by Pru Schuyler
Oh my God, I’m wearing just a slip, and my makeup is all smeared. Not that I was ready to see anyone else right now, but this is not exactly the first impression I planned on making on anyone.
“Cal!” she screams from her room.
“Sorry she’s so excited. We don’t get a lot of visitors.” He meets my eyes, sorrow showing a fine line I never noticed on his face before. “Do you mind? She’s not going to drop it.” He gestures to her room.
I reply instantly, no doubt in my mind, “Not at all.” I shift my slip to cover as much as possible and wipe away the makeup that was smeared on my face.
We walk to her door, and he slowly turns the handle.
“Don’t freak. It can kind of be a lot to take in.” His frame seems smaller, almost childlike, as he opens the door to his grandmother’s room.
Pain pierces my heart. She is hooked up to all kinds of machines, and she looks pale, like death is near. My heart aches for the boy standing in front of me. He looks at her with a world full of admiration. Her eyes are sunken, gray and purple bags outlining them.
She greets me, “Well, aren’t you beautiful?”
“You’ve still got me beat,” I playfully respond to her.
Her smile spreads ear to ear, and a small laugh escapes her lips, which immediately turns into dry, harsh coughs. But her smile never fades.
“Gran, this is Stella. Stella, this is my grandmother,” Callum introduces us.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I sit in the chair by her bed that she patted.
“You are much kinder than the girl he used to bring around. I never really liked her much at all. What was her name, Cal? Betty? Bernadette?” she asks him with her raspy voice.
Callum chuckles. “It was Becca, and you already knew that.”
She grins, obviously playing with him. “Oh, that’s right. Girl deserves to rot in hell for what she did to you.”
Wait, what? I throw my head in his direction, and my mouth falls slightly open.
His eyes are sympathetic. “That day in the hall when I had Becca cornered”—he glances at his grandmother—“that was the day I found out she’d been having an affair the entire time we were together.” His eyes drift to the floor as he painfully remembers. “The entire two years.”
Two years? They dated for two years, and she cheated on him the whole time? What a bitch. And boy, I seriously got that wrong.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” I emphasize the words, hoping he gets the underlying apology with it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He ignores my question. “Gran, we’d better get going.”
I follow suit, but I reach down and squeeze his sweet gran’s hand. I try to pull away, but she yanks me down until she can whisper to just me.
“He is the most amazing boy, and I’m glad he has you. He’s the only person in this world who gives a damn about me, and he will need someone when I’m gone.” Her scratchy voice travels all the way to my heart and soul, forever changing the image of Cal in my mind.
I pull back and nod my head. “I’ll be here.”
She smiles at me and lets me go. We head to the front door, and he stops short of the handle, turning to me.
“So, are you going to tell me why you were pretending to be drunk before?” His brow furrows again.
Dammit. Well, I kind of stopped the act once his grandma spoke up.
He isn’t the guy I thought he was. Far, far from it.
“I’m so sorry about the hallway incident. I walked in, completely misinterpreting that.” My shoulders fall, and I feel horrible about what I did.
He chuckles. “Thanks. But I shouldn’t have cornered her like that anyway. I would’ve done the same thing if I were you. But I was just so mad at her, and she just didn’t care.” His voice softens. “She laughed at me.” Pain strikes his words. He hesitates and then shakes his head. “Your turn. What are you really doing here?”
We sit down on the couch, and I fill him in on everything. On my suspect list, on how I thought it was him, everything. I leave out Brooke’s name though. She deserves that privacy.
“You thought I raped your friend?” he asks, flabbergasted.
“Well, yeah.” I laugh. “In my defense, you don’t really act like this at school.”
He shrugs. “It’s easier. If everyone expects me to be an ass, then what do I have to lose?” His eyes fall to his clasped hands.
“So, who do you think did it then? Who’s next on your list? And if you think I’m letting you walk into some guy’s house like you did here tonight, you’re really crazy.” He looks me straight in the eyes. “You just got lucky it wasn’t me. Seriously though, that’s dangerous as fuck.”
“Honestly, I thought after you, the rest wouldn’t matter. Sorry.” I shrug my shoulders, smiling through clenched teeth.
“Fair. Okay, so what’s the plan? Why isn’t Cade helping you? He is not going to like us hanging out.” Cal stiffens slightly.
“I don’t think we have to worry about that.” My heart burns.
“Why?” he asks, his eyes softening.
“We are sort of not together right now, I think.” I lock my eyes on the ground, afraid to move them.
“I’m sure it will work out. I see how he is around you. I’ve never seen him like that before. Honestly, I never really saw him with the same girl twice. Sorry, that probably isn’t helping.” He rests his hand over mine.
“Thanks.” I smile up to him.
He walks me out to my car and tells me if I need a friend tomorrow, I’ve got one. We also plan on meeting at my house after school tomorrow to figure out our next move.
Team Stella just gained a member.
Driving home, I’m overwhelmed by how the night went. I had not expected to leave his house tonight as friends. I’m drained from the last few nights’ events. I just want a hot bath and my warm bed.
My mind shifts back to Cal. Screw Becca. I should not have intervened that day. Ugh. Her image in my mind only sours more.
