by L A Cotton
She stuttered, "Oh, yeah. Hmm, Allie. I'm Allie."
I smiled, before turning my attention to the guy.
"Liam," he grunted, obviously not wanting to make friends.
I flashed him a forced smile and introduced myself.
"Yeah, we know who you are," Liam grumbled.
“You do?” was my only thought as Allie looked at me with sad eyes. "You went out with Pierce, right?"
I didn't know why I was so surprised that she knew. After my breakdown at Dead Man's Cove last year, news traveled fast about the girl nobody knew, who just happened to have a thing going with one of the most popular guys at CFA. I guess I thought summer would be a long time to forget, but apparently, it wasn't long enough.
I started to nod but something caught Allie's eye over my shoulder and her eyes almost bugged out. Liam shuffled in his seat, sitting a little taller, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't need to turn around to know who was behind me. I felt him the minute he reached the space behind me. My body wanted to sink back into him with relief, but I rubbed at the scar through my long sleeved sweater, focusing on the pain biting into my skin, refusing to look back at Jackson.
"Sorry, I'm late. What did I miss?" Jackson pulled out the empty chair and dropped into it, positioning himself at an angle from me, keeping his eyes trained on Allie and Liam. I silently thanked him for the gesture; he was giving me space.
"We were just talking about you actually." Liam’s eyes flashed to me and I glared at him, trying to ask him to leave it, but Allie beat me to it.
"Liam was just telling us which poets he thinks we should compare. Right, Liam?" Allie nudged Liam discreetly, and he mumbled something inaudible.
"Cool. Well, I vote we compare T. S. Elliot and Robert Lowell."
"I didn't expect you to like poetry." Allie's mouth was hanging open like she couldn't possibly believe someone like Jackson had layers that extended to dead poets.
Jackson cracked a smile and laughed. "Why would I be here if I didn't like poetry? Besides, it's turning out to be my favorite class."
The words hung in the space between us, and I could feel the heat from Jackson's gaze burning into the side of my face. I didn't need to look at him to know that he meant his words for me, but I didn't understand what game he was trying to play either.
Allie's face softened and her frown melted into a look of adoration. Girls wore that same look whenever they were in the presence of The Fallen. "I love poetry..." Allie launched into her million and one reasons for loving Peterson's class. I tuned out, staring ahead, refusing to even glance in Jackson's direction. All the time thinking that I should have dropped the class after all.
~
"Ana, wait up." Jackson's voice called after me as I made a beeline for the door.
I had to get out of there because I couldn't breathe. For the whole of the class, Jackson had tortured me with discreet notes. It was like being back in freshman year. Except this time, his messages went unanswered. He wanted to know if I was okay. And all I wanted was to yank off my sweater and thrust my angry, raw wrist in his face. I was anything but okay. But I didn't. What difference would it make? Jackson had decided his path…and I had to decide mine.
I kept walking, ignoring the plea in his voice. I’d almost made it to the door, but then Peterson's voice boomed, "Miss Parry, a word please, after everyone leaves."
What did he want? He had said nothing during class about wanting to see me. I reluctantly lingered near the door until all the students were gone. All except Jackson. Confused, I opened my mouth to ask Peterson what was going on, but he cut me off. "I'll leave you to it, Mr. Pierce," he said, addressing Jackson.
"Thanks, Sir."
I stood in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Had Jackson really asked a professor to lure me back into the room?
Peterson stalked past me and exited the room, leaving just the two of us. Jackson watched me intently, his eyes boring into me. I wanted to move, to run out of the door, but I was rooted to the spot, under his trance.
"Wha-what are you doing?" I asked unable to disguise the quiver in my voice.
Jackson didn't reply. Instead, he starting inching toward me. My feet backed up until my back hit the wall and a small gasp escaped the small O formed by my lips.
"What...?”
Jackson reached me and outstretched his arm. I couldn't predict what he was going to do, and I held my breath...waiting. As his hand brushed my cheek, I swallowed hard, but it traveled straight past me and yanked down the blind on the window.
