Glass Heart Broken: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Glass Heart Academy Book 2)

by Lindsey Iler

  I spin, jerking him off me, grab him by the lapels of his sports jacket, and force him backwards into a lamp pole.

  “This nonsense is bloody dorms and attacks on innocent girls.” Anger courses through me.

  “Hmm, that’s right.” His eyes narrow, and he chuckles. “You’ve gotten cozy with the other Weston sister, haven’t you?” He twists my wrists to release my hold, then runs his palms over the front of his coat.

  Henry even mentioning Palmer has me on high alert. I’m cautious with her, especially after the attacks and what we’ve done to her.

  “What makes you think I was talking about her?” I move away from him, afraid of what I’ll do if he’s within close range.

  “Like I said, I have a friend at the department.” His jaw ticks as he looks at our surroundings. “Let’s just say he’s been quite talkative lately.”

  “Palmer and I have grown close, yes, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “Isn’t that kind of fucked up to be hooking up with your dead girlfriend’s sister? Then again, you never were a saint.”

  “What I do and who I do it with are none of your damn business. Palmer is none of your business. Not even a blip on your radar. Do you understand me?” It’s a threat I’m more than happy to put weight behind, as long as Palmer is untouched by him.

  “Reed sure as shit meant something to all of you. If you think you’re the first relationship of that kind on this campus, then you’re dead wrong. It’s practically a rite of passage to have a sweet thing to toss around a group of guys. Does Palmer know what her fate is?”

  Who does this mother fucker think he is? Henry’s concern for Palmer has every nerve in my body on high alert.

  If he keeps it up, I’ll add an assault charge to the two counts of murder waiting for me. No one knows what our relationships meant except the five of us. It wasn’t about the sex. We didn’t treat Reed like a disposable rag to come inside of.

  “I can see I’m upsetting you,” Henry says, holding up his hands between us. “I came here to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

  I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, but his phone rings, and he lifts a finger to silence me.

  “What?” Henry barks into his phone, putting distance between us without being too obvious. It’s not lost on me how his voice lowers to a mere whisper. “No, I said for you to handle it. I don’t care how it’s done, but get it done.” He checks on me over his shoulder before turning away again. “Deck, what did I say? Call me when it’s done.”

  Henry tucks his phone into his coat pocket, spinning on his expensive loafers.

  “Trouble in paradise?” I nod my chin at him.

  “Business can be ugly,” he says. “Now, please do me a favor and give your mom a free pass. She’s trying here, Marek.”

  “Why are you so concerned? You fucking my mom, trying to solidify that spot as my daddy?”

  “Listen to me, you little shit.” He grabs me by the shirt, pushing me against the same lamp post I had him against moments ago. His other hand wraps around my neck. “You aren’t the only one who lost someone that day. We all did.”

  “That’s fucking rich coming from your mouth,” I croak through the hold on my throat. “Still partaking in your extra-curricular activities?” I brush my finger under my nose and sniff.

  I don’t fight him, though. I allow him to cut off my airway as his strong fingers tighten.

  “Let go of him,” a sweet voice says, awakening me before my eyes fully shut. A blurred silhouette of Palmer grabs Henry’s arm and yanks him off me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She gawks up at him while trying to attend to me. “You could have killed him.”

  “You must be Palmer.” Henry reaches his hand for hers. “I’m Henry Lexington.”

  “I know who you are,” she spits. “Are you okay?” Her eyes dart to me, and she ignores a man who doesn’t care for being ignored. She’s made a big mistake and doesn’t even know it. Men like Henry love a challenge, but they love respect more. My girl has put a target on her back simply by not bending at the knee in front of him.

  “My reputation precedes me, I see.” Henry lowers his hand and tucks it into his pocket. “As does yours, Miss Weston. And, Marek?”

  “What, Henry?” I draw Palmer into my side, protectively.

  “Nothing we have belongs to us. You’d be smart to remember that.”

  I stride forward. If he wants a war, he’ll have a mother fucking war.

