I slide into my old beat-up truck. Some of the tissue in the backseat has holes, but it still works. It was my grandpa’s. He gave it to me when I became a volunteer firefighter. He and grandma are only using one car now.
My phone beeps with a message.
Thanks again for keeping an eye on my niece.
He’s going to be pissed. But my reasoning and my excuses sound hollow now that I’ve seen Lacey again.
I would have done it anyways. That’s what I told myself at the hospital when he talked to me after I left her room, and he practically begged me to let him know she was okay. He took me to the side, explained he knew who I was, and then said, “If you do that, I’ll help you out. I know you need some money for your grandparents’ house. Just think of it as a gift. $5,000 now, just for staying in touch with her. She trusts you. She doesn’t trust anyone else.”
I was going to say no. I would have found a way to get that money. “And I’ll help you find out who Jane Doe is. That girl who drowned. I bet she haunts your nightmares. I get it. I really do.”
And I didn’t know then how much she would mean to me. It’s not an excuse, but maybe that’s why I accepted. Plus, we didn’t know then that she’d get into this school. As we grew even closer at the hospital and talking via text, I told myself that all I was doing was updating her uncle on her. Because he was worried.
And I’d be worried too.
Shit, I’m worried now.
But it’s not right. It doesn’t feel right. And not only because clearly I sucked at protecting her on campus, but because it’s not what she’d want.
And I need to come clean.
I need to tell her, but first I need to tell her uncle.
“YOU CAN’T JUST STOP. We had an agreement.”
“Did you even listen to what I told you? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be there for her. I just won’t report to you. I’ll give you your money back and...”
“And what?” His laugh is hard. “You couldn’t even protect her today. Why am I fighting this? Just like you couldn’t save Jane Doe.”
The man can punch with words.
There’s silence for a few seconds and then he clears his throat. “If you tell her about our agreement, she might hate you.” His voice is calmer but still has an edge to it. “She might be hurt.”
“She will be hurt. But if I don’t tell her...”
“She might never find out. She might hate me too.” He sounds resigned.
“I need to tell her. And, as for the money...”
“Keep the goddamn money, kid. I just want her safe. I want them to be safe.”
“I get it.” And it seems the roles are reversed. He’s no longer enraged. He’s simply tired. And I understand. I really do.
He clears his throat. “I’ll keep an ear and an eye out for information on Jane Doe or that kid from the website. I’m sure I’m going to hear from Lacey very soon.” He hangs up before I can add another word.
I sink into my seat, check my messages, and automatically smile when I see the one Lacey sent me. You, me, and Shakespeare tomorrow afternoon?
Five works?
Sure, I’ll be at the library. I’ll save you a seat.
My hands clam up but I still reply. See you tomorrow.
I shove my phone in my back pocket and grab my laptop bag before jumping out of my truck. I need to see my business professor before going to the fire station.
I need to focus on the next step.
And I need to find the words so that she doesn’t get hurt by what I’ve done.
But deep inside, I’ve come to realize that it’s a lost battle.
She will be hurt.
CHAPTER 14 – LACEY
“You found him?” I shouldn’t sound so surprised but yet I am. “Where was he?”
“He was in Dallas. He’s denying any involvement and we can’t tie him up to the forums or your phone. But he knows we’re watching him more carefully, and we are.” He pauses. “And Detective Martinez talked to Abram and to the woman who’s been visiting him. She had spread the message that no harm should come to anyone who used to belong to the compound. We checked it all up and it’s true. I still don’t trust him, but it seems he wasn’t directly responsible for that. It could be someone who thinks he’s helping him. But Charlotte’s dad wasn’t very forthcoming and he’s still very angry.” A phone rings in the background. “Again, just know we are working on it. I will keep you updated.”
“Thank you,” I reply and even though it hasn’t been solved, I still feel calmer, not as jittery. Charlotte’s father hasn’t gotten close to me in months. Maybe he’s moving on too. He’s lost so much.
I shoot a quick text to my family to update them and one to Hunter and then I step back inside the library.
Still no room.
I was so proud for sending that text to Hunter, but when the time to meet crept closer and closer, the butterflies transformed their happy dance into a very anxious symphony. Apparently the entire student-verse is studying hard this week. And we’re not even in the mid-term season. I arrived an hour before our meeting time and there’s no spot to study, except in the quiet area, and we do need to talk so that’s not going to work.
I stroll to the Student Commons and peek behind the bookstore. I almost jump up.
Do you want to meet me behind the bookstore? I found a small table by the bay window that’s empty.
I open my books and log into the class website. I manage to answer two of the discussion questions even though I’m checking my phone every few minutes to see if he answered, telling myself that I might not hear the notification because it’s not as quiet as it is in the library.
I’ll see you there.
And there goes any sliver of concentration I may have had. I get lost in the view from the bay window. You can almost see the entire quad all the way to the administration building on one side and the main library on the other. The library building is in old red brick and there’s the mascot of our school in front of it. Some students leave candy or pizza by it, to give them luck for their exams. A group of girls all wearing Superwoman shirts are playing Frisbee on the quad. Elena said it was ultimate Frisbee. Others are sitting on benches with books in their laps. A guy is strolling while checking his phone and laughing.
