The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series)

by Tricia Wentworth

  “Do I really know everything now?” The insecurity is starting to fester and now I’m wondering why Marisol hasn’t used this against me since Jade is in her circle of friends.

  “You do.” He nods once and takes a long blink. “I’ll tell you every girl I have so much as kissed if you want me to.”

  I gulp. “No thanks. I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  We are silent a few minutes while everything sinks in. Neither of us really know what to say. He’s right, he can’t fix it. We can’t go back in time. I knew he had a history, it was just super nice being in my ignorant little bubble.

  “This is not how I wanted this night to end,” he finally says, reaching out to place my hair behind my ear. “I just wanted a date.”

  “I’m glad I know,” I shrug honestly. “I just don’t know how to take all that. Part of me doubts why you are with me when you had what you did, and did what you did, with someone as sexy and confident as Jade. That isn’t really my thing. That isn’t me. We are so different.”

  His lips are on mine almost before I finish my sentence. His kiss is urgent; he’s apologizing in a way he can’t with words, and I know he would do anything to make this better. He pulls back a few seconds later and looks at me strongly, his “I know you” look.

  “Sexy is definitely your thing. You are extremely sexy to me. And I want you just the way you are,” he says breathless.

  I smirk and take a deep breath. “How will I ever measure up to them? What if I’m not as good as they are at…” I let my sentence fall off, not being able to finish what I’m thinking. Or say the “S” word again. Case in point. Not ready for that. Probably not ready to get married for that matter. I am 18 years old. I wasn’t worried about it before the Culling because I figured I would be one of those people that waited until just before the deadline until they marry or do any of those sorts of activities. Meanwhile, other people are knocking boots at the ripe age of six-freaking-teen.

  “You’ll be great. We’ll be fine. Trust me,” he says with a passionate look that lets me know he wants me, in that way, wants me.

  When he looks at me like that, I feel bad for being so hard on him. I told him the last time we had this discussion about his past that it wouldn’t change the way I look at him, and it doesn’t… it just keeps playing on my own insecurities. He’s experienced and I’m not, and it makes me feel a little anxious about the person that I’m supposed to be spending the rest of my life with. I want to be his partner in everything, even like that. Eventually, anyway. So knowing that he is already way ahead of me in that regard just makes me feel severely lacking.

  I shrug. “I’m sorry. I’m just being a bit jealous, I guess.”

  “I’m familiar with the feeling.” He nods affectionately while I’m harshly reminded I was kissing his best friend just a couple of weeks ago.

  “Can you stay until I fall asleep and just lie here talking to me? And behave? I don’t want you to leave after all that and while I feel like this,” I ask hesitantly. I know that if he goes now, I will toss and turn for a while and the insecurities will just fester even more until morning.

  “On my best behavior,” he says seriously and gives me a quick kiss. I know he means it.

  He stays, curling me into his chest, and puts me to sleep telling me military training stories. It takes a long time, but his fingers playing with my hair lull me to sleep.

  ****

  The next morning, my professional black dress falls to just above my knees. It’s square cut around my neck. Where most of my dresses have an open back or a slit up the leg in an effort for sexiness, this dress doesn’t. It’s all business. Just like we are about to be as we try to win over the hearts of the voters. A deep red blazer with a matching chunky necklace livens up my otherwise boring outfit. Necklaces like this remind me of the one I had to wear after my mishap with Isabella when my neck was bruised. My bruises have only just faded as is, a cease in the constant reminder of that fateful day. I’m looking forward to Frank and Gertie not having to apply makeup to my neck anymore.

  Speaking of, Frank and Gertie are flying around my room. With our upcoming tour of the townships, they have more work to do than they have ever had before, but Frank is just beaming. This is what he loves to do. They, of course, are coming with us as we kept them on as attendants for both Lyncoln and me. Lyncoln’s old attendant helps Frank whenever needed and will be making this big trip as well.

  Two full planes will be packed out for the tour, which will be evenly split with half of the candidates and half of the security. The candidates will sit in the old first-class seats, leaving the back for the attendants and extra security. You would think for four couples, there would only be a handful of us going. Nope. Our guards, our attendants, the security teams, our professors, and of course, our Culling organizer Elle. Two full planes worth of people.

  Rumor has it Taggert wasn’t even going to allow the tour, but in working with the President and our Culling professors, came up with set parameters for security. All our professors have to join us since they serve on the Culling Board of Directors and watch our every move.

  There has been an air of excitement for days. This is exciting! I understand now why people used to travel so much, well, before they had to worry about a virus spreading and killing 99.9% of the population, that is. But it is exciting getting to go somewhere new and different!

  As an added bonus, Hadenfelt and his monitor watching will not be an issue. Taggert and Lyncoln have vetted every guard going except for Marisol’s personal guards. As long as our watches are off, we should be getting a break from that jerk. I’m sure Lyncoln used that to help persuade them to let us go on the tours. Get us away from Hadenfelt’s grip on Henry and the rest of us.

  Freedom. I can’t wait.

