The Secrets We Carry

by Jessica Sorensen

  An exhale flees from my lips, tears burning the back of my eyes. “Leave me alone.” I cringe at how pathetically weak I sound .

  “No. Not until we talk about you harassing Maci and spreading lies about me.” He slants closer, his stale breath hot on my face. “I know you went to her house, Wynter. Maci told me .”

  “I don’t even know a Maci.” My fingers curl into a fist as last night’s nightmare blares through my mind .

  I want to hurt him like he did me, but I can’t .

  Helpless. I feel so helpless. And I hate it .

  Hate .

  I hate him .

  I hate his friends .

  I hate myself .

  “I know it was you,” he insists with a smug smile. “Maci said it was a girl with short blonde hair who was wearing a cheap leather jacket and boots, yet drove a BMW .”

  “There’re a lot of blonde girls in this town who drive BMWs.” I carry his gaze, despite how scared shitless I am .

  “Not ones who wear second-hand clothing.” He pulls a disgusted face at my outfit. “You’re the only girl I know who fits that description. And the only girl I know who’d be stupid enough to try to get back at me .”

  I stick my hand into my pocket and start pushing buttons, hoping I can get the video recorder to turn on and record this conversation. “If you’re implying I want to get back at you for something, isn’t that like you admitting you did something to me that made me want to get back at you ?”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re so stupid sometimes. Seriously, you live up to that whole dumb blonde cliché.” He snags ahold of my arm as I start to step back. “Go ahead; press that button. Make a recording.” He yanks on my arm, causing my hand to jerk from my pocket. My phone falls out and bounces off the floor .

  Adrenaline courses through me, my pulse sprinting. How the hell did he know ?

  As if reading my mind, he says, “You think this is the first time I’ve had to deal with an uncooperative participant ?”

  Did he basically admit he’s raped more than just me ?

  I stare down at my phone, cursing my inability to turn on the video more discreetly. “I wasn’t a participant,” I growl out. “I was drugged up and had no clue what was going on. And I told you guys to stop at least a hundred times .”

  He presses his fingers firmly against my wrist, imprinting my skin. “No, you were drunk. Hammered, actually. And you wanted it. Begged for it .”

  My gaze snaps to his, my fingernails piercing my palms. “No, I wasn’t, and you know it .”

  He shrugs. “It’s your word against mine. And my friends. Plus, everyone else who saw you shitfaced that night.” Yanking me closer to him, he dips his mouth toward my ear and whispers, “Do I need to remind you what’s going to happen if you don’t leave this alone? I think I made it pretty clear that night. Let this go and move on. If you don’t, you’re going to regret it.” He digs his fingernails into my flesh. “You don’t want to mess with me, Wynter. I’m like a fucking god around here, and I can break you in half with a snap of my finger.” He reclines back, grinning. “Oh, and tell your dad I said hello next time you see him, will you? We’ve been on fantastic terms for the last couple months .”

  My dad has talked to Travis ?

  Travis and my dad are on great terms ?

  My dad who knows what Travis did to me !

  Traitor .

  Traitor .

  Traitor .

  Blood roars in my eardrums as I inhale and exhale, about to explode .

  Traitor .

  Revenge .

  I want to make him hurt .

  I’m about to explode and who knows what else I’ll do, when a guy around my age with short blond hair, strangely familiar green eyes, a pierced lip and brows, and a couple of skeleton tattoos on his arms exits a classroom near us. As he moves closer to us, he glances up from the book he’s reading, concern rising as his eyes stray from Travis to me .

  “Everything okay? ” he mouths .

  For the first time in the last couple months, that question doesn’t bother me .

  I discreetly shake my head .

  With a subtle nod, he tucks the paperback into the back pocket of his jeans and walks up with his gaze fixed on Travis. “Is there a problem ?”

  Travis tears his attention from me, a scowl forming on his face. “This is none of your damn business, so walk away , man .”

  The stranger lets out a low laugh. “Yeah, that’s so not happening .”