My guess is he’s not getting death threats.
I sigh and glance at my phone on the table, eying it like it has become a ticking bomb instead of a way to communicate.
Getting back my messages on social media did have a pretty bad effect on my morale. I had known that people could spew whatever they had on their mind without any filters. But gosh, this was taking it to the next level. I don’t think they’d say half of the things I got to someone if they were standing in front of them and watching their reaction. Actually, even without watching their reaction. I can’t imagine that grandma of four who had “Lover of God” on her profile standing in front of me and yelling in my face, “You’re a bitch and a mistake! There’s a special fire waiting for you! You’re going to scream like your whore of a mother!”
No, really. I don’t think she would.
And she’s not the only one. A guy who seems to be in his mid-twenties wrote to let me know that I’m a murderer who probably (his words) fucked my stepdad anyways.
Another one described how they would make sure I suffer while they cut me open. Cutting me open isn’t apparently enough suffering.
There has been some kind and hopeful messages too, and those are the ones I want to hold on to.
But I still delete my profile. I can keep in touch with everyone I know via text messages or group chat.
What I can’t bring myself to delete though is my profile in the forums. So many people still have questions about Abram and what he presented as his teachings. So many people are still looking for loved ones. So many people want to understand how one man can influence so many others.
And then I hear his laugh. And my mind cross-wires and my stomach flips in t
he most delicious way. He’s looking straight at me as he talks to another guy, gesturing to my table before taking long, purposeful strides toward me. He’s wearing his I’m a volunteer firefighter, what’s your superpower? shirt. At the hospital he told me his grandparents got it for him for his last birthday. It’s snug around his shoulders, and his arms and his jeans are the perfect amount of tight without being too tight. I never noticed jeans on other guys. Maybe because most were wearing linen pants at the compound. No matter the reason, I can’t stop staring at his thighs now.
But then he runs his hand in his hair and I know he’s slightly anxious too.
I narrow my eyes. Why is he anxious?
And because I can’t help myself, I start mumbling. “If you need to be somewhere else, we could meet later. Or I could try to do something on my side again and you could look it over or maybe you were on duty today? Is that something you had to do? Or is it something you could be doing? I read about the on-campus firefighter program. Why aren’t you doing that instead of the bunk in the city volunteer station? I have a lot of questions.”
He smiles and pulls the chair next to me, leaning closer. “You do have a lot of questions,” he drawls, and his voice becomes huskier. “I’ll answer anything you want me to. I’ll do everything you want me to, especially if you look at me this way.”
“What way?” I manage to breathe out.
Our eyes lock. “This way. The same way I look at you. Like I can’t get enough. Like I want to...” He takes a deep breath without finishing his sentence and slightly pulls away, muttering something about public places. Really, Hunter? I giggle and his smile widens. “I definitely want to meet now. And later. Now and later. Whenever, really. I’m not in the on-campus firefighter program because of what happened.” He frowns for only a split second, before taking a deep breath. “But I’m happy there in the volunteer station. It’s a great opportunity and the guys I work with are amazing. It’s tough to be away from campus sometimes, but I can always crash at Branson and Rafael’s. They were my fraternity brothers, and they’ve been there for me through it all.” He pauses and rubs that spot on his shoulder again. “There’s also something I need to tell you.” And there’s a seriousness in his tone that lets me know he means it, but also that it means a lot for him to say that.
Warmth unfolds in my chest. And my heart thunders.
“What do you need to tell me?” I rummage through my bag to find the books for the class, needing to busy my hands with something. “Did you read all that material before?” I continue, trying to calm myself because in my mind, what he has to tell me can either break my heart or be simply wonderful. Maybe he wants to tell me he can’t stop thinking about me. Maybe he wants to tell me he’s falling for me. Maybe I am starring in my own romance novel.
He clears his throat, glances around, and leans forward. Like he’s my own personal magnet, I lean forward as well. His eyes are too serious and his jaw is clenched. That’s not good.
I brace myself.
“Your uncle and I...”
“My uncle? Why are you talking about my uncle?” I interrupt him.
He winces. “At the hospital. He asked me to keep an eye on you in exchange for money and for helping me investigate Jane Doe and what was going on at school. I would have done it anyway. I wanted to see you and spend time with you. He saw that at the hospital and that’s why he asked me.”
I lean back. My heart clenches and I try to swallow past the lump that just declared residence in my throat.
I was an obligation.
Just an obligation.
Of course. What was I thinking? What was I daydreaming about again?
I’m not going to cry. I am not going to cry. I blink rapidly.
He’s still talking, still looking like he wants to convince me of something. But there’s an emptiness inside of me. Another piece of the hope I held on to so tightly shatters.
I’m such an idiot.
“Lacey?”
“Fine. Okay. Whatever.” I want to get up and leave but I’m worried my legs won’t carry me. I’m worried about making yet another scene.
“You have to listen to me. I stopped. I called him and I said I was not going to do it anymore. I was going to tell you. I can’t continue.”