  “But I wish I could just carry the dresses myself. I don’t trust them being in cargo,” Frank says exasperated as he paces around the room.

  “I’ll make sure ours are the last ones on so that heinous girl and her minions can’t mess with them,” Gertie says and pats Frank on the arm reassuringly.

  “I’m glad you both will be there.” I smile at their exchange and worry over me. “Not only would I not ever know what to wear, but it just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  Gertie looks like she is about to cry, and they exchange a look together.

  “What is it?” I ask concerned. I have never seen them like this. They went from happy nervousness to looking sad in less than a second. The crying is normal, but not the nervousness.

  “She’s just sad, darling, because the Culling will soon be over, and then you, my dear, will be on to bigger and better things,” Frank says affectionately.

  “Well if I am, I will need my attendants, now won’t I?” I smile, looking from one to the other. I don’t at all feel like I will be Madam President right now, but they don’t need to know how dire the situation with Marisol and Henry really is, so I joke with them instead. From the beginning, they have supported me and spoke into me that I was going to win. I appreciate that. When I feel the doubts creep in and start to weigh me down, it’s nice to have someone have unwavering belief in me.

  Frank’s face drops. “If you are Madam President, you will have your pick of whatever attendants you want. However many you want.” For the first time since meeting him, Frank looks unconfident.

  “In that case, if we win, I choose you guys,” I gesture obviously.

  “No, darling. You should look around. There are some very talented younger designers. You will need someone with more developed skills than mine. Some fresh meat,” Frank says quietly, and Gertie still looks like she is about to cry.

  “I don’t really care. If we win, you can hire the fresh meat and they can work with and for you like Lyncoln’s attendant Royce does. As long as you two will have me, I want you with me. When have I ever treated you otherwise?” I look from one to the other again, so they know I’m serious.

  Suddenly, Frank throws hi
s arms around me. “Oh, Reagan, my darling. You are just the best. You are such a joy to work with.”

  Gertie joins in and we have ourselves a group hug.

  “We do have to win though, you know. This seems super silly to be making a big deal about now.” I try to remind them again and again they need to keep their expectations a bit more down to earth. Our time in the Culling may very well be winding down.

  “You hush up, darling,” Frank sniffs into my hair. “You will win and you will like it.”

  That makes me snort with laughter as Lyncoln walks in without knocking and asks, “Am I interrupting something?”

  I look at him and see his amused smirk. He knows I’m close to my attendants, which is why he had no reservations in choosing them to be our attendants and letting his be used as needed. His attendant, Royce, wasn’t ever used that much anyway since dressing a man is a much simpler task than dressing a woman.

  Frank pulls back and gives Lyncoln a fake salute. “Just getting back to work, sir.”

  Lyncoln rolls his eyes and smirks again. They have formed quite the lighthearted relationship and it does my heart good to see Lyncoln joke around with someone like that. Though Frank is probably nothing like him, it makes me wonder what kind of relationship Lyncoln would have had with his dad if he were still around.

  Gertie gives Lyncoln a quick hug, thoroughly surprising him, and then they are saying their goodbyes and talking about a million things they need to make sure they bring. We are departing in a short hour, after all.

  After they leave Lyncoln raises his eyebrows at me.

  “They thought I wouldn’t want to keep them on if we won,” I explain. “You know, since they are in denial that we will do anything but win.”

  “And you set them straight?” he asks with a slow smile.

  I shrug. “It’s what I do.”

  He walks over to me and sets his hands on my hips. His oh-so-good smell envelops me, and I can’t help but swoon for the hundredth time at this man I get to call my boyfriend. Then I think of the sour ending of last night.

  So what if he has a history? He had a traumatic history before the girls came along. I can’t be too hard on him for those choices. In the here and now, he’s a perfect gentleman to me. His history makes me insecure about me, it doesn’t make me insecure about us.

  “Are we good?” he asks worried.

  I nod. “We are more than good.”

  “Yours?” he asks with a half-smile.

  “Mine.” I pull him in by the tie and plant one on him.

  ****

  This plane ride, I find myself actually enjoying. Sadly, Marisol and Henry are on the same flight as us. Taggert demanded it so there would be no foul play from Hadenfelt, who is still on suspension of course, but we all know his influence knows no boundaries. Demoted or not. Reason number 7,456 that Marisol cannot become Madam President.

  Sarge is in front of Lyncoln and I, and Jamie and Rodgers behind us. Marisol and Henry have four guards each coming with them for the tour. As if that doesn’t look obvious enough.

  I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to try anything though. We should all be safe for now. We also didn’t broadcast this decision until the last minute, so the drifters wouldn’t get word of our travels. Vegas had a twelve-hour notice that we were coming. And we are going straight from township to township. It’s going to be an exhausting couple of days, but it was the only way Taggert approved it.

  I wish I was on the plane with Attie and Maverick so I could hear how excited they are about returning home to Vegas. I myself am beyond excited to go to Omaha. Dougall says Omaha is gold for us. Lyncoln, Marisol and Henry, and Elizabeth will split votes in Denver. Attie and Maverick will split votes in Vegas. Omaha should be all ours. Galveston should be mostly Knox’s. Detroit and Seattle are up for grabs and may be a huge deciding factor even though they aren’t as populated as Vegas and Denver.

