Thank you for telling me. I’ll give you an alibi. But I expect a full and detailed report tonight.
I pulled up to the curb at the east entrance just as Donna slipped out the door. This was where the younger students were picked up and dropped off by their parents, nannies, and drivers. The area was packed with Escalades, Audis, and BMWs in the morning and the afternoon, but it was deserted as Donna rushed down the stairs.
I expected her to lean through the window, demand her underwear, maybe sic the football team on me. But she surprised me by jumping into the passenger seat immediately and throwing her designer backpack into the back seat.
“Drive,” she demanded as she put her belt on. “Your tree-hugging car’s windows are not tinted. The last thing I fucking need is to be caught skipping class with the likes of you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I let the dig slide and took off.
The drive was surprisingly uneventful. Resigned to her fate, Donna jammed her black sunglasses on and remained silent as I tried to figure out where to take us.
When all else fails—comfort food.
I took us to a fast food drive-through, and after a half-hearted argument about how she couldn’t eat that crap, Donna rolled her eyes and got the same thing I did. Cheeseburgers and milkshakes in tow, I pulled back onto the road.
“Should’ve got some chickie nuggies as well,” Donna mumbled, her head buried in the paper bag.
“Chickie nuggies?” I grinned. She was fucking adorable, with her delicate, manicured fingers stuffing several fries into her mouth at the same time.
“Shut up.” She laughed around a mouthful and shoved some fries into my mouth too. I gave her finger a nibble before she could pull her hand out of reach, and she smacked me on the shoulder. “That’s what my sister calls them. She’s got us all saying it now.”
“It’s cute. More fries,” I demanded and opened my mouth wide, angling my head in her direction but keeping my eyes on the road.
“Fuck you. I’m not cute,” she protested but deposited the salty, potatoey goodness into my mouth anyway. “Where are we going?”
“Ah, good question. Very deep. So many answers.” I nodded and opened my mouth again.
She rolled her eyes and shoved more fries in my face. “I meant physically, like, right now, in this car, where are we going? Not existentially, smart-ass.”
“Hmm. How about . . .” We were well out of downtown Devilbend, the buildings thinning out, the speed limits rising. A sign for a turnoff caught my eye. “Oak Hill Park?”
The turn came up before she could answer, and I took it, but Donna remained silent beside me. We followed signs for the parking lot, intermittent sunlight shining down through the thick canopy of trees.
Unsurprisingly for a Thursday afternoon, the lot was mostly empty, no tourists or hikers in sight.
Donna turned to me as I cut the engine, her hands digging into the top of the paper bag. “I’m not getting out of this car or handing over your greasy burger until you give me back my underwear.”
I pursed my lips to stop myself from smiling. We both knew I could overpower her if I really wanted to.
Reaching into my pocket, I fished out the small piece of cotton and handed it over. She deposited the takeout bag in my lap and pulled her panties up, shimmying into them under her skirt, then promptly got out of the car.
I followed her up the grassy hill to a nearby picnic table. The sun was coming and going behind grayish clouds—the kind that threatened rain but were just as likely to float away before a single drop reached the ground. It was fresh out here, the air chilly whenever the sun disappeared, and I was glad I’d made her bring her coat.
We settled onto the top of the table, our feet propped up on the seat. As we started to unwrap the burgers, Donna hesitated and looked around.
“Something messed up happened to Mena and Turner here,” she said before taking a bite.
I paused with my burger halfway to my mouth and looked at her. “Do you want to leave?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” She shook her head. “I just realized where we are, that’s all. Being reminded of what went down a few months ago just makes me angry every time.”
“What happened?”
“Uh . . .” She picked at her burger. “It’s not really my story to tell.”
She was loyal and fearless—a fucking lioness personified. I took a few bites of my burger to avoid staring at her. “Does it have anything to do with how Turner reconnected with his little sister?”
I’d been training with Turner a few times a week since I joined the gym, and we’d hung out plenty. He’d told me most of how his mom and sister disappeared a few years back and how he and his dad had been searching for them, only to find his sister here in Devilbend and his mom murdered. He had a bit of a conspiracy-theorist streak, convinced that BestLyf—some corporate life-coaching company—was behind it all, but he was a really cool guy otherwise.
Donna’s eyebrows rose slightly. “He told you that?”
“Yeah. That’s what being friends with someone entails. You tell them things about yourself. Sometimes the things aren’t very pretty.”
She ignored that, and we ate in silence, listening to the birds chirping in the tall trees, the occasional gust of wind rustling the branches.
When there was nothing left to occupy our mouths, I turned to face her, lifting one knee onto the table.
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Please, Hendrix, don’t start with trying to figure out my deep dark secrets again. We had amazing sex during a school assembly and got away with it. We’re actually getting along. Can’t we just leave it at that?”
“If what happened between us had been just sex, yeah.”
“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings now. I have enough shit to deal with.”
She was going back to her defensive default, because that’s what she always did when shit got hard or confronting. Did I have feelings for her? Fuck me, but yeah, I was probably getting there. But this wasn’t about that.