When I finally get upstairs, I’m pooped. I skip the bath, settling on a shower in the morning, and slide into bed. I didn’t realize that, for the first day in almost a year, I didn’t have nightmares when I was with Cade at the cabin. But he’s not here now. I close my eyes, ready to welcome the demons I know are lurking in the shadows.
EIGHTEEN
I am so over today.
First, my car didn’t start, and my mom was in court, so she didn’t answer her phone. I had to walk to Brighton Prep in the pouring rain. It wasn’t a crazy-long walk, only a couple of blocks, but that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t have an umbrella.
Luckily, I had spare gym clothes in my locker I changed into—light-blue running shorts, a gray tank top, a black zip-up hoodie, and my running shoes. But nothing could save my hair, which I’d spent an hour straightening this morning after my shower. Not even my makeup was spared; I ended up having to wipe it all off. Unless I wanted to spend the rest of the day with mascara-smeared eyes.
When I walked into my first class, my heart was on the floor. Brooke wouldn’t even look at me, and Cade only locked eyes with me for a second, anger flooding his vision. But under it, regret and pain laced through.
I decided to skip lunch and just read in the library. There was no way I could face Cade right now. Or anyone else without snapping. My appetite was long gone.
Fifth and sixth period went like a blur. I got lost in my new copy of Covet by Tracy Wolff. The teachers cut me a break today, apparently noticing my appearance.
After seventh period, I am practically running to get out of here and just go home. I throw my books and everything in my locker, next to my now-almost-dry backpack.
I slip the backpack on my shoulders and make my way down the hallway.
A hand slaps my hip, just grazing my butt.
What the fuck?
I slam my heels into the ground, turning to face whoever the hell had the audacity to mess with me today. I’m tired
, I’m drained, and now, I’m fuming.
When I whip my head around, my gaze connects with Marty. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s me and not some random girl. But oh well, his mistake, not mine.
Without hesitating, I jerk my hand back and punch him straight in the nose, drawing blood. In shock, he steps back, but I’m not done with him yet. I place my hands on his tall shoulders and knee him right where it hurts. His knees buckle, and he falls to the ground. His hands jump from his nose to his privates, as if he’s trying to decide which hurts more.
I lean down to meet his eyes and enunciate each word with enough emphasis to kill, “If you ever lay another finger on me again, I will do more than break your nose.”
His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to talk, but I’m not willing to listen. I turn on my heels and head for the door.
Cal stalks past me, aiming right for Marty. His eyes are locked on to his target; he looks like he’s ready to destroy. My mood lifts slightly. My new friend has my back. I hear a body slam into the lockers behind me, and a smile tips over my lips, which feels strange today but I welcome it anyway.
It doesn’t last long. My eyes begin to sting, and the tears burst down my cheeks. I can’t get the feeling of his hands off of me, and now, all I can feel is Austin. I go to push the front door, but it pulls before I even get to it, Cade on the other side.
Great. Got anything else for me today, universe?
I knew, eventually, I would have to face him again, but could it please not be right now?
He notices my wet red eyes, and his jaw tightens. “Stella, what’s wrong?”
His brow furrows, and he takes both of my hands in his. I yank my hands away at the touch. I can’t be touched right now.
Marty. Austin.
“Nothing. I already took care of it,” I snap at him.
I can’t handle his warm touch right now. It will destroy me. His eyes shoot behind me, and I follow his gaze—to Marty being held almost off his feet, pressed into the lockers by Cal. Cade’s face flashes between anger and confusion.
“What did he do? Did he fucking touch you?” His tone is sharp as a knife. “Wait, Jones helped you?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he storms down the hall and grabs Marty from Cal, re-slamming him into the poor lockers.
“What the fuck did you do to her?!” His powerful voice booms in the halls.
Cade lifts him from the lockers and thrusts him back into them. I see Marty’s lips move, but I can’t make out what he says.
I can’t be around Cade, and if I stay here, I’m going to have to talk to him. Thankfully, the rain stopped, so my walk home should be bearable. I cross the street and step onto the sidewalk, my pace rushing.
I only make it a few blocks when the first raindrop hits my cheek. Seriously. Like, honestly, I can’t. I’ve hit my limit. I’m so emotionally drained and exhausted.
The raindrops quicken, and soon, my clothes are soaked once again. The rain is now pounding down, puddles growing by the second. I can’t take the wetness anymore. I approach the bus stop two blocks from my house and take shelter inside. I throw my head into my hands and let the sobs break loose. Here, the rain is almost peaceful. I close my eyes and imagine myself somewhere else.
The image appears in my mind. A white beach. I’m lying on a big towel, bathing in the sun for the few moments I can before I start to burn.
No fears, no worries, no pain, no past.
No Austin, no Marty, and no Cade.
No complications, just pure bliss.
A roaring engine pulls me from my euphoria. A slamming car door follows. I pull my head up and see Cade running around his car toward me. He stops in the entryway.
“Stella, please get in the car. Let me take you home. This rain isn’t letting up anytime soon.” He hesitates, waiting for me to respond.
But I remain silent. Water drops trail down his face.