  Travis releases his death grip on me and turns to face the stranger, standing close with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m going to give you five seconds to walk away, and I’ll let this go. If you don’t, you’re going to regret it .”

  Curiosity sparks in the stranger’s eyes. “Why? What’re you going to do ?”

  Travis works his jaw from side to side. “You think I’m joking ?”

  The guy amusedly shakes his head. “Nope. Not at all .”

  Travis gets in his face. “Then why the fuck are you smiling ?”

  The guy gives a half-shrug. “I guess I’m just a smiley sort of guy.” A vein bulges in his neck .

  Between the two of them, Travis is much more muscular; the other guy leaner and toned. But Travis is shorter and looks way less hardened than the tattooed, pierced guy. Looks can be deceiving, though—I painfully understand that—and the stranger could easily be as cuddly as a bunny, hates violence, has never been in a fight, and may just get his ass kicked .

  All because of me, a girl he doesn’t even know .

  I long for the can of pepper spray I ordered this morning as I stride forward to break up the impending fight .

  “You’re going to regret this,” Travis warns in a chilling, cold tone. “You don’t even know who you’re messing with.” He backs away, throwing a smirk in my direction. “So are you, Wynter.” He swaggers down the hallway like he’s God’s gift to the world, when really, I’m pretty sure the devil cursed us with his presence .

  A cold chill slithers down my back. What was his last threat to me? That he’s going to come after me now ?

  I feel sick .

  “I heard rumors he was a douchebag, but holy shit, that guy’s a prick,” the stranger mutters, shaking his head as he turns toward me. “Are you okay ?”

  I internally sigh. “I’m fine. Thanks for intervening .”

  “No problem.” He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze sweeping over me. “Are you sure you’re okay? He was really in your face .”

  I push my lips into a tense smile. “Yeah, he’s just upset I told a girl he’s trying to date that he is a douchebag and that she shouldn’t date him.” Not a total lie. “I guess he doesn’t handle rejection very well .”

  “Yeah, I’d say.” He studies me with his lips pressed together. “He grabbed your arm, and whether he’s pissed off or not, that’s crossing a huge line .”

  My gaze drops to my wrist, hidden under the sleeve of my leather jacket. The area throbs. “ I know .”

  “You should consider reporting him. In fact, how about I walk you to the main office and we do it right now?” His eyes are so full of compassion and strangely remind me of Everette’s .

  I offer him a sad smile. “That sounds nice in theory, but I doubt it’ll do any good .”

  “It won’t hurt to try .”

  Yeah, it would. “I’ll think about it, but right now, I have to get to class .”

  His lips sink into a frown. “All right. Well, if you decide to and need me to vouch for you, let me know .”

  “Okay.” I start to step away, but freeze. “Wait. What’s your name ?”

  He smiles and offers me his hand. “Reece .”

  “Wynter.” I shake his hand, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my fingers quiver. “And thank you again for helping me out .”

  “No problem.” He pulls his hand away from mine and hooks his fingers in the tops of his pockets. “You know, if you want to learn how to protect yourself in a
situation like that, my friend teaches a self-defense class. The place is only a couple miles away from here .”

  “Really?” My shocked tone causes his forehead to crease. “Sorry, it’s just that, this morning, I was actually looking for places to take a self-defense class .”

  “What a freakish coincidence,” he jokes lightly. “Guess it must be a sign or something .”

  “I guess so.” I scratch my wrist and wince. Between punching Everette in the face and Travis grabbing my wrist, every bone in my hand and lower arm pulsates with pain. “Do you have a card or number or something to your friend’s place ?”

  He nods. “Yeah, I can give you his number .”

  “That sounds great.” I pick up my phone and grimace at the cracks now covering the screen. The phone still functions enough for me to punch in the number as Reece gives it to me, along with his own personal number. Then I stuff my phone into my pocket, wave goodbye, and start on my way to class with the strangest sensation settling over me .

  The entire time Reece spoke to me, I didn’t flip out. Then again, I never felt as if he were hitting on me .