“I’m not trying to put a ring on it, you psycho.” If combative snark was the only language she could understand, then that’s what I’d speak. “I’m talking about the desperate way you looked at me in the auditorium, the shit you told me about your early acceptance and how it made you feel like the roof was caving in, the fact that you go to Davey’s and fuck dangerous men as a way to release the insane amount of pressure you feel every single day.”
She blinked at me once, twice, not saying anything as her brows knitted. She was a smart girl, smarter than me, probably smarter than half the teachers at our school—surely she wasn’t surprised that I’d figured her out.
“I don’t know why I told you that earlier.” She pursed her lips.
“Because on some level, you know that I get it. I may not understand feeling deflated after achieving a massive thing, but I definitely get feeling like the entire world is collapsing on top of you. I’ve been there.”
“Will you tell me about it?” she asked, her eyes going a little wide. Was she scared? Deflecting?
“We’re talking about you right now.” OK, maybe I was deflecting too.
“Isn’t that what being friends with someone means? Telling them things about yourself that aren’t very pretty?” She threw my own words back at me.
“Is that what we are now? Friends?”
She sighed and ran her hands through her hair, pulling at it a little. “I don’t know what we are.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter right now whether or not we’re friends. But you do have some actual, bona fide, ride-or-die kind of friends in those chicks—the ones you keep posting pics of with hashtag DevilbendDynasty.” I’d witnessed firsthand how close they were, how they defended one another, took care of one another. Their friendship was real, not shallow and on the verge of backstabbing like so many rich, popular girls at my old school. “Why haven’t you told t
hem about any of it?”
“They . . . I . . . the thing is, we really are ride-or-die, as idiotic as that phrase sometimes sounds.” She rolled her eyes. “But they’d try to talk me out of it, and when that failed, they’d go with me. Even Mena, who’s had more than her fair share of violence, would risk getting hurt. I can’t do that to them. This is my shit. My damage to deal with.” Alone. She didn’t say it, but the implication was there. This was something she felt she had to handle alone.
I dropped that topic before we started arguing again. “OK, then will you tell them about your early acceptance?”
“Yeah.” She leaned back on her hands, turning her face up to the sun. It was likely to disappear behind a cloud again at any moment. “They’ll be happy for me, proud of me.”
“No doubt. It’s an amazing achievement. But that’s not what I meant. Are you going to tell them you don’t want it?”
She sat up straight and narrowed her eyes on me. “What makes you think I don’t want it? I busted my fucking ass for that.”
I didn’t say anything. I just watched her steadily. That was a knee-jerk reaction—the response she’d conditioned herself to have. But we both knew what she’d said to me in that dark little room, and I’d seen that panicked look in her eyes in the auditorium.
After a few moments, she got to her feet. Her eyes darted from left to right, distant and unseeing, as she chewed on her bottom lip.
“Your friends and family love you and support you,” I said. It was more than I could say about my own, but I pushed that stabbing pain away for the moment. “They’ll understand. Just tell them you don’t want to be a lawyer anymore.”
Her gaze shot up. “Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what I do and don’t want? You have no idea what you’re talking about. I can’t just change my mind.”
“Why?” I leaned my elbows on my knees, fixing her with a challenging look. The sun disappeared behind a fat cloud. “You’re eighteen, your whole future in front of you. You have every privilege, every opportunity imaginable. You can literally do whatever the fuck you want, and you’re going to force yourself to follow a path that’s clearly suffocating you?” Did I resent all this? Maybe a little. But I’d also put myself in this situation where my own future was tenuous, so I didn’t really have a right to be upset. I deserved much worse.
“Fuck you, Hendrix. It’s not that simple. I have plans. People expect certain things from me. I’ve put in so much work for this. I . . . it’s . . . you . . . ugh!” She turned away in a huff, breathing hard.
“It’s not worth it, Donna. Trust me. Life’s too damn short.” My hands clenched into fists, and I forced myself to release them. This conversation was making me frustrated and angry too.
She spun to face me once more, her hair flipping. “What would you know about it? God, why do you care? Just leave me alone.”
I didn’t exactly make the decision to tell her my deepest darkest secret, but the conversation had descended into another fight, and I was getting nowhere. She’d shared something pretty big with me in that dark little room—a truth she’d probably never even spoken aloud. Baring my soul to her, even in desperation and anger, almost came naturally.
I pushed off the bench, the nervous energy making it impossible to sit still, and spread my arms wide.
“I fucking killed someone!” I yelled, my horrific truth bouncing off the ancient trees in the park.
Chapter Twenty-One
Donna
I stared at him as his words settled into the cold earth at my feet.
The logical part of my brain was questioning if I should be afraid. He’d been popping up wherever I went, had been demanding to know things about me, had driven me out to a deserted park alone, and then said . . . he told me . . .
I fucking killed someone.
. . . killed someone.
. . . killed . . .
Even as I wondered if I was safe with Hendrix, I struggled to accept the truth of those words. Maybe I hadn’t heard him right.
“I’m sorry, what?” I tried to swallow, but my throat was so dry, so tight.
