Did whoever destroy my room have something to do with the article?
By the time the second break-in happened, most of my personal belongings had been tossed. My room is no better than an empty slate at this point. Clothes, some baubles, a few pictures I salvaged and put into frames. If they were looking for more, they didn’t find anything useful.
So what’s the connection?
I don’t have an answer.
Instead, I pack up and head home. The walk home gives me the creeps. I keep my keys between my fingers, hidden in the sleeves of my jacket. My hat is pulled low over my head, covering my ears, and I keep glancing around like someone is going to jump out at me.
Willow has a late dance meeting, so the apartment is dark when I turn up the front walkway.
“Violet.”
I almost jump out of my skin, then focus on the person sitting on my porch steps. They’re no more than a hunched shadow until they rise and push their hood down.
Jack.
Relief goes through me, and I march toward him. I smack his shoulder. “You scared me half to death.”
He chuckles. “Sorry. I tried calling, but it goes straight to voicemail.”
I step past him and unlock my door, flicking on the lights as I go. He follows me in and kicks off his shoes. I pause a beat, then shrug off my coat and toe off my boots.
“It hasn’t rung,” I offer, scrolling through my recent calls. “Not sure what happened.”
He runs his hand through his hair. “Well, I just wanted to offer my support. I know that you might not be getting a lot of that right now…”
“That’s true.” I frown. “One of your football buddies went off on me in the library, actually.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What? Who?”
“Wish I knew.” I sigh. “Actually, it’s probably better that I don’t. Who knew people could be so invested in one guy?”
One popular, hot, charming…
Stop it, brain.
“Well, I’m here to make you feel better.” He steps forward and runs his hands up and down my arms. “Dinner? Movie?”
I take a breath and find myself nodding, although something twists in my belly. I’m not sure why I don’t want to hang out with him—probably because he’s not who I really want here. But who I want is a figment of my imagination. The truce Greyson and I bartered for was temporary. It ended the minute we got back to Crown Point.
So I’m not going to delude myself.
“Sounds good,” I add belatedly.
He flops on the couch and pats the space beside him. “You know,” he says, “if I were you? I’d want to get back at him.”
I raise my eyebrow. “How?”
“I don’t know. Hit him where it hurts. It was clearly Greyson behind it, right? I’ve never liked that guy.” He pats the space again.
I ignore it and sit on the other end of the couch, wrapping my arms around my legs. “Hit him where it hurts? The guy is practically made of armor.”
“You’ve got a point. Not even a defamatory article could bring him down.”
Yeah. That. I think of my list, of the weird things that have been happening since I got back. Maybe it has less to do with Greyson and more to do with me. I’m the vulnerable one.
Either way, I’m not going to solve this mystery tonight.
I settle in and let Jack pick a movie. He orders us food, too, and jumps up to get the door when it arrives. I’m not going to lie… it’s nice to have company. I feel better not being alone in the apartment.
Still, the fact that Jack dropped me so fast after that video went out still stings.
And the worry that he might’ve seen Greyson take the video…
“What’s been up with you since…？” I bite my lip and set down my drink. The pizza is mostly gone, the movie is half over. I didn’t mean to bring up the video, but here we are. He acted so cold outside the dining hall. Hateful, even. And here I am, sitting on my couch with him like everything is fine. It’s not. It’s far from fine. “Actually, Jack, I think you owe me an apology.”
Regret flashes across his face.
We talked briefly after he lashed out at me. But he pretended the whole thing didn’t happen—and now he’s sitting on my couch doing the same thing. It’s not how I want tonight to go. Especially if he’s going to pretend we’re okay.
He twists to face me and takes my hands. “You’re right. I am truly sorry for how I acted after that video was posted. I knew you didn’t have anything to do with it, but Devereux got in my head about it.”
I pause. “What does that mean?”
“Just that he was joking about it to his buddies. He had a good laugh at our expense and kind of blamed it on you…” He shifts.
Jack called me a slut. His apology shouldn’t erase my memory of it.
I pull my hands from his grip and stand. “I’ll be right back.”
What the fuck is happening to me? I lock myself in my bathroom and close my eyes. I shouldn’t do anything with Jack. I shouldn’t even have invited him in… wait, no, I didn’t invite him in. He just… came.
But he is right about one thing. I should hit Greyson where it hurts.
Strike back.
We can’t be together, him and I.
So we may as well be enemies.
The thing is, there’s not much Greyson cares about. Hockey, of course. His friends. Like Willow and me, I doubt they’d be easy to tear apart. But… there is something else.
I splash water on my face and step back into my room. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I grab the doorjamb.
“You okay?”
My head snaps up. Jack sits on the edge of my bed, his gaze steady on me.
“Just dizzy.”
He hums. “Shame.”
“What is?”
He tilts his head. “The movie isn’t over. But maybe we should get you to bed.”
Goosebumps rise on the backs of my arms, and I head for the hall. “It’ll pass.”
“It’ll get worse.” He rises and grabs my forearms as I pass. He grips me just under my elbows, and my knees give out.
I blink, and it feels slow. Like they’re closed a lot longer than they should be.
When I finally force my eyelids open again, we’ve moved closer to the bed.
“What did you do?”
He makes a face. “Nothing you don’t deserve.”
He sets me down on the edge of the bed and waits. The room swims around me, and I brace my hands on my knees. I try to rise again, but my legs aren’t working. It’s like someone detached my head, and I’m floating up into the ceiling. He swings my legs up, setting my head down on my pillow, and pulls out his phone. I blink again and lose precious seconds.
An alarm goes off in my mind.
His phone flashes, the click of the camera loud.
“Hey!” I didn’t say that. And neither did Jack.
He whirls toward the voice.
I push myself up, but my muscles can’t hold. I catch a glimpse of Greyson storming into my bedroom.
He grabs the phone from Jack and glares down at the screen. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Jack sneers. “You’re not the only one who can use her—”
Greyson punches him.