It was like a Band-Aid being ripped off and I jumped into action, swiftly moving away from him. I needed to put space between us. My mind was unable to think properly with him so near, surrounding me...suffocating me.
I watched as he turned to face me, and my eyes roamed down his body. His black V-neck sweater clung to his torso like a second skin, rippling over his defined chest. A fire ignited low down in my stomach, but I shut it down. I needed a clear head to hear whatever it was he had to say.
Jackson caught me checking him out, and a slow grin broke over his face to match his cocked eyebrow.
"What do you want, Jackson?" I sighed, digging my fingers into the sides of my thighs. "You can't keep doing this. It isn't fair. You walked away..."
Jackson winced as I said the words, narrowing his eyes at me. He was weighing things up in his head, considering my words. Edging forward again, he stopped just short of me. "I know, fuck, I know. I just..." His eyes dropped to the floor, and my heart ached for him. I could see how hard it was for him, it was written all over his beautiful face. I wanted to go to him, to make it all better, but it wouldn't change anything. Not a damn thing.
"I just need to know that you're okay." He lifted his face to meet my eyes. "Are you okay?"
The air shifted. I could feel this was a pivotal moment for us. If I laid myself bare and told him the truth, I could see in his eyes...that he wouldn't walk away again. It would be easy—the words were on the tip of my tongue. The scar on my wrist burned like a voice telling me to do it—to come clean. But where would that leave us? Braiden wouldn't let us be together, not in Chastity Falls. Never. No, Jackson needed to hear I was okay and then perhaps we could both move on. Or at least, he could. I needed to cut him loose.
Staring him straight in the eye, I took a deep breath. Just say the words, Ana.
"I'm fine. Sure, it hurt. Hell, it hurt a lot. But I understand why you did it. We can't be together and be safe. Apparently, we're not even safe apart, so it's for the best. I understand and I'm fine." The words poured out, but they sounded foreign to me. My heart thumped out of my chest protesting the lies, and the scars etched into my body screamed in anger. And my eyes filled with tears I refused to let fall.
An indecipherable expression came over Jackson's face and he grimaced. "Okay. I won't do this again. You're right, it isn't fair." He hung his head low and I knew he believed every word. Regret flooded me, quickly turning to panic. Had I made a terrible mistake by not being honest? I wanted so much to believe it, but for as much as I hated it, my head knew better than my heart.
Jackson didn't look back as he reached the door, but he did pause before opening it, his hand lingering on the frame. "I'm sorry," he said before disappearing into the corridor.
~
My body almost collapsed on the steps of McGinley. I’d waited for Jackson to leave the Pauling Building and then I made a run for it, ignoring the blur of students watching me as if I had lost it. I didn't care. I just needed to get back to the dorm.
The lies might have rolled off my tongue in Peterson's class with Jackson, but the damage was all on the inside, spreading through me like wildfire.
The door slammed shut behind me and I just made it into the bathroom before collapsing in a breathless heap. Crouched on my knees, my head touched the cool tiles as my mind replayed the conversation with Jackson. He still cared—I saw it in his eyes, written all over his face.
Maybe I
did the wrong thing by telling him that I was fine.
My scars ignited, burning and itching. Through rapid breaths, my eyes darted around the small room until they landed on Elena's cosmetic box and the pair of black handled scissors. They teased me, whispering taunts to me. Just once.
Clamping my eyes shut, I lay my head back onto the cold tiles. Don't do this. I don't have to do this.
Before I could stop myself, I crawled to the counter and my hand began frantically grasping for the box. The contents spilled over, clattering to the floor, but my hand found the steel apparatus and gripped tight. Clutching the scissors to me, I breathed deeply and centered myself. Just the feel of the sharp edge against my palm calmed me. A part of me knew that in itself wasn't normal, but I wasn't normal. Not anymore. My hand tightened; the steel biting into my skin as tears rolled down my cheeks. They weren't tears of pain, though. They were tears of loss. Grief.
