“No!” My cheeks burned even brighter.
“Okay.” A grin appeared on his lips. “So what’s the deal?”
Chewing on my pinkie nail, I shrugged. “Things aren’t the same between us. So I’d decided to call things off. When I gave him back the necklace, I remembered…something that had happened.”
His brows inched up his forehead.
I sighed. “He took…pictures.”
Scott scrunched up his face, as if he was about to vomit on me. “Those pictures…”
There went any hope that he hadn’t seen them or heard about them. I dropped my head on the counter and sighed. “It’s so embarrassing. I had no idea! I mean, I didn’t know he’d taken them at all, and supposedly Trey found them and sent them, but still.”
Scott cursed. “You didn’t know he took them?”
“No,” I moaned.
Another explosive curse caused me to jump a little. “I asked you about those pictures, Sam, because I was pissed. You acted like it was no big deal. If I’d known, I would’ve knocked him the hell out a lot sooner.”
I raised my arms helplessly, keeping my face planted on the counter. “Yeah, well, apparently I got over it.”
Several seconds passed before he spoke. “I think I’m going to bust his other eye.”
As much as that made me all warm and fuzzy inside, I lifted my head. “You can’t. Just leave him alone. It’s over with—we’re over.” I covered my face with my hands. “Man, how can I show my face?”
“Sam, that happened, like, seven months ago.”
“So? I just remembered it.” I groaned again. “This is horrible.”
“Everyone has forgotten about it, considering everything else,” he said gently.
“Yeah, because they think I killed Cassie or I’m crazy.” I dropped my hands. Scott watched me, appearing to be caught between amusement and sympathy. I scowled at him and then saw how badly his knuckles were swelling under the bag. “Does it hurt?”
He shrugged. “Worth it.”
“Thank you,” I said, shifting on the stool. “I know I was a shitty sister—”
“Stop.” He waved his uninjured hand, staring at the bag. “Back to the whole everyone-thinking-you-killed-Cassie thing. Julie told me what the girls were saying at the party today. You know they’re just being dumb. No one thinks that.”
I gave him a bland look. He changed the subject to what Carson and I had done when we left the barn. When I told him about going up to the cliff to see if it would spark my memory, he looked as if he wanted to knock the bag of peas upside my head.
“The cliff is dangerous,” he grumbled, standing. Taking the bag to the trash can, he turned back. “You shouldn’t be up there.”
I frowned. “Why not? It might help me remember.”
He threw the peas away and slowly opened his fist. “Why do you need to remember? It’s not going to change anything. Cassie will still be dead.”
“I know that,” I said, unsure why he was so against it. “But I need to know what happened. It probably wasn’t an accident, and she deserves justice.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Cassie deserved a lot of things.”
My mouth dropped open. “Scott! That’s not cool.”
He returned the look I gave him earlier. “You don’t remember her. You have no clue how messed up she was. And you were fine until you started hanging out with her. Sorry if I’m not all torn up.” He paused, exhaling roughly. “Okay, that wasn’t right.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry, Cassie, wherever you are.”
I slid off the stool. “I need to know the truth. It’s, like, closure. I can’t move on until then.”
His eyes met mine for a few seconds, and then he raised his brows, not in a mocking way but more out of concern. “What if the truth isn’t to your liking, Sam? What if it only makes everything worse?”
That was the million-dollar question. The feeling of having done something wrong resurfaced, wrapping itself around my insides, tightening until I was sure I was going to have some epic ulcers soon.
“Then I’ll have to deal with it,” I said finally, sitting back down. “But I need to know. Good or bad.”
Scott looked away, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. I could tell this conversation upset him, and I knew he was worried that all my poking around would eventually stir up something that I wouldn’t be able to deal with. I sought to change the subject.
“So Dad’s not home?” I asked, and he shook his head. “He’s never really home, is he?”
“He’s probably at the office. He stays there a lot.” He dropped into the seat next to me and rested his chin on his good hand. “Comes home late.”
“And Mom is always in bed?” I twisted toward him.
“She’s pretty much hiding in her bedroom, but yes.”
“Has it always been like this?”
Scott’s brows rose as he seemed to think the question over. “For the last five or so years it has been. They barely even speak to each other or stay in the same room longer than a few minutes.”
I lowered my gaze. “Why are they still together?”
“You want a serious answer to that?” When I nodded, he laughed under his breath. “Before this happened to you, you knew why.”
“I did?”