  Her dainty hand on my chest freezes me in place.

  “He’s not worth it, Marek. Let’s go.”

  Sometimes I forget this girl knows the parts of me I’ve kept hidden from the rest of the world. My history isn’t a secret to her, and I’m still surprised how comforting it is not to be alone.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask, grabbing her hand and heading to the English building. We are late to first period, not that it truly matters with Byron as our teacher. We’ll be conveniently marked present.

  “You weren’t in class, so—”

  “I don’t need a babysitter, Palmer.” I’m an asshole. Remembering Palmer wrapped around my dick yesterday has my mind going haywire. We never talked any further than a few questions. Moving forward will be impossible if we don’t get to the bottom of everything. No secrets. No lies.

  “Never said you did.” She recoils away from me.

  “So, you thought you’d come looking for me? What if you found me in a position you wouldn’t want to see me in?”

  “And what position would that be, Marek?” She laughs.

  “Balls deep in a freshman.” Now, I’m just being cruel.

  “That’s real cute, Marek, but you and I both know there’s only one pussy you want to be in, and I can promise you it isn’t attached to a thirsty-ass freshman.”

  “Is that jealousy I hear?” I stop in front of her. She watches my hand move, not stopping me when I reach under her skirt and run my finger over the front of her panties. “Does the thought of me being with someone else make you angry?”

  “You can do whatever you want. Remember, I’m not your babysitter.”

  “Baby, you can admit it.” Jerking her panties to the side, I explore her further. She remains unmoving, allowing me. If it wasn’t for the tiny glint of excitement in her eyes, I wouldn’t know my girl was still alive in there.

  “I won’t do such a thing.”

  “Are you sure it won’t kill you to see me touching another girl like this, feeling every inch of her perfect pussy at the end of my fingertips?” I push forward, and she sucks in a long, strangled breath as I do something I’ve done plenty of times, but this time, she’s trying to resist me.

  “Marek.” She hisses my name.

  “Just say it, and I’ll stop.”

  With the smallest shift of her feet, she opens wider for me. Her tongue runs the length of her bottom lip. She’s fighting the urge to show any enjoyment.

  “The thing is, Palmer, you don’t need to tell me how jealous it makes you to even think of another girl wrapped around my dick, because I feel it.” I slide my finger out of her, earning a sexy as sin whimper. Her eyes track my movement as I bring it to my mouth. “And taste it.”

  Instead of heading to class, I go in the opposite direction, leaving Palmer in the middle of the sidewalk. Wet, frustrated, and angry.

  “Go fuck yourself, Hawthorne.”

  “Trust me, I do every night. Take a guess whose body I imagine sliding up and down my cock when I do?” I yell without turning to look at her. I imagine I’d see bewilderment on her face. One thing I’ve always been good at is catching Palmer off guard.

  “You’re going the wrong way.” She races after me, jerking on my arm.

  I spin, bringing my chest against hers. Our eyes lock as she gazes up at me.

  “I’m going to go fuck myself, Weston, per your instructions.” A strand of hair has escaped her braid, and I tuck it behind her ear, bending over to whisper, �
��I can thank that hot cunt of yours when I fail English.”

  The grin on Palmer’s face is worth missing first period. I wonder if Byron will accept Major case of blue balls as an excuse not to come to class.

  ******

  “Do you have a moment?” Damien appears in front of me so suddenly, I almost trip over my feet.

  The guy’s a fucking magician. Everything about him is meant to intimidate, and yet, he can sneak up on me without even trying. His intimidation doesn’t come from his size but in the way he carries himself. The darkness looming beyond his eyes tells a story. He’s seen things, which tells me he isn’t someone I want to mess with.

  Wherever Dixon and Byron found this guy, he’s the right man for the job, delivering full reports to us at the end of every day. Nothing has set off any alarms, and Palmer has seemed to relax into the idea of him being around.