My body sunk back on the floor still clasping the scissors to my chest; gripping on for life. Sobs wracked through me as I let myself feel everything. The accident, Jackson, Chastity Falls.
A loud bang rang out through the dorm room, startling me. I dropped the scissors in a panic and scrambled to my feet, trying to dry off my face with the back of my hand.
"Ana, it's me, open up," Paul's voice pleaded, and I paused trying to formulate a plan. What was he even doing here anyway? In our all-girl dormitory?
"Ana? Open up. Don’t make me kick the door down."
A small chuckle escaped my lips at the image of Paul trying to bust his way in. Even in my desperate state, he could still elicit a laugh from me.
"Coming. I'm coming."
Rubbing one more time at my eyes, I unlocked the door and stepped to the side granting him access. "What the hell, Paul?"
He turned, his eyes narrowing at me, and I could only imagine the mess I looked. "Elena sent me."
"Wh-what?" The words rushed out.
"She saw you making a run for it after class and texted me."
“Oh.” My eyes darted to the floor and then to back to Paul. His eyes held me, begging me to talk.
And something in me broke.
My body slumped into him, and he opened his arms just in time to catch me. He wrapped me in him and cradled me while I sobbed uncontrollably into his shirt. Clinging onto him like my life depended on him.
I wasn’t sure how long we stood there while Paul whispered soothing noises into my ear trying to calm me. All feeling left me, numbed by the ferocity of the tears pouring out. Vaguely aware of Paul leading me to my bed, I let him pull me down next to him and wrap his arm around me once more.
“Talk to me, Ana.” His voice sounded all choked up.
I shook my head from side to side, unwilling to meet his eyes as they burned into me.
“Ana.” He lifted my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him. “You have to talk to someone. We’re all worried about you. About whatever the hell went down last year.”
Jackson Pierce. Jackson Pierce is what happened to me. I couldn’t say the words. Even though he knew it had to do with Jackson, saying them would only make it even more real.
“You’re one of the most amazing girls I know, Ana. You’re funny, and smart, and so stubborn it irritates the shit out of me. And it kills me to know that something is going on with you and you won’t let any of us help.”
My head whipped up and I gaped at him.
“Don’t let a guy do this to you. You’re stronger than that.” A hint of a smile played on Paul’s lips and I sniffled, making a disgusting noise through my nose. Paul exploded with laughter, and before I knew it, I was laughing through my tears.
“Thank you.” I reached for his hand and wrapped my fingers around his, squeezing gently.
I didn’t say anything else, but he had just saved me in more ways than he would ever know.
Chapter 10
~JACKSON~
Ana had let me go. Given me an out. Fuck. I should have been relieved—she understood why I walked away. But when she said the words, I felt like my heart was shredded into irreparable pieces. Of course, I knew it was only what I deserved, but she was mine. I wanted her. I needed her more than the air I breathed.
Ana was a game changer. I knew that the moment I saw her standing there with her one duffle bag looking so lost. It didn’t take long, and I knew, just knew, we were meant to find each other. But our lives were more fucked up than any Shakespeare tragedy.
“Pierce, what the fuck happened with Briony?” Braiden didn’t bother knocking as he stormed into my room.
“Knock, why don’t you.” I continued pounding the free weights, trying to ease the tension in my muscles.
“She’s been bitching to me all morning about the mixer. Said you abandoned her or some shit?” He moved to the end of the bench and glared down at me, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “This is Briony we’re talking about.”
Braiden snapped his neck from side to side, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Pushed the wrong button.
“She’s my fucking sister, bro. Your family, or have you forgotten that?”
I was off the bench in a second, the weights crashing to the floor. My body squared up to Braiden’s and he smirked as if my outburst amused him. “I told you not to push things with us. She is family, my sister too. Or did you forget that?”
Laughter rumbled deep in Braiden’s throat and he shook his head. “Family, yes, blood, no. It would be good for the family for you two to hook up and make it permanent. Dad would love nothing more than to have his golden boy as his official son-in-law.”
