The flame was slow, almost deliberate. It ate into the letter, blackening the edges. The pages curled in the heat. The letters swam in front of his eyes, nothing more than meaningless black crawls. None of her words meant anything now; everything she’d told him over all these years had added up to nothing but lies.
For a moment, Adam was tempted to stick his hand in the flame. Maybe a physical pain, torn and blistering flesh, would steal his attention from the other, deeper pain that refused to go away. But he kept his hand still. And the letter burned.
I’ll keep apologizing until you hear me. Until I can make you understand. I can be a better person. I can be anyone you need me to be. But I can’t do it without you.
The letter was almost fully consumed. Adam was getting cold, and knew he could stop now, stomp out the fire, and leave the remaining fragments for the animals and the elements.
But he waited, and the fire burned on.
I miss you—don’t you miss me?
And on.
I need you. We need each other.
And on.
Please.
And then there was just one smoldering fragment left, curling into the flame.
Love forever,
Harper
Adam stamped out the glowing pile of ashes and walked away.
chapter
2
Beth held herself perfectly still, hoping he would change his mind and disappear. She didn’t want to have to speak, but doubted she’d be able to force herself to stay silent. She didn’t want to cry, or give him any indication whatsoever that she still cared, because, of course, she did. And more than anything, she wanted to stop.
“Hi,” Adam said softly, sliding into the empty seat to her left.
If only the assembly would begin. Then there would be no chance for conversation, and Beth could pretend he wasn’t there.
She hadn’t looked in his direction yet, but she’d felt him hovering, wondering whether or not to sit down. Despite everything he’d done, it was as if a part of them was still connected. And maybe that was why she couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, longing to smooth down the windblown tufts of blond hair.
With a few words, she could have him back. “I forgive you.” That s all it would take, and she could curl up against him again, his arms warm and strong around her. She could be a “we” again.
But she’d promised herself she would never forgive him—and unlike Adam, she kept her promises.
“You’re not going to talk to me?” he asked.
Let him figure that one out for himself.
“At least look at me!”
Her lip trembled. I will not cry, she told herself.
“Fine,” he spit out. She could tell he was struggling against his temper. “Then just listen.” It’s not like she had much of a choice—but it was a long time before he spoke again.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he whispered as he reached for her hand. She whipped it away, afraid that if she let him touch her, or if she looked into his clear blue eyes, her anger might drain away.
She willed the principal to take the stage and begin the assembly; it was her only escape.
“What do you want from me?” Adam pleaded. “I said I’m sorry. I told you it wasn’t my fault—”
“And whose fault was it?” she snapped. This was good. The more he denied, the more he evaded his responsibility, avoided how much he’d hurt her, the angrier she got. And that made things so much easier.
“Kanes,” he pleaded. “Kaia’s … Harper’s”
Beth flinched at the name. It was true, Harper had manipulated him—Adam had just been stupid enough to let her. It was Harper who’d convinced Adam that Beth was cheating on him. Harper who’d enlisted Kane to prey on Beth’s weakness and dupe her into a relationship based on lies. And, of course, it was Harper who’d swooped in to collect her prize—Adam—after he’d dumped Beth.
But even Harper couldn’t be blamed for the most painful betrayal of all. No one had forced Adam to sleep with Kaia. He had no excuse—he and Beth had been together, they’d been happy, and he’d knowingly destroyed it in one stupid night.
“Is that supposed to fix everything?” she finally asked. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“I don’t know. I just … I wanted you to know that I’m … I mean, if we could just—” He suddenly stopped, and then she did turn to face him. He was doubled over in his seat, his head plunged into his hands.
“Just stop,” she begged, forcing herself not to lay her hand against his broad back.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I still love you.”
He said it in a pained, strangled voice, without lifting his head. Beth didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Once, those words had been able to fix anything. Now they just left her feeling emptier than before.
“I love you,” he said again.
And now Beth did something she’d once vowed never to do, not to Adam.
“I don’t care.”
She lied.
In the old days, Miranda and Harper would have skipped the assembly, taking it as a good excuse to sneak off to the parking lot for a smoke-and-bitch session about their least favorite people (Meaning: 90 percent of the student body).
But these weren’t the old days. Too bad Harper didn’t seem to notice.
“Rand, let’s get out of here, what do you say?”
Harper had popped up from behind her seat, and Miranda stifled the impulse to swat her away like a mosquito she’d just caught draining her blood.
“I’d say forget it,” she replied wearily, wishing she had the discipline to keep her mouth shut. The silent treatment had never been her thing. It was hard enough to just stand her ground with Harper—she’d been forgiving her for years, like a bad habit. But this time …
All she had to do was picture Kane—his tall, lean body, his knowing grin, his silky voice—and after all those years of fantasizing, his image sprang easily to mind. As did the echo of Harper’s promise: “You and Kane—it’s a done deal. I swear.”
And what had she done instead? Pushed him on Beth, all to serve her own agenda. It was all about Harper, and always had been.
