by Lindsey Iler
Broken glass. Smashed drywall. Papers everywhere.
“Jesus, this place is a mess,” I whisper, frustrated that I have one more thing to deal with later. Compared to fighting murder charges, taking care of this mess will be easy.
“Did you think we’d clean it for you?” Byron sits in the chair in the corner.
“Fuck, man!” I yell, jumping away from him. “Let your presence be known or something when someone walks into their room. What are you doing in here, anyway?”
“I’ve been sitting up here since William said he was going to get you.”
“You knew I was getting out, and you didn’t bother to come?” I tug the shirt over my head and throw it on the bed.
I don’t know why I’m angry with Byron. This shouldn’t surprise me. Things between us have been strained from the moment he took our plan and shot it up with adrenaline and hysteria. If he didn’t love Reed so damn much, to the point he’s rendered useless, if I didn’t understand that kind of fury, he’d be a shred of the man he is now after I was finished with him.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” His voice raises as he lifts to his full height, and panic settles into his features.
“We’re not in a relationship, Byron.” I hold up my hand. “Chill out. I’m just giving you shit.”
“I don’t even know what to do anymore.” He heads for the door. “For the first time, in a long time, I feel a little bit more alone than I’ve ever been before.”
“What do you want me to say? That all that shit you caused on the rooftop is forgiven? Because it’s not. I don’t think it ever will be.” I move in front of him, holding the top of the door, ready to close it. “You were in love with Reed in a way I don’t think I’ll ever be able to comprehend, and that love you feel jeopardized everything.”
“I did it for all of us.” If he truly means that, he’d be brave enough to look me in the eyes.
“Don’t do that.” I shake my head. “Don’t put any of this on us. You switched gears. You went full on American Psycho on her when the plan was only to drag Reed’s killer out of the dark.”
“And that was the plan,” Byron pleads.
“Did you think he’d follow us up to the roof and steal the knife from you?” Byron places a foot in front of the door to stop me from shutting it on him. “You stabbed her. Have you even let that sink in, that instead of scaring the girl, you took a blade and ran it through her perfect skin?”
“I think about it every damn day.” As he fucking should.
“Good, because if I have anything to say about it, Palmer isn’t going anywhere.” I push on the door, forcing him to retreat.
“You love her then?” His voice is accusatory, and I resent him for it.
“I like her enough to want her to still be breathing every day that follows this one, so . . .” I close the door before he can say another word.
Stripping the rest of my clothes off, I head for the shower. The solace of quiet is almost unbearable. I rest my arm against the tiled wall, allowing the hot water to hit every muscle in my body. Steam takes over the bathroom, and seconds pass without a single breath entering my lungs. I want to know what it’s like to feel the end nearing, how Palmer must have felt on that rooftop.
Once the water runs cold, I get out and wrap a towel around my waist. On the edge of the mattress, I sit and point the remote at the television. When the screen fires up, there Palmer is, sitting on her bed. Her head hangs low, and her hair feathered across her cheek makes it damn near difficult to see her face.
“Come on, baby,” I say to the screen. “Look up. Let me see that face. Let me know you’re okay.”
As if she can hear me, her head lifts slowly. The brown curtain lifts from around her face. Her eyes, like deep oceans, stare directly at the camera. There’s no way she knows where it’s at, though. Dixon wouldn’t be stupid enough to put it in plain sight. She stands and walks directly beneath the camera, vanishes for a second, then returns with a chair. She climbs on top and smacks her hand against it, shaking the lens, before plunging the screen into darkness and concealing the only view I have into her life right now.
Smart girl has found the way we’re keeping an eye on her. Her middle finger appears first, then her not-so-surprising cocky smile.
“I hid it in the ceiling. She’d be able to see if she looked hard enough. Clearly the girl has learned not to trust us. I figured we had a week before she noticed it.” Dixon shrugs, a yawn taking over his face. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“What am I supposed to do until then? She knows we’re watching her.” A headache starts to form behind my eyes.
“Sounds like a you problem, Marek.” He grins, enjoying torturing me. “Maybe you should start with I’m sorry I didn’t stop them.” Manic laughter echoes through the house as he leaves my room.
“Funny!” I yell. My eyes catch the screen, and I abandon wanting to kick Dixon’s ass to watch Palmer.
She reaches out of view, and after several seconds, she holds up a piece of white paper. My eyes transfer the image to my brain, and I recognize the words. Somehow, they get lost. I read them again, and the same thing occurs. With a quick hard pinch, I close my eyes and open them again.
The paper is lowering as I do, but slow enough I can understand what I’m reading.
I was wrong to forgive you.
Blood rushes to my head, and I rub my temples to ease the settling ache. My chest burns, and instant relief comes when I realize I’m holding my breath and finally release it.
Without abandon, I rush to put on shorts and a hoodie, zipping it as I jump down the stairs.
“Where you headed in such a hurry?” Breaker calls from the living room.
“I’ll be back.” I grab the keys from the entry table.
“Tell Palmer I said hey and to answer my texts.” Breaker’s happy-go-lucky laughter pisses me off.