He continues, “Just so I know you’re safe. Please, Stella.”
He reaches out, and my gaze falls to his outstretched hand.
My voice breaks. “Cade,” is the only word I can get out.
I can feel the pull to him from here, but I can’t move. I can’t take any more hurt today.
“Stella, please. I just need you to be safe. If you won’t let me drive you, I will sit in my car right there.” He points. “I’ll wait until the rain lets up, and you can safely walk home. I won’t be able to leave you. Not like this.” His voice demands my eyes to meet him.
I do, and the pain in his eyes mirrors mine. I understand why he needs to keep his distance right now. If the roles were reversed, I would be the same way. But I can see he’s hurting, which only deepens my ache more. My eyes sting, and I slowly stand up, leaving his hand untouched. If I feel him right now, I won’t be able to walk away from him again.
“Fine, take me home.” I push past him and walk to his car.
I open the all-too-familiar passenger door and slip inside. Feeling the cool leather seat against my bare thighs sparks memories that cut me to the core. I close my eyes, taking in the smell. It smells like him, like home. A lump in my throat begins to rise, but I keep it down.
Cade gets in and runs his fingers through his hair. I miss doing that.
I face out the window, counting down the houses till we reach our street. He finally slows down and pulls into my driveway.
“Stella—” he starts talking, but I cut him off.
“Cade, I can’t do this. I get you need space right now, and I can’t be near you without wanting to run back to you, so no. Thanks for the ride.” I jump out of the car before I can stop myself, accidentally slamming it behind me.
Him being back in my life will only complicates things more. He would only worry and try to stop me. I need to figure this out. He can’t get involved.
I run straight inside, not stopping until my feet hit the plush carpet of my bedroom. The nice part about Mom not being home a lot is, I can cry, and no one interrupts.
I decide to start writing in my journal. I’m going to tell it everything—from Cal to Marty. I’m going to document this, just for myself.
I don’t know how this works, but here we go. Everything is in limbo—either about to fall down to hell or rise to the heavens.
I just need to find out who hurt Brooke, and hopefully, she and Cade will see why I had to do this.
I don’t know what to do without him. Everything I do reminds me of him and our time together. He is the first person I’ve been intimate with since Austin.
I love Cade, and I have to sit and watch and wait, hoping he will forgive me in the end.
I miss Brooke so much. I miss our movie nights and our hugs. I miss the warmth she brought into my life every day.
I need to get her back, and this is the only way I can prove why I took her journal.
I hate that I’m the wedge between all of us. I hate that I don’t hate myself for doing everything I’ve done. I hope she can see why once I figure this out.
She has to.
After getting my immediate thoughts out, I decide to start at the beginning and get every moment down.
I never meant to read her journal. I swear, but the first page I flipped to was THE page. I couldn’t turn back. Not after what happened to me.
I write and write and write for hours on end. Pouring every detail I can remember onto the pages.
My phone rings, pulling me from my mind.
Callum Jones appears on the screen.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, I figured it might not be the best scene if I showed up at your house today. I would say we could meet here, but my gran wouldn’t give us any alone time.” He laughs. “Want to just talk on here instead?”
“Yeah, that works.” I’m not really up to seeing people right now anyway.
“Okay, so where are we at?” Detective Cal asks.
“I don’t know, but after today, Marty topped my list.” I cringe, remembering his touch.
We sit and finalize our plan, talking for a few short hours. He tells me old stories about him and his grandmother. My heart aches, as I know she doesn’t have a lot of time left. But I’m glad he has had a person to share all of those memories with.
After we get off the phone, I am ready to go to bed early. My mind and body have felt so drained after every day recently, and it’s really taking a toll. I set my alarm for school, eat a small meal, and drift off to fight the monsters behind my eyelids.
NINETEEN
I wake up this morning, feeling refreshed and ready to take B’s rapist down once and for all. A new confidence courses through my veins.
My mom has today off, and I decide to pick her brain before school. After all, she works cases like this all the time, and maybe she will have a better idea on how to approach this and who it might be. Of course, I won’t give any actual names.
I finish getting ready quickly this morning, throwing my hair into a ponytail and adding a little light makeup.
I call downstairs, taking two steps at a time, “Mom, are you up?”
“In the living room, honey,” she calls back to me.
“Hey, can I ask you a few questions? I need help with this crime-solver homework for history,” I lie.
“Yeah, of course. What do you have?” She sits up straight, ready for the challenge.
I respond, “Okay, so this girl was raped, and we don’t know by whom.”
“No suspects at all? Did she see him? Any memorable marks or smells?” she retorts, immediately involved.
I give her the facts of the case. She never saw him, never heard him, and he smelled like he was covered in Lemon Pledge.
“Hmm.” She rubs her jaw, thinking. “Well, there are a few possibilities. He didn’t say anything to her?” she asks.
“No, not a word.”
Her eyes light up, her victory in sight. “It must be someone she’s close to then. That’s the only explanation for the overbearing smell and him not letting her see or hear him.” She pauses and smiles proudly at her quick solve. “She’d be able to identify him.”
Holy shit.
It’s someone she would recognize, maybe even by smell. Marty floods my vision, surrounded by red.