Harper couldn’t even be bothered to deliver a real apology. Sure, she’d groveled for a couple days, but when Miranda stood firm, she’d resorted to a bravado that was as insulting as it was ineffective. Miranda could barely stand to watch her, putting on this gruesome show as if nothing had ever happened.
“Go find someone else to screw over,” Miranda snapped. “I’m done.”
“That’s great,” Harper said. “Very nice way to treat your best friend. What ever happened to ‘forgive and forget’?”
“Not my style,” Miranda muttered.
“Right—as if you have any style.”
Inside, Miranda cringed, and glanced down at her outfit, a plain white T-shirt and cheap Wal-Mart jeans. Same as yesterday, same as the day before. Five years as sidekick to Haven s alpha girl and Miranda had somehow remained, to the end, cool by association, and association only. But Harper had never before flung the bitter truth in her face.
“I’d rather have no style than no class,” Miranda replied pointedly. Harper wanted to jab at a soft spot? Two could play that game. And Harper, who still longed for the days when her family had ruled the town, and still chafed at the humiliating turn the Graces had taken, from princely robber barons to penny-pinching dry cleaners—Harper was nothing if not class conscious.
“I have more class—”
“All you’ve got,” Miranda interrupted, “is a reputation. For now.”
“Is that a threat?” Harper sneered, and for the first time, Miranda knew how it felt to be on the other end of Harper’s poisonous gaze. But it only strengthened her resolve. She’d been wondering whether the little revenge plot hatched with Beth was too much, had gone too far—what a waste of worry. Obviously,
Harper had put their friendship behind her. Miranda could—and would—do the same.
“Give me a break,” Harper continued, rolling her eyes. “As if anyone in this school would listen to anything you have to say.”
Oh, they would listen.
And then Harper would pay.
“I’m proud and pleased today to make a supremely important announcement that will affect all of you in the student body of our fair Haven High.”
Kaia wasn’t paying much attention to the principal and her pompous speech. Principals were always going on about “supremely important”—aka supremely irrelevant—announcements. It was part of the job description, and Kaia was content to hold up the students’ end of the bargain: ignoring every word that came out of the principal’s mouth.
But today she was putting on a good show of listening raptly—it was the best way to avoid Jack Powell’s wandering eye.
“I have just learned that Haven High will be receiving a great honor. The governor of the esteemed state of California is setting off on a tour of the region’s finest educational institutions, and he has decided to visit Haven High! Yes, the governor himself is arriving in two weeks for a personal inspection of our facilities.”
Kaia would have snorted, were it ladylike to do so. The only state inspection this place deserved was the one that would condemn it. Peeling paint, creaky stairs, the mysterious stench that refused to dissipate—Haven High was a toxic waste dump masquerading as a high school.
With a few shining exceptions …
He was startlingly handsome, she’d give him that, she thought, watching Powell mingle with his balding, paunchy, middle-aged coworkers. He didn’t belong here, not with his rakish smile, thick, wavy, chestnut hair, that arrogant smile and Jude Law accent. It had been such a turn-on, watching the other girls pathetically slobbering over him, and knowing that she was the one he’d chosen. Although technically, she’d chosen him—and, with a little prodding, he’d finally embraced his good fortune.
“In honor of the governor’s arrival, one senior will be chosen by his or her peers to represent our fine school. He or she will deliver a speech on the subject of education—and I know he or she will do us all proud.”
Kaia was proud of her catch, and would have loved to put it on display. But Jack Powell’s policy was strict and unforgiving: In public, they ignored each other, without exception.
And yet, there he was, twenty rows ahead, craning his neck around and obviously searching for something—for Kaia. The irritated expression on his haughty face gave it away. She knew he hated the idea of chasing after anyone, but apparently he’d overcome his aversion: He’d left four messages on her voice mail since she’d ditched out on their last rendezvous, each one more incensed than the last.
“In preparation for the governor’s arrival, I will be instituting a no-tolerance policy for all violations of school regulations. I expect you all will honor the rules as you always have, and not embarrass the administration or yourselves through any juvenile misbehavior.”
Kaia, on the other hand, had always enjoyed the hunt. Extra points if she could break some rules in the process. Powell had been a special challenge, a cold, aloof trophy, whose acquisition had been fraught with the potential for scandal. Who’d have thought she be bored so quickly, willing to trade it all in for a greasy slacker in torn jeans, who reeked of pot and mediocrity?
“I look forward to reading your submitted speeches, and I know all of you at Haven High will look forward to this opportunity to shine for our state leadership.You’ll do me, and yourselves, proud.”
As the principal stepped down to a smattering of lackluster applause, Kaia grabbed her bag and slipped out the back of the auditorium. She knew Powell would never dare confront her on school grounds, much less in front of his boss—but why take a chance? She hadn’t decided quite what to do with him yet, and didn’t want to be forced into a decision. If the Reed thing blew over, it would be nice to have Powell ready and waiting on the back burner.
And if not … she’d let him down in her own time, and her own way. Gently.
Or, come to think of it, maybe not. After all, he liked it rough.
