt you that night. You’re still reeling from the aftershocks and I’m not good for you—” He stops abruptly. “Forget that. We have to get out of here before we get caught. There’s a side exit to the right that leads outside and goes around to the library. You take that and I’ll walk through the auditorium—”
He’s dismissing me. Us.
“Don’t tell me how I feel about that night! Maybe it was your brother who hurt me.”
He looks stricken. “No, no, Tulip. It wasn’t.”
All that seething anger rushes back and fills me up, wiping away everything we just talked about. My fists curl. If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that Knox will protect him until the end—and me? I’m just collateral damage.
I glare at him and he stares back, reading my face. “Tulip, don’t leave pissed. I didn’t mean for this to happen. We can just forget about it—”
Forget? Ha!
I cross my arms. “Too late for that. You just ruined what could have been—nothing, just nothing! You take the exit and I’ll walk through the auditorium, Cold and Evil.”
“Please. Don’t—”
Ignoring him, I whip around and fumble through the curtains until I’m in the small stairwell that leads to the aisles.
Halfway running, I dash through the students filling the seats. I find my backpack near the rear, grab it, and run for the double doors. I don’t stop, my breathing torn and weak as I stumble into the stairwell and make it all the way down to the first floor.
Forget him, dammit. Forget him forever.
14
I’m jogging down our quiet street on Saturday morning when I see Dad’s white BMW glide up to our wrought iron gates at the end of our road. His finger pushes in the code and his car moves down the lane to our three-story, Spanish-style mansion. About damn time. Sweat drips off me, and my muscles feel like lead after getting up early and running, but I pick up my pace. Normally, I’d sleep in a few hours on Saturday, saving my run for the gym later, but I woke up early, my head replaying Ava and me in the auditorium on Friday.
Ava with her lips on me.
Ava walking away from me.
She says she doesn’t blame me for what happened, but it doesn’t change the fact that deep down, part of me knows I can’t be involved with her.
There’s too much going on with me.
Dad looks up from the kitchen counter where he’s making coffee. “Hey! I thought you were asleep still. Morning run?” He half-smiles, but there’s appreciation in his tone that I’m keeping my endurance up for football. He played quarterback for Camden back in his day, and him watching Dane and me play has been the only stabilizing aspect of our relationship.
Wearing a suit, even on a Saturday, he’s tall, about six four, with dark brown hair. In his early forties, he’s going gray a little at his temples, but that doesn’t stop women from falling all over him. Maybe he dates while he’s in New York, but somehow I doubt there’s ever been a serious girlfriend. In the years since Mom passed, he’s never once mentioned a woman.
Sometimes I’m afraid I’m going to end up just like him, pushing everything down and locking it away. We barely saw him this summer except for a short vacation at our beach house on Kiawah Island where he spent the majority of his time on his laptop and phone while Dane and I roamed nearby Charleston.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I say before walking to the fridge, grabbing a Gatorade, and chugging it down.
He pours his coffee in a mug and takes a long sip.
I settle in on one of the barstools at the white granite island in the middle of the kitchen. “It’s good to see you.” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice and he hears it, a grimace crossing his face.
“I missed your first week back at Camden. How was it?” He does a double take when he searches my face. “Your eye has purple under it. Fighting already?”
My lips tighten. I’ve been known to use my fists, especially in middle school when everything went down with Mom. Most of the time, I save it for my opponents on the football field. I’ve learned to control my temper, but this week, well… “Shitty. You need to be here more. Dane’s not right.”
Sighing, he takes a seat. “He seemed fine this summer. Isn’t he taking his meds? Should we call his therapist and get him more sessions?”
“Maybe. I can’t exactly watch over him every day. He’s using again, more than usual. I know he’s been high at school, and he didn’t come home last night.”
He starts. “Suzy—”
I frown. “She’s mostly here during the day, and she isn’t his parent. I’m the one trying to keep up with him. And don’t freak out. He texted me that he was at Liam’s.”
He loosens his tie and gives me a sweeping look, a scowl on his face as he takes my words in. “So, Ava Harris is back. I saw where the bank cut a check to Camden for housing. I assume it was for her since Trask mentioned she’d requested it?”
I press my lips together.
“You’re still spending your money on her? On a girl you barely know?” He inhales.
“I don’t barely know her. She sits next to me in class.”
He starts, frowning heavily as he gives me a hard look, as if trying to figure me out. He never liked me hiring the P.I. back in November, but Dane and I both have access to our own money that Mama left to us. I insisted and insisted and threw in his face that it was my money and I could do whatever I wanted with it. That was a strained few days after we got back from the U2 concert after our police interviews and I told him what I was doing. He told me I was ridiculous, his face angry. He looked like he wanted to tussle with me, but that’s never been his style. I told him I didn’t give a shit what he thought. He wasn’t the one at that party. He wasn’t the one who left. Eventually, he came around to the idea because he thought it might help clear Dane and me if the police pressed us harder. They didn’t.
“I did pay for it.”
“Why?” His eyes search my face. “You can’t change what happened, and you had nothing to do with it.”
“I’m not trying to make up for what happened to her,” I say tightly. “Nothing can do that.”
But…
I want her to be happy.
And being with me won’t do that. The fact that she even wanted to kiss me blows my mind.
Changing directions, I say, “Dane keeps dreaming he was there in the woods with her.”
Dad pales and his mug clatters on the countertop. “What the hell?”