“I got more important things to worry about than my girl texting you.” I rush to the front door, excitement spurring to life at the thought of seeing Palmer, even if that note tells me it won’t be pretty for me.
Breaker’s laugh follows me outside and relentlessly mocks me until I shut it out with a slam of the driver’s door.
The drive to campus is quiet. I don’t turn on the music, preferring the silence. There’s comfort in my own thoughts, even as mangled as they are. Driving twice the speed limit through the streets, I grab the baseball hat sitting on the dash and slip it on for camouflage. I’m punching the passcode into Palmer’s building within ten minutes of leaving the house.
I skip the elevator and take the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top to check the hallway. When I see it’s empty, I shoot across the floor, turn the knob of her room, and find it unlocked. What is she thinking?
Palmer screeches as I shut myself inside. My back hits the door with a loud thud. Pain darts up my spine, awakening the nerves. Will it leave a bruise like it did on Palmer’s? The memory of her pinned against the door, the pressure of my body against her, excites me.
“It’s reckless to leave your door unlocked.” I stalk towards her.
“Maybe I’m looking to be hurt.” She inches away, creating space I don’t want to give her.
“Now is not the time to be stupid, Palmer.” I close the gap between us, but this time she doesn’t try to evade me.
“Marek.” She sways towards me. Her eyes say everything she doesn’t. She wants to rip my clothes off, but not before she wreaks havoc on me.
I lift my hand to grab for the hem of her shirt, and a sharp pinch rains over my face. Surprised, I glance up to Palmer’s pleased smile.
“What the hell was that for?” I run my hand over my cheek and down my jaw to alleviate the pain.
“That was for allowing Byron to do what he did to me”— she jabs her finger at my face, then slaps me again— “and this is for using me as some sort of pawn, which I still don’t understand.”
“WHOA! Okay.” I hold my hands up and tr
y to dodge her, but she has me cornered.
Her body is so close to mine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her angry like this. The last forty-eight hours for her has obviously been used to compile a list of reasons to hate me. There’s plenty there to write down, and I’m surprised it’s taken this long.
“You had me right where you wanted me, Marek.” The sadness in her voice forces me to swallow the lump in my throat.
“It wasn’t like that,” I plead.
“The worst part is I thought I wanted to be there, too. I only played into your hand because I was desperate to understand my sister’s fucking fascination with all of you, but I don’t care anymore. I’m washing my hands of it all.”
“I know I fucked up, but you need to understand something . . .”
“I’m not going to take part in this anymore. You don’t get to play your devilish games and have me at your feet. I’m done.” She pushes me towards the door, opens it, and shoves me into the hallway.
“Let me explain some things to you, Palmer,” I beg.
“No.” She lifts her hand again and laces it across my cheek. This time, I’m expecting it, and the sting doesn’t last as long. I stare down the end of her fingers, into her beautiful blue eyes. “That is for the fact that you were in love with my sister, and you used that against me in a time of weakness, which I seem to have with you far too often than not.”
I don’t know what I can say or do to make her let me explain. By the fire in her eyes, I suspect she’s made her mind up.
“Is there anything I can do that will make you listen to me?” I know how I sound, like a desperate piece of shit who isn’t willing to take the blows he’s earned. “Let me tell you everything. No more secrets.”
“There is, actually.” She crooks her finger in the air, calling me forward. I inch closer, and the door is violently slammed in my face. “Go fuck yourself, Marek.”
“I’m not giving up!” I shout through the door.
“Of course, you will, because a boy like you isn’t capable of being vulnerable, Marek.” There’s a soft thud from the other side of the door. I imagine it’s her head resting against the only thing keeping us apart. “Go home. Try not to go to jail again, but leave me the hell alone.”
Defeated, I head down the stairs, tugging my hat low on my face as I turn the corner. My shoulder smacks into a girl passing me on the stairwell.
“Excuse me,” I say, gripping her arms to steady her, afraid she’ll hit the floor. She jerks away as if my touch burns her, tugging the sleeves of her oversized hoodie down past her fingers. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”
She’s clearly frazzled, and I’m taken aback when she lifts her head, exposing her face. A bruise runs along her tear-soaked cheek. Her red-rimmed eyes plead for me to leave her be. I can’t look away from her trembling body. My gut tells me not to leave her like this, but what am I supposed to do? Hold her against her will? Demand to know what happened to her?
“Please, let me get by.” She darts to the side, flinching at the smallest movement of my body as she runs up the stairs. Who has this girl so afraid?
Call it my conscience or Palmer’s influence encouraging me, I follow her. Not wanting to be caught, I stay far enough away to not be seen. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I watch her go into her room, safely tucked behind her door. Whimpers and muffled cries drift out to me, proving what I feared.
I leave the dorm, unable to scratch the image of the girl from my mind. The drive home is spent comparing her bruises to Palmer’s after her attacks.
I walk into the house and find it mostly shut down. The living room and kitchen are empty. I take the back stairs and knock on Dixon’s bedroom door as I open it.
“Everything good with Palmer?” he asks, turning in his computer chair.