When the assembly ended, Beth zoned out for a moment, allowing herself to hope that her luck was about to change. If she was selected to deliver the speech to the governor, it could bulk up her college applications, and maybe even make up for her dismal SAT scores.
It was the first good news she’d gotten in weeks, and it gave her the strength to think about the future. She had to find a way to rebuild her life, without some guy to lean on. She’d done it before, but the prospect was still terrifying. Now, with this little kernel of confidence growing inside of her, maybe it was time to take the first step.
As the students filtered out of the auditorium, she followed a few feet behind a quiet, nondescript group of girls, careful not to let them notice her—but almost hoping they would. At least that would take the decision out of her hands.
She’d put this off for as long as she could, but being alone was just too hard. Miranda was useful, but she wasn’t a friend. Adam had been a friend. As had the rest of his crowd, she’d thought, all the guys on the team, their girlfriends. Turns out, it was a package deal. Lose Adam, lose them all.
“Hey, guys. What’s up?” She tried to make her voice sound nonchalant, smiling as if it had been only days since she’d last spoken to them and not—had it been weeks? Months?
“Beth?” Claire spoke first, as she always did. The other girls just stared at her with a mixture of hostility and confusion Beth recognized instantly. It was the look Beth had always flashed when one of the Haven elite had deigned to speak to her, inevitably with some kind of demand disguised as a not-so-polite request: Let me borrow your history notes. Let me copy your physics homework. Let me have the key to the newspaper office so I can hook up with my boyfriend. Those people only talked to you when they needed you, she and her friends had agreed. Those people. She’d never imagined that she would be one of them.
“What do you want?” Claire added, already half turned away.
“I just thought—” Beth hesitated. What did she want? To go back in time? Back before she’d skipped Claire’s Halloween party, to hang with her boyfriend, before she’d partnered up with Adam on the American history project, leaving Abbie to fend for herself? Before she’d abandoned their lunch table, skipped the annual anti-Valentine’s Day moviefest, forgotten Claire s birthday even though they’d celebrated it together since sixth grade? “I thought maybe we could …” But she couldn’t make herself finish the thought.
“Is it true you broke up with Adam because he slept with someone else?” Abbie suddenly asked. Beth took a sharp breath, and her eyes met Claire’s briefly—she looked equally shocked. Then Claire looked away.
“That’s so rude,” Claire snapped at Abbie, who, Beth remembered, always did what Claire told her to. “You can’t just ask incredibly personal questions like that to someone you barely know.”
Beth had known Abbie since they were parked in neighboring strollers at the Sun ’n’ Fun Day Care Center fifteen years ago, and Claire knew it.
“That’s okay,” Beth mumbled. “I don’t mind talking about it.” A lie.
“I heard you dumped him for Kane,” another girl piped up. She had mousy brown hair and a hideous orange sweater. My replacement? Beth wondered.
“No, she dumped him, too,” Abbie corrected her, then looked over at Beth. “Uh, right?”
“I can tell you guys about it at lunch today,” Beth offered tentatively. “If you want.”
“We don’t want to bother you—” Claire began.
“Awesome,” Abbie and the mousy girl chorused over her. “We’ll see you then.”
Beth sighed, hoping Claire’s frosty attitude would thaw by the time they hit the cafeteria. Otherwise, it was going to be a long and painful hour, rehashing her failed love life while squirming under Claire’s hostile glare.
It wouldn’t d
o much for Beth’s appetite.
But then, neither would eating alone.
“Don’t do that, Kane, it tickles!”
Ignoring her pleas, Kane picked up the wriggling brunette and hoisted her over his shoulder as she kicked her legs with mock distress.
“Put her down, Kane!” her little friend, a dainty redhead, shrieked. Kane knew it was only because she was eager for her turn.
“Calm down, ladies,” he urged them, depositing the brunette back on the ground. He slung an arm around each of them, admiring the way his muscles bulged beneath his tight sleeves. The new weights were working already. “You know you love it.”
“Whatever.” The brunette giggled, shoving him. Once their bodies made contact, she didn’t pull away.
“Say what you want,” he allowed, “but I know you’re thrilled to have me back on the market.”
The redhead—or, more accurately, the airhead—stood on her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I just don’t know why you stayed away for so long,” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck.
Good question.
“So what happened?” the brunette asked, tickling the back of his neck. He jerked away. “We thought you were reformed.”
“Player no more,” her friend chimed in. “Beauty tamed the beast. What gives?”
So what now, the truth?
Right.
Like he’d ever admit that he’d been the one rejected by a nonentity like Beth, or that losing her had cost him something more than his reputation. He knew that with a few easy words he could turn this around and make it into a win, trashing Beth’s rep and redeeming his own.
But he couldn’t do it.
He had no regrets, he insisted to himself. He’d just done what was needed to get what he wanted, same as always. Beth was a big girl who could make her own choices-and, if only briefly, she’d chosen him. “You can’t fool me,” she’d said once, kissing him on the cheek. “I know who you really are.”
He’d almost been sorry to prove her wrong.
Wrath (Seven Deadly Sins (Simon Pulse)) Page 2