And yet I wasn’t running from him; my body wasn’t poised to defend itself. Yes, my logical mind had raised all the obvious alarms, but in my gut I knew. Hendrix would never hurt me. Not like that. He wasn’t a threat to my physical safety—just my sanity.
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then released a massive sigh as he collapsed onto the bench, his body sagging as if he hadn’t slept in a month. “I’m sorry for just dropping that on you like that. I didn’t mean to . . . I never wanted anyone to know, but I need you to understand the whole, abhorrent truth about me—what I am.”
“You’re scaring me.” I wrapped my arms around my middle, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. I didn’t mean I was worried he’d try to kill me—the very conversation was frightening. I was scared of what he was about to tell me, what it would change. For him, for me. For this thing between us.
But of course, he took my words wrong. He hadn’t looked at me since he’d blurted out his confession, and he still didn’t look at me as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys.
“I won’t hurt you. I’d rather die than ever hurt another person, especially you. Take the keys. Leave if you need to. I get it.” He tossed them onto the corner of the picnic table closest to where I was standing.
I hardly even glanced at them. “Hendrix, tell me what happened.” I didn’t want to know, but I had to know.
He swallowed and released another big breath, his lips trembling. “Back in New York, I told you the kind of school I went to, the kind of people I hung out with. We got away with so much because our parents were so influential. The teachers were too afraid to discipline us. We all thought we were untouchable, invincible. But we all had this . . . ” He shook his head. “. . . this restlessness. Me most of all. Something inside me was constantly screaming and thrashing, and the only time it would quiet down was when I was driving my fist through something. Or someone. Those guys and I, we started getting into fights. At first it was against each other, betting obscene amounts of money on the outcome. Eventually we started hanging out with people who were intimately acquainted with the darker side of the city—people who were more than willing to take our money and hook us up with other sad fuckers looking to beat the shit out of anyone.”
He stared at the ground beneath his feet and opened his mouth a few times, but he couldn’t seem to get the next words out.
That restlessness he described, the screaming on the inside—I felt that in my bones. I moved forward to stand directly in front of him, and that seemed to snap him out of his inability to speak.
“There was this guy at my school.” He leaned back against the picnic table, his hands hanging between his knees. “He wasn’t like us. He wasn’t rich, didn’t walk around like the world owed him something. The school was bigger than Fulton, more students. I didn’t know everyone, hardly cared enough to know my so-called friends. Anyway, there were several scholarship students and . . .” He choked, his lip trembling again. “Austin was one of them. We used to get into it sometimes. He had his own group of friends—we didn’t move in the same circles—but he wasn’t scared of me like almost everyone else. He always had a comeback to any bullshit taunt we threw his way, and he never seemed bothered by it. Like he knew he was smarter than all of us combined, and we wouldn’t matter in a couple more months. He was probably going to cure cancer or some shit. It had never gotten physical between us. The guys and I, we kept the fights discreet, off school property. We may not have cared about punishments from teachers, but we sure as fuck cared about pissing off our parents.
“The thing is, I’d been getting less and less capable of holding back that restless fury—that thing that writhed inside me all the time and was only silent when I was hurting, or hurting someone else. The most fucked-up thing is that I don’t even remember what led up to it. It was after school, the guys and I had just walked
around the corner, Austin was there, and one of my friends said something to him. Austin shot a comment back. I have no idea what it was, but it enraged me. I let it bring that monster out. I didn’t care that we were in public, in our school uniforms, with teachers just around the corner. I just lost my shit.”
He paused and looked up to the sky. Tears slid down the sides of his face, but he didn’t try to wipe them away.
For the first time since he’d started talking, he looked at me. Each word that followed was a struggle, forcing its way up his throat. “I threw a punch that landed on his jaw. He wasn’t expecting it and lost his balance, fell backward, hit his head on the pavement. He never got up again.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed, wrapping a hand around my throat. My own eyes were stinging.
His gaze was intense, as if now that he was finally looking at me, he refused to let me go until I saw all his twisted insides. “I killed him, Donna. Me. I did that.”
“I . . . wha . . . how long ago was this?” Why hadn’t I seen anything about it in the news? This felt like a big deal. But then I remembered that people died all the time, and usually the rest of the world couldn’t care less.
“Just under a year ago. I was supposed to graduate last year, but I stopped going to school. My parents spent an obscene amount of money and called in many favors to keep me out of prison. They even managed to have me tried as a minor so this wouldn’t be on my permanent record and tarnish my future.” He said those last words with a sneer.
“They were worried about my job prospects and their reputation when Austin didn’t even have . . .” A sob tore free from his chest, and my own tears finally overflowed. “He was an only child, his mom a single parent. They were all each other had. I . . .”
He dropped his head into his hands.
I stepped into his space, between his legs, and gripped his shoulders. My throat was so tight I had to cough before I could speak. “It was an accident, Hendrix. An awful, tragic—”
“No.” He leaned out of my reach. “It was stupidity, it was pride, it was ego, it was not thinking through the consequences of my actions. I was a walking, talking cliché. It could’ve been avoided.”
Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2) Page 19