Ignoring his dig, I focused on the thing we could talk about. “Fuck, Braid, are we really having this discussion? I’m almost twenty. Twenty, man. And you’re talking like you want me to propose. She’s as good as my sister and that shit is fucked up!”
He murmured something under his breath and then grunted. “You need to get laid then. Move on. Prove to me that you’re over her.”
The blood in my veins hit its boiling point and my fists clenched at my sides. Aware I needed to rein myself in, and quick, my eyes bore into Braiden. “Don’t we have more important things to deal with than whether I’m getting laid or not?”
“I’m having a party this weekend. It’s your birthday. You will be there, and you will act like everyone else wearing a Fallen jersey on their back. You’re a Donohue and a Fallen, start acting like one. Your shit is getting old real quick.” Braiden turned and left the room.
As the door closed, my fist made contact with the wall, pain exploding through my knuckles and wrist as I sank to the floor.
~
“Happy Birthday, fucker.” Dennis clapped me on the back and I forced a chin nod.
True to his word, Braiden had pulled together a party at the house in honor of my birthday. Not that I felt like celebrating—I didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
“It’s the birthday boy! Where have you been all day?” Kyler didn’t approach me, instead calling out to me over the counter in the huge kitchen.
I shrugged. “That’s for me to know.”
“Oooh, someone has their panties in a twist again. Braid says we need to find you some pussay tonight. Work off some of that tension.” Shaun grinned, but I ignored him, my eyes finding Braiden across the room, standing in the corner watching me with a shit-eating smirk on his face.
“Pussay! Pussay! Pussay!” The goofy cowboy started cheering, waving his beer in the air, and the other guys started laughing hysterically.
Taking a long pull on my beer and clenching and unclenching my sore hand, I watched them dancing around like total goons. Braiden didn’t join in, either. He remained leaning up against the wall, glaring at me. His eyes spoke volumes and he didn’t need to say the words. I was expected to join in tonight…or there would be consequences.
Pushing off the counter, I cleared my throat. “What are we waiting for then?”
A couple of the guys stopped and gawked at me like I had grown a sec
ond head. But they soon filed out of the kitchen to Shaun’s chants of pussy and a night filled with booze and hot girls.
“Happy Birthday, Pierce.” A hand snaked around my waist and I turned to find myself face to face with Tammy, head cheerleader and the team’s biggest groupie. She pressed up against me on her tiptoes, brushing my cheek with her lips.
I felt Braiden watching and knew he had put her up to this. Another test. Detangling Tammy from me, I held her at arm’s length, but in a way that made it look like I was checking her out, my eyes involuntarily skimming down her body. There was no denying she was hot, but the girl had slept with half of the team, and sloppy seconds wasn’t my style. Besides, she had nothing on Ana.
“Looking good, Tammy.” I smiled and made small talk, making sure I had Braiden’s full attention. When he finally moved deeper into the crowd, I relaxed and ended the conversation. “Enjoy the party. I need a drink.”
A look of disappointment washed over her heart-shaped face, but I didn’t hang around to nurse her feelings. I needed another beer if I was going to survive the night and Braiden’s games.
“What can I get you, Pierce?” a voice called out as a crowd of students parted as if I was Moses with the power to part seas.
After all these years, I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way people treated me, like I was better than them. Growing up with Braiden was like that. He said jump, people asked how high. And I was his best friend. Brother. His other half. People just expected us together. At school, parties, even football—our whole lives it had been Braiden Donohue and Jackson Pierce. Of course, people knew our history. Sons of Marcus Donohue and Michael Pierce. We were expected to follow in their footsteps, which didn’t bode well for me, considering Dad died on family business. Fuck…Dad. I didn’t let my mind wander there very often, but whenever I did, it left me gutted. Even after all these years.
Shutting down the thoughts, I grabbed a beer from Kenny, the designated bartender for the night. I nodded at the Patrón, and he lined me up a glass. Something stronger wouldn’t hurt. Snatching it off the counter, I downed it in one and made my way outside. Dennis spotted me, and beckoned me over, handing me a second beer. “You all right?”