“Well, she got a few good slaps in and wouldn’t let me talk,” I explain.
Dixon spins around and pecks at his keyboard. “Can you blame her?”
“I wasn’t the only one on that rooftop.” Even to me, that argument is growing old.
“Yeah, but you’re the only one she gives a flying fuck about.” He glances over his shoulder, smiles, then returns his attention to the screen.
“What are you doing, anyway?” I walk to his side and bend down to look at the screen.
“I’m hacking into the police officers’ phones, or at least trying.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Dixon has put his ass on the line for us more times than I can count. “Call it listening to my gut.”
“After you’re done with your side project, find out who’s in Room Four-C in the Rose Dorm for me, will you?”
“Yeah, sure.” He nods. “That’s Palmer’s dorm, right? Do I even want to know?”
“I ran into this girl on my way out, and something isn’t sitting right with me.”
“What girl?” Dixon asks.
“That’s what I need you to figure out. She had a pretty beat up face, spooked like a rabbit in a fox hole, so . . .”
“Linked?” He turns, eyeing me to catch my reaction.
“I hope not, because if it is, our problems aren’t even close to being over.”
“Your looming murder charges tell me our problems aren’t close to being over.” He chuckles and stands, walking me to the door. “I’ll have the girl’s name by morning, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry how much we fucked all this up.”
“We’re all in this together. I was there, too. Now, it’s time to see how forgiving Palmer Weston can actually be.” I pat him on the shoulder and head to my bedroom.
Sleep comes easy, but only because I know I’m guaranteed another day. Nothing can typically bring me down, but right now, my entire world has been hurled upside down, and keeping those I care about safe consumes my every thought.
Chapter Two
Palmer
“Open up, Palmer. I know you’re in there.”
Breaker Davenport. The bane of my existence.
I’ve been trying my hardest to ignore him, but he’s endearing as hell, not to mention persistent, which makes this difficult. Ever since Marek’s arrest and release, Breaker has been checking in on me. Every time, I manage to lock his voice out of my head. My noise-canceling headphones have helped.
“I’ll sing to you again,” he calls through the door.
I stand from the window seat and swing the door open. Breaker has his hands on the top of the doorframe. His untucked dress shirt rides up, showing off his trim stomach. Several tattoos peek out from the top of his jeans as he swings forward and back on his heels.
“Don’t you have something better to do than harass me?” I leave him out in the hall and return to solace at my window.
Ever since I blurted my theory to Dixon and Breaker, I’ve been hiding in my dorm. The truth is, the more I allow the idea to sink in, the madder I grow. If I’m right, my sister has allowed me to experience a year of fear, while she continues to breathe somewhere out in the world. If I’m wrong, then I’ll have to mourn my sister again.
If Reed were to walk through this doorway right now, I’m not certain how I would react. No response feels appropriate for what it would mean for everyone.
“Are you really going to ignore him?” He kicks the door shut and rests against it.
“Perhaps.” I hug my legs tight against my chest. Watching Marek being taken away in handcuffs made me feel helpless. Even with the overwhelming anger I had towards him, the majority of my heart and mind wanted to reach out and fix everything. I should have expected him to race over here after I’d found their camera, but nothing could have prepared me for him standing in front of me.
He’s always been my flame, and I’m the stupid moth that can’t seem to stay away.
“So, the hand holding didn’t mean shit then?” he questions. I roll my eyes, thinking about how childish he sounds, accusing me of something for holding Marek’s hand. “That must not have been you that gripped his hand the minute those cops said his name.”
; “Breaker, stop!” I plead, hoping to keep denying everything I feel right now.
“That’s not his necklace around your neck then, either?” He points to the silver chain hidden under my shirt. “I must be seeing things.”
“He asked me to hold onto it for him.” I grip at it around my neck.
“That’s what jewelry boxes are for, Palmer.” He sits on the edge of the window seat with me. “You have it around your neck because it’s been killing you to know he’s been going through hell, and there’s no way for you to fix it for him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I huff a heavy breath against the cool window and draw a circle in the fog, followed by two dots for the eyes of a sad face.
Breaker reaches forward and finishes the frown. “I know he came to see you. I also know you gave him an emotional and physical ass beating. Go see him. Figure out what has had your ass holed up in here.” He stands and walks away.
Panic settles into my chest as he opens the door.
“Have you ever felt something so deep for someone that it didn’t make any sense? Or how about when you do think about them, the good is overplayed by the horror they’ve created in your life?” I push off the seat and meet Breaker at the door.
“Actually—”
“No, I didn’t think so,” I cut him off. “Until you know what that feels like, don’t come knocking on my door giving advice.”
“We fucked up. You already know that, but we thought—”
“You thought wrong.” I grip the knob and push it farther for him to go out and leave me alone. “I can’t do this. I thought I could. It seemed so easy to let the games you four played fall to the wayside, but what it took was a few days in this room to realize it’s not that simple. We’re not that simple.”
“So, all that time we spent together, really getting to know each other, means nothing now?” He searches my face for a sign my words don’t match my actual feelings. “And here I thought I’d actually have a friendship with you. My fucking mistake.”