He nodded. “Mom’s not going to divorce Dad because of what people would say, unless staying married to him was worse somehow. Dad knows that, and he’ll never leave Mom, because, well, she owns him.”
I frowned. “Owns him?”
“He has nothing without Mom.” He laughed, but it was dry. “All our money is on her side, and I’m sure there was a nasty little prenup that means she gets everything if they divorce and he keeps what he had when he entered the marriage, which wasn’t much.”
“But Dad works.” I shook my head. “Even if they divorced, he’d have all the money from that.”
Scott smirked. “You’re forgetting one important little factoid about that. Dad works for Mom’s side of the family. If they get a divorce he’ll be out, and our grandfather has enough pull to make it very difficult for him to get another job at that kind of level in a funding firm.”
“Damn,” I whispered.
“Yep. I’d rather be homeless and living in a box if I were him, but Dad likes his lifestyle. He didn’t give a shit about what other people thought when we were younger, but now…he knows Mom does, so he’ll put up with anything to keep her.”
I sat back. “Oh.”
After that, Scott and I parted ways. I went back upstairs and closed the door behind me. Exhausted from everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, I just wanted to sleep. My brain was still slowly turning over all that I’d learned, and even with the memory of the pictures resurfacing, I knew there was still more to my relationship with Del. That there had to be a good reason why I’d stayed with him after something like that. I could think of a few people who could give me brutal insight on our relationship, but outside of them, those who’d actually talk to me about it was limited.
Had Del and I been on the same path as our parents? Marrying because it was expected and for money? That didn’t make sense, because both of us would have access to our own funds.
I headed into the bathroom and picked up my toothbrush, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. Dark smudges had blossomed under my eyes. As I spurted a dab of toothpaste on the toothbrush, I looked away for a second, maybe two.
Cassie stared back at me, with mirroring shadows under her eyes.
Gasping, I jerked back. The darkness under her eyes spread across otherwise flawless cheeks, following the path of her veins, as if someone had injected her with ink. I couldn’t look away as she opened her mouth in a silent scream that raised the tiny hairs all over my body.
Not real. This can’t be real. I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to ten, and then reopened them. The image in the mirror was my own.
Breathing heavily, I planted my hands on the sink and dippe
d my head, dizzy and nauseated. Several moments passed before I felt sure I wasn’t going to vomit.
I tossed the toothbrush into the basin and left the bathroom, shaken to the core. Pulling back the covers, I started to climb in when I saw the edge of something yellow sticking out from underneath the music box on the nightstand.
Heart tumbling over itself, I sat down and reached over, picking up the box. A yellow piece of paper folded into a triangle stared back at me. A huge part of me wanted to put the box back down and cover it completely.
Instead, with my breath caught in my chest, I picked up the note and then set the music box down. My fingers were numb as I unfolded it, revealing the childish scribble.
Don’t let him know you remember anything.
Don’t let him know you remember anything?
Let who know? The question kept me up most of the night even though I was exhausted. And there was still a bigger question—who was leaving the notes and why?
When morning came, I could barely pull myself out of bed and take a shower. The ride to school with Carson and Scott was quiet, but I figured that wouldn’t last long.
And I was right.
Whispers and long looks greeted me the moment I stepped through the double doors. News of my accident and subsequent barn-party fail had reached those who hadn’t been at the party. Everyone seemed to know about the guy in the backseat who couldn’t have possibly been there.
When I headed to my locker, I spotted Del at the end of the hall. He looked as if he’d gone toe-to-toe with a professional boxer and lost.
His entire left eye was swollen shut, the skin covered with a purplish-blue bruise that looked painful. He was getting a lot of stares, too.
Keeping my head down, I quickly grabbed my morning books and hurried in the opposite direction.
I didn’t make it.
“Sammy,” Del called out, not too far behind me.
With my heart in my throat, I kept walking. The last thing I needed was a scene. People had enough reasons to talk about me.
“Damn it,” he grunted, catching up to me by the stairwell. Grabbing my arm, he pulled me to a stop. “Are you just going to ignore me?”
I turned around, sucking in a sharp breath. Up close, the black eye was worse, but there was something glinting in his one good eye. Something that chilled my insides, made me want to run.
“We need to talk,” he said, voice low.
I shook my head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He leaned in, his head inches from mine. There was a minty scent on his breath. “You at least owe me a chance to explain, especially after what your brother did.”
Any feelings of dread I had were quickly replaced by irritation, and I tore my arm free, not caring what people thought. I owed him? “I don’t owe you anything, Del.”