  “Shouldn’t you be outside the arts building instead of the cafeteria? Palmer has photography.” I’m on the way to my next class, but now I’m wondering if I should head in the other direction.

  Damien jogs to catch up with me. “Yes, sir, and she’s heading that way, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What’s so important that you aren’t there right now?” I stop, staring in the eyes of Palmer’s personal bodyguard.

  “It’s Dillon Johnson, sir.” He slows, and his body language shifts, his toes pointing towards the arts building. “I found him, for a lack of better words, sniffing around Palmer.”

  “What do you mean sniffing around Palmer?” Without hesitating, I take the pathway leading to that set of buildings, not bothering to hear his explanation. There’s no reason to need one. If Dillon is around Palmer after she assaulted him in the cafeteria, he’s there to cause her trouble.

  The grounds are quiet, with everyone tucked in the classrooms, listening to lectures, and pretending to give a shit about what the teacher is attempting to educate them about. When campus is like this, it reminds me of the version they sell in the pamphlets for future students.

  If they only knew the truth.

  This campus breeds monsters who aren’t afraid of anything.

  When I turn the corner, I find Palmer pinned against the brick wall outside the art building. Dillon’s face is inches from hers. She angles away from him, catching my eyes with hers.

  “Aren’t you going to do something?” Damien asks.

  “In a minute.” I move to the shadows, hidden from Dillon but visible to Palmer.

  Dillon whispers to Palmer, his lips painfully close to her ear. She jerks her head, missing his nose by a hair. Like a fucking idiot, he rears back and slams his palm into the brick. Thankfully, football season is over, or else this asshole wouldn’t be able throw a decent spiral after that stupid move.

  “Tell me what you know!” Dillon shouts. His voice bounces off the brick walls that seclude them.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Palmer snarls, her voice shaky with uncertainty. Bright red anger clouds my vision.

  “Why am I not surprised that Hawthorne’s bitch is dumb enough to—”

  I snap. Before he can finish that sentence, I have him by the back of his sports coat, wrenching him away from Palmer. My hand wraps around his neck, and I use the leverage to slam him against the wall.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I bellow in his face.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Dillon screeches. “Oh, that’s right. You’re the boy who let his baby sister drown before she could celebrate her fifth birthday.”

  Blind rage is something I’ve experienced a handful of times in my short life, but nothing like right now. A bright white light makes everything shine, and the blood pumps behind my ear drums like my least favorite song.

  “What did you just say?” I prepare to slam my fist against his cheek.

  Palmer wedges between us, raises her knee, and crushes his balls. He falls over, wheezing in pain and clutching himself.

  “You’re a fucking asshole!” she screams at him.

  Dillon shuffles to his feet. My instinct is to barrel forward and connect my fist with his jawbone, to knock him on his ass where he belongs, but I manage to resist. I’m always down for a good fight. This would be too easy.

  “And you’re going to be another dead girl, just like your sister,” he spits, dusting off his perfectly pressed uniform. The horrified look on his face tells me everything I need to know. This elitist prick actually believes he’s being wronged here.

  “Listen to me, whatever business you have with Palmer is done.” I shove him, forcing him against the brick wall again. “If I so much as see you breathing the same air as her, I will personally make it my mission to erase you.”

  “This isn’t over, Hawthorne.” He jabs his finger in my face, and I slap it away.

  “You’ve always been a bitch, Johnson.” I jerk my chin at him, warning him, as I move into him. “Cornering a girl, trying to threaten her for whatever the fuck you’re up to, makes you a low-rent, piece of shit.”

  “I have more money than your piss-poor family could ever dream about.” His eyes dart up and down, treating me like he does everyone he believes is beneath him.

  He comes at me, and I shove him. His head hits the brick.

  “Money doesn’t mean shit to me.”

  I hold my hand out to Palmer, and her soft one lands in mine. Suddenly, I can breathe. I feel her body shift to where we’ve left Dillon. For the next five minutes, I drag Palmer through campus. Her huffing and puffing barely make it through the noise of rage pumping through my veins. Words are impossible to understand through my urgency. Whatever she wants to yell at me about, she can do it in the passenger seat.