  “Do you need anything before we begin the descent?” Jamie asks from behind us.

  “I’m good,” I turn smiling back at him.

  “No bathroom then?” he asks with a smirk.

  “I am still absolutely sure I do not want to pee on a plane,” I whisper. Rodgers and Jamie both laugh while Lyncoln looks at me amused.

  I smile thinking of Jamie and my discussion on that first plane ride. So, so, much has changed in a few short months. I was just hoping to make it a few weeks at that point. Now, here I am in the final four, hoping to make it to the final three. Annnd, I have a super attractive, muscular man by my side that actually cares for me. Not only did I have my first kiss and actually fall in love, but I am currently contemplating marriage. Marriage!

  As I think of all those things, I’m reminded of some dark times too. We lost Oliver. I also killed a person. Those two things have drastically impacted me and have only happened a few weeks ago. They’ve hardened me in realizing that life isn’t always roses. Sometimes bad things happen and there’s nothing you can do about it. Sometimes you are forced to make tough decisions and then walk out the consequences of it, hoping with each step you take that you can heal and recover a little more.

  So much can change in so very little time. The Culling is like life on steroids. I can’t imagine going back. I can’t imagine not meeting Lyncoln. It’s like this is what I am supposed to do, a calling of sorts.

  My mental pep-talk gives me the confidence I was lacking. I can do this. For Lyncoln. For myself. For Henry. For my family. For Marcia, and Vanessa, and October, and even shy Cadence from Detroit.

  I can flipping do this!

  Chapter 5

  I so cannot do this.

  The podium we are standing behind is on a raised stage in the middle of an old ball field with the general population of Vegas before us. Elizabeth is singing the most beautiful rendition of My Country Tis of Thee, and I realize that Lyncoln and my chances are pretty much slim to none.

  The crowd is bursting with applause as soon as she sings the last note. Wow. That girl can sing. Well played, Elizabeth and Maverick. Well played. I’m wondering if this is something they did so that Maverick could sway the votes of his home township of Vegas, or if this will be a reoccurring thing.

  Maybe I need a talent.

  Hmm. What could I do? Well, the things I am good at are: eating chocolate, watering plants, ogling Lyncoln, and then there’s my odd fascination with clouds. I don’t think any of those classify as entertaining talents, so I think that ship has definitely sailed for me.

  Next up, we meet some of the locals. Attie is getting far more hugs than anyone and is absolutely beaming. She sends her family over to meet us. I am totally honored. I bend over and chat with her littlest sister while Lyncoln talks with her dad.

  We shake more hands in the next hour than I have in my entire life. Some people are to the point and want to know answers to specific questions. Others are just wanting to meet us and congratulate us on making it this far. Lyncoln, ever the protector, is always right by my side and is charming as he usually is when the time calls for it. I feel like we do well. Well enough? I’m not sure. I don’t even know what good enough looks like.

  “Gosh, I miss those clothes,” I hear a familiar voice say.

  “It was always about the clothes, wasn’t it?” I turn, smiling at Renae.

  “No. It was about the boys,” she says honestly with a laugh then turns bright red when she notices Lyncoln beside me listening in.

  I laugh. Although Renae could be a bit vindictive, she had still been a part of our group of friends. We talk back and forth for a while. Afterward, I realize she never even mentioned Benjamin. I’m not sure if it’s because she knows we had an argument or if it’s because they are over. I guess they must be since she is here and he is back in Omaha.

  Before I know it, we are saying goodbye to this group of people and leaving for a quick tour of the Vegas township. The research facility is a short distance from the old baseball stadium, but we drive it in SUVs anyway. I absentmindedly wonder ho
w they got all the standard vehicles here for us to use but am distracted when I see the very modern looking and massive glass building.

  We soon find out that astute people in white coats are working on different projects floor by floor within this large building. Some are using microscopes like we used in our lab with Professor Zax. Some are working with tubes of different colored solutions. Different cords and machines are seen throughout, and the place just thrums with intelligence. As we begin our tour, I think to myself that I’m not even smart enough to be allowed in these doors. This place just has an air of abounding brilliance. I wonder how many major medical breakthroughs have happened within the walls of this building.

  On each of the floors the scientists pause and our guide explains what they are doing on that specific floor. On the floor we are currently stopped on, they are working on the use of plant-based oils in immunotherapy for cancer patients. Henry and I exchange a look, and I know we are both thinking of his mom. Lyncoln gives my hand a squeeze, realizing it too. I find I can’t help myself, turning to the scientists, who are all eyeing us as if we are an annoyance, and ask them a few questions.

  “Which plants and herbs are most influential in your immunotherapy?” I ask.

  A quiet young man answers, “Cypress, lavender, olibanum, ginger, and peppermint.”

  “We only typically grow lavender, ginger, and peppermint in Omaha and very few of each. Will you be increasing the yield projections for your research or growing them yourselves?” I ask politely.