Glass Heart Savage: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Glass Heart Academy Book 1)

by Lindsey Iler

  “You never put your hands on me,” I explain. “Never once, in all of this, with the exception of the time I gave you permission.” I lean forward in a daft attempt to force him to look me in the eye. “You had the opportunity to join the mob, but you never did.”

  He cuts his eyes to the door. The signs of him bolting are there. Bouncing leg, erratic breathing, but most of all, the exposed soul. Boys like Breaker don’t like to be seen.

  “It’s not because these”— he inspects his hands— “aren’t capable of harm, Palmer.”

  “I know.” I force a smile.

  Barrett ‘Breaker’ Davenport is a broken soul, torn between who he wants to be, and who he sometimes becomes. There’s always been something about him that brings comfort and a sense of safety, even on that rooftop. He happened to choose Marek over me, and even as fucked up as it is, I find his loyalty admirable.

  “You aren’t afraid of me,” he states.

  “You made it so I didn’t have to be.” I grab my taco and motion for him to continue eating.

  “I didn’t stop them.” He takes a bite