He exhaled. “I know you’re mad, and I get that, but all I want to do is talk to you. You can’t just break up with me and have that be it. You don’t get to make a call like that without giving me the chance to fix it.”
My mouth gaped as I took a step back, hitting the edge of a glass case full of plaques and metals. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe Scott shouldn’t have hit you, but this is my choice. I don’t need your permission.”
His jaw popped out. “That’s not what I meant. I know you don’t need my permission. You’re twisting what I’m saying.”
Across from us, a few kids had their phones out, texting away. My heart sank a little, knowing that by the beginning of first period, this would be all over the damn school. “Del, I don’t want to talk about this. Maybe later—”
“Later? You promise?” He grabbed ahold of my hand again. “Tell me you promise, and I’ll believe you. Okay? Because out of everyone, I have your back, Sammy. You just don’t realize that.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The desperation he threw off covered my skin like a slimy, dirty substance. Why was he so frantic to salvage this relationship? It wasn’t great before, and it sure as hell wasn’t something worth fighting for now that I’d lost my memories.
“Is everything okay here?” Mrs. Messer’s voice came out of nowhere. “Samantha?”
Del dropped my hand, and I turned, swallowing. “Yeah, everything is fine.”
Her dark eyes settled on him. “And you?”
He nodded, taking a step back. “Everything is great.”
“Then I suggest you get to class,” she responded coolly.
With him facing me, Del’s one-sided smile looked wrong with the black eye. “Later.”
I said nothing as he pivoted and stalked off. The icky feeling was still coating my skin, seeping through. Clenching the strap on my bag, I shuddered.
“Is everything really okay, Samantha?” Mrs. Messer asked softly, coming to stop beside me.
Nodding, I worked to keep my voice level. “Yes. We were just talking.”
Her gaze didn’t miss anything. “Is the condition of his face something I should be concerned about?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I have to go.”
Mrs. Messer nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
There was no escaping our meetings, but it was better than the alternative—an honest-to-God real psychiatrist. Hurrying to homeroom, I slid into my seat seconds before the bell rang. The first two classes weren’t bad. It was the next class, English, that I was dreading.
Veronica was waiting for me when I walked in and headed for where I’d been sitting since I returned to school. She stuck out one thin arm, blocking me. “You can’t sit here.”
For a moment I entertained the idea of grabbing her by her overprocessed hair and dragging her to the floor. “Why?” I demanded.
She twisted her lips into a frigid smile that was oddly familiar. Candy snickered from her seat. “Mr. Dase?” Candy raised her voice, waving her arm back and forth. “Mr. Dase?”
The teacher looked up from the stack of paper on his desk and let out a loud sigh. “Yes, Candy?”
“Can you make Sammy sit somewhere else?” she implored. “We don’t feel comfortable sitting here with her.”
Fire scorched my cheeks as a dozen or so faces turned to me. One stood out the most—Goth Boy. I expected him to look pleased that I was getting paid back for the years of abuse I’d put him through. Instead, his almond-shaped eyes just looked sad behind the spikes of black hair.
Mr. Dase raised his brows. “Why don’t you feel comfortable, Candy?”
“It’s okay,” I said, hating the way my voice trembled as I headed to an open seat in the back. “I can sit back here.”
Satisfied with the resolution, he went back to shuffling his papers, but out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Veronica shoot Candy a pointed look.
“Mr. Dase,” Candy whined, waving her arm again.
Taking my seat, I gripped the edges of my desk.
“Yes?” Mr. Dase sighed.
Candy sat up straight, pushing her chest out and arching her back. “I don’t like that she’s sitting behind me.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “You do know she was the last person to see Cassie alive, right?”
My knuckles ached from how tight my grip was on the desk. Okay. That was it. There was a good chance I would hurt one or both of them.
Our teacher’s expression remained bland. “I am sure you’re perfectly safe where you are.”
He then moved on to roll call, and that quieted Candy down, but the damage was already done. Stewing with anger and embarrassment, I had no idea what was covered in class. When the bell rang, I had to force myself to walk out of the class without confronting them. Their laughter followed me through most of my classes.
In bio, I figured Candy would keep quiet without Veronica being there, and I wondered if that had been me once—calling the shots like Veronica. Making the other girls do terrible, mean things out of spite and boredom.
I was now a strong believer in karma.
My crappy day got a little better when Carson came into
class. The smile on my face wasn’t forced or weak. It was big and stupid—real.
He didn’t smile back as he sat beside me, and I felt the happy
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