Of course not. Apparently even for money, spending time with me is just too much of a chore.
“I want to spend time with you but for me. Just for me. Without your uncle or anything coming between us.”
His words don’t seem to register. And I’m not sure I believe him anyway. Maybe another strategy to watch me, to save me.
“I’m not one of your 911 calls. And I certainly don’t need babysitting.” My tone is biting even though there’s this emptiness inside.
He sighs. “I’m not babysitting you.”
“You can’t save me. I’m not Jane Doe. I can’t replace her in your eyes as the person you can save. It wasn’t your fault.” I’m not sure he heard the last words because his jaw that I thought was clenched before is about to break, and his eyes narrow. I’m not sure how we got into this, how I went from butterflies to this feeling of dread.
“This is not what I’m doing.”
I shrug. “I’m not sure. All I know is I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
And I don’t. Maybe I should just drop out. Maybe I should just go live with my uncle and forget everything. He’ll clearly be less worried and I wouldn’t feel this way.
Like in a way I’m still on that compound, waiting for Abram to find another way to crush my dreams.
“I’m sorry, Lace. You have to believe me, I’m so sorry. I needed the money. My grandparents’ house—”
“Wait. You weren’t there the first two weeks. I would have seen you. You said you weren’t there. How...how did this even work? It’s a remote position?”
He glances away and his foot starts tapping.
“What?”
“I asked Rafael to check in on you.”
“You asked...someone I’ve met once, I think, to check on me? So more people were into this? Elena maybe too?” I almost choke on the words.
“No, no. No, no, no.” He stops tapping and his gaze locks with mine. “I swear. I didn’t think. I didn’t realize what it would mean. And then when I saw you again yesterday, I realized I couldn’t do it. Not without you knowing. I know you. I know you like I’ve never known anybody. Those weeks at the hospital. And the texting afterwards. I like you, Lacey. I really like you.”
Rafael and Branson clear their throats. I didn’t hear them or see them walking our way. They stare at us. Branson’s very blue eyes dance between me and Hunter while Rafael lifts an eyebrow. “Hey guys,” he says but it sounds like a question. I don’t know if they heard. And I don’t want to know. I want to get out of here. Or I simply want the Earth to open and swallow me whole. He asked Rafael to look after me. When Elena introduced me to Rafael and Branson, I thought how nice they both seemed, and I thought how I might fit right in.
But nope, Rafael looked after me. Like a child needing help. Someone was watching my movements.
I stand up. “I have to go.”
“Lace,” Hunter says but my look must convey how much I need him to be quiet right now because he only adds, “I’ll call you. And I’ll see you tomorrow and on Friday at the firehouse?”
I don’t answer. I don’t nod.
And for once I manage a somewhat grateful exit.
Even if it feels I left pieces of my heart behind.
CHAPTER 15 – HUNTER
“You told her?” Branson sounds even more surprised than he looks. When they first arrived at our table, I saw the way Branson had smiled, as if he knew I was a goner, and he found that pretty hilarious. And with the way they jumped on the seats after Lacey left, they seemed surprised by her sudden departure.
“Yep, I did. I didn’t have a choice. Not if I wanted...” I slam my fist on the table. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
Branson leans back. “But come on, you’re Hunter Harrington. You don’t quit. You never do. You always find a way to bounce back. You’ll find a way there too.” He sounds so convinced. I’m not. I’m not convinced at all.
Rafael frowns. He’s seen me fuck up more than anybody else.
We’ve been friends for years, decades. We’re the type of friends who went to camps together. Our parents were friends, even if my dad used to make fun of his parents for being careful in the way they handled their money and even...I hate remembering that...even when my dad was responsible for his grandparents losing a good chunk of their money, he didn’t blame me for it. Yes, he punched me. Once. But he apologized for it right after. He had just seen his grandma cry, and I’d have done the same if I had seen my grandma shed tears over an asshole we had trusted. Especially if I hadn’t known if he was in the know. We argued sometimes. But we always had each other’s backs.
“You really told her everything?”
“What do you mean?” I bite out. I’m tired. Tired of explaining myself. Tired of being tethered to my past. And to a past that I had nothing to do with. I am not my father. I wouldn’t fuck up everything because I thought having one more car was going to solve the emptiness inside of me.
I am going to save people.
I am going to go to the fire. Literally.
“It’s just that...” He sighs loudly and shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that. Is she aware of everything?”
“Yes, I told her everything.” And then, because I guess there’s still a bit of asshole in me, maybe there’s a bit of assholery in everyone—especially with the people closest to you, I say to him, “It’s not like you’re one to talk. I don’t see you going back home and fighting for the one you left behind.”
Rafael doesn’t answer at first. His eyes don’t widen and he doesn’t make a move my way. He waits me out. Because he knows what’s going to come next.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. Because I am. It was a cheap shot. But, right away, he had to go and remind me that I haven’t told the whole truth to Lacey, and so he’s right to question if I did now. My dad lied to so many people. If only he had told the truth. If only he had the balls to realize his mistakes earlier. “I fucked up,” I say louder.
Trust Me, Trust Me Not (Gavert City Book 3) Page 10