  I open the door and guide her inside like she’s incapable of doing it herself. From the look on her face, I’d say she is as irritated with me as I am with her right now. I shut the door and get behind the wheel. To whisk Palmer off to my glass castle again after the other day is a risk, but right now, I don’t have any other option.

  “Marek, I have to get to class,” she argues.

  “We’re going to miss the rest of the day, Palmer.” I drive out of the main parking lot and head up the hill.

  My mind runs a million miles a minute. How did Palmer find herself in that position? Even more important, though, how the hell did Dillon know about my sister? Thinking about Penelope isn’t the easiest thing for me. To have her death thrown in my face is like a thousand knives slicing at my chest. There’s no escaping the pain. It’s there, ever living inside of me.

  “Will you chill out?” Palmer shouts, slamming the front door behind us.

  Pacing in the entryway is like my own version of therapy, releasing the stress this day has brought on.

  “Dillon mentioning my sister? Palmer, I’ve never felt more ashamed in my life.”

  “Her death wasn’t your fault.” She grabs me by the wrist, stopping my anger-fueled assault on the tile floor. “Will you stop, please?”

  “But her survival, that was on me. I could have saved her.”

  “That’s a lot to carry on your shoulders. Too much for one person to live with.”

  “If I hadn’t been so focused on my own shit, spent some time with my sister, she wouldn’t have been alone out there.”

  “You were eight years old, Marek. Eight. Years. Old.” Her eyes fill with unwanted sympathy. “I can’t imagine the guilt you feel for what happened to her innocent life, but you need to learn to let it go.”

  “I don’t know how.” With those four words from my mouth, everything about her softens. Her walls crumble right in front of me, and she yanks me forward by the hem of my shirt.

  “Look at me,” she demands, but my eyes stay on our feet. “Marek Hawthorne, look at me.”

  “Nothing you say is going to help.”

  “Well, at least let me try. I’m going to need you to look me in the eyes when I say this.”

  Giving in, I lift my chin and gaze into the
eyes of a girl who’s more complicated and complex than I ever imagined she would be. She’s selfless in ways I’ll never understand, and headstrong in ways that should be illegal.

  “You’re my own personal monster, Marek”— she runs her fingers through the hair around my ear— “but life isn’t a fairy tale. Prince Charming isn’t coming to rescue me from my ivory tower. I know that now. Sometimes the monster becomes worthy of the princess. Sometimes the monster can look within himself and find a little shred of humanity that he’s willing to reveal to the world, even if it’s only for the princess.”

  “Do you think it’s inside me, that shred of humanity you’re talking about?” That’s my biggest fear. I’ve allowed my sister’s death to haunt me, and it isn’t until right now, with Palmer telling me it’s okay to own my past, but not be defined by it, that I wonder if I can let it go.

  “It’s in there, buried deep to keep your glass heart protected.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before someone comes along and exposes the cracks,” I recite her exact words.

  Palmer’s hand slips down until it’s covering my heart. “It’s okay to be human, Marek. The world won’t cease to exist if you do.”

  “Baby, there isn’t anything human about me.”

  “I guess we’ll see then, because I think there is.”

  “There’s nothing human about the things I wanted to do to Dillon today,” I express, grabbing her hand and leading her into the living room. I sit and pat the couch next to me. “We need to talk about whatever that was.”

  “I don’t know what it was,” she says, wringing her hands together as she drops beside me. “Since Reed disappeared, it’s like I’m only getting half-truths with a lot of lies sprinkled in there.”

  “What happened before I showed up?”

  “I was walking into the building and all of a sudden, an arm wrapped around my waist and hoisted me backwards.” She shakes her head, showing me exactly how she felt in that moment. “He pinned me against the wall and threatened that if I didn’t stay quiet, things wouldn’t end well for me. I was trying to ask him what he was talking about when you showed up.”