  Maybe I’m getting better. Could that be possible ?

  The concept seems plausible, until I arrive late for class and my phone buzzes inside my pocket. The message is from an unlisted number, a message that simply contains the words: next time you think of speaking, remember this . Two photos are attached to the message, one of me looking out my window into my backyard and one of me sleeping .

  Vomit burns my throat. Last night, someone was watching me from my backyard and apparently went into my house. The number may not be listed, but I’m betting it’s from Travis and his friends .

  I don’t want to be afraid, but as fear rushes through me, potent and cold, I take off running. Running away again. Afraid. Always afraid .

  Eleven

  Everette

  W ynter ran away from me again today, but I’m not surprised. I’m learning she’s a runner. Makes me wonder what she’s running from; what she’s so afraid of. I could’ve chased her down. I wanted to talk to her more about last night; see if I could wiggle the truth out of her about why she thought Maci was in trouble. Did she overhear Travis talking about hurting Maci ?

  Wynter seems to despise Travis, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t hang around him. Their families are connected. Perhaps Wynter has all sorts of insight into what goes on in Travis’s world? If so, I may be able to learn details from her. That is, if I can get her to open up to me .

  Using her like that doesn’t sit well with me, so I put a tack in the idea for now and head to my car to leave campus, my only class today having gotten canceled. That’s okay with me. Leaves me more time to look into why Wynter was staking out Maci’s house last night .

  Before I leave, I text my friend Reece to see if he needs a ride anywhere. His class ended a couple minutes ago and he’s been having car trouble. I’ve tried time and time again to pay for the repairs, but he’s stubborn and refuses to take handouts. Which I understand .

  Me: I’m leaving campus. You need a ride anywhere ?

  Reece: Yeah, can you drop me off at Gabbie’s ?

  Me: Nope. I can give you a ride anywhere but there .

  Reece: Fine. You can drop me off at the corner of the street she lives on .

  My jaw ticks as I hop into my car. Gabbie has been Reece’s on-again, off-again girlfriend for three years. The girl is a real piece of work. She walks all over Reece. The sad part is, he allows it. I swear he’s addicted to getting treated like shit or something .

  That doesn’t mean I’m going to be an enabler .

  Me: I’m not dropping you off within a five-mile radius of her house .

  Reece: Fine. Just drop me off at my place then .

  Me: All right. Meet you at my car. It’s parked at the back of the parking lot, near the trees .

  Ten minutes later, Reece finally slides into the passenger seat .

  “Sorry it took me so long,” he says. “I ran into a girl .”

  “A girl you like?” God, please let that be the case. Please say he’s moving on from Gabbie .

  He shakes his head as he reaches for the seatbelt. “I mean, yeah, she’s hot and everything. Gorgeous, for sure. But that’s not why I was talking to her.” He fastens the seatbelt. “There was this asshole who was getting rough with her, so I intervened. I tried to get her to report him to the office, but she seemed scared. I gave her my number. And the number to Ander’s place. Hopefully, she’ll sign up for some classes .”

  I pat his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Reece .”

  He grimaces. “I’m not a kid anymore. And I really wish you guys would stop treating me like one.” His eyes suddenly light up as his gaze travels to the windshield. “Hey, there’s the girl .”

  I track his gaze, confusion winding through me. “The girl you helped is Wynter Porterrsen ?”

  What the fuck are the odds ?

  He nods, straightening in his seat. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she ?”

  “Yeah, she is.” The words fall off my tongue easily because Wynter is gorgeous. And sad. And scared. And I seriously just want to help her .

  “Who was the guy harassing her?” I ask as I watch Wynter walk toward her car and toss her books into the back seat .

  Reece fiddles with the air conditioning. “I think he’s, like, the quarterback here or something. And a total asshole.” He sinks back in his seat. “I think that’s part of the reason Wynter wouldn’t report him—because of who he is.” He shakes his head. “This town is so damn annoying sometimes. All you have to do is have the right name and you’re practically viewed as some god or something. It’s why I was never able to get on the football team in high school. Why I got suspended three times for stuff I didn’t do. All one of those rich douchebags had to do was blame the kid who didn’t have a daddy or mommy leaking money out of their asses and everyone believed them .”

  Reece is right. Growing up in this town, we had a rough life. It didn’t help that both our parents put us in a prep school for reasons I still can’t comprehend. We were basically the only lower-class students there, and we were reminded of that every single day .

  “We should help her,” Reece abruptly announces, unfastening his seatbelt .

  “Huh?” I blink from memory lane and discover that Wynter has popped the hood of her car and is cursing like a sailor as she stares at the engine .

  “Come on; let’s go help her out.” Reece jumps out of the car before I can protest. Not that I don’t want to help Wynter. I just worry the more I’m around her, the greater the risk I have for blowing my cover .

  Then Reece approaches her, and she stares up at him with those big, beautiful eyes of hers, like she did to me last night, and I suddenly can barely catch my breath .

  I’m a goner .

  Knowing I’ll probably regret this later, I get out of the car and smile at her as I stroll up. “ Need help ?”

  She glances from Reece to me then shakes her head. “I already have help.” She gestures at Reece .

  Reece trades an amused look with me then glances at Wynter. “Not a fan of Everette , huh ?”

  She shakes her head, her brows furrowing. “Wait. Do you guys know each other ?”

  Reece’s amusement grows. “Yeah, this shithead over here is my friend.” When her lips form an O, Reece grins. “You definitely don’t like him, do you ?”

  “No, I do … I mean, I don’t really know him …” She sighs heavily. “No, I think I like him.” She meets my gaze. “Sort of, anyway .”

  If it weren’t for the fact that her eyes look so hollow, I’d probably smile. She must see my worry because she slams the hood of her car and moves to hop inside .

  “I’ll see you guys around,” she mutters as she yanks open the door. When she slides into the driver’s seat, though, she doesn’t start up the engine. She simply sits there, staring out the windshield .

  I trade a glance with Reece, who shrugs with uncer
tainty .

  What should I do ?

  Help her ?

  Walk away ?

  Help ?

  Walk ?

  Leave ?

  Just like I left my father the day he died .

  I’m about to pull open the door when Wynter abruptly lowers her head and starts to sob. Suddenly, I’m moving swiftly, yanking open the door and crouching beside her .

  “Wynter …” My voice is soft, cautious, and the sound seems to magnetize her, drawing her toward me .

  She buries her face in my shoulder, clutching the bottom of my shirt as she breaks the fuck apart. Just like I did once .

  I trade a look with Reece, who’s taking in the scene with wide, worry-filled eyes. “What should we do? ” he mouths .

  I shrug, wrapping my arms around Wynter .

  The last time I watched someone break apart like this, besides myself, was my father. He broke down because of something that had happened with one of his cases, something awful that I still haven’t figured out yet, but I know it had to do with Travis’s father, along with a handful of other families in Fairs Hollow .

  After he had the breakdown, I left him at the house to go to work .

  Deep in the back of my mind, I didn’t want to leave him, but I ignored the voice and the worry and left. When I returned home, he was gone .

  The report said he’d taken his own life, and while part of me believes that could be true, another part of me wonders if something else happened. If the wrong person had found out he was working undercover. He had been so upset that day, but also scared, although he wouldn’t admit it .

  Whatever the reason behind his death, he might have been alive if I hadn’t left him that day .

  “It’s going to be okay,” I promise Wynter, smoothing my hand up and down her back .

  She cries harder, clutching on to me for dear life .

  As a group of people wander by, gawking at us, Reece says, “We should get her out of here; take her someplace quiet or something .”

  Nodding, I help Wynter to her feet and slip an arm around her back. She leans into me, pressing her face against my chest. Her tears soak my shirt, seeping through the fabric and onto my chest, all the way to my heart. I wrap my arm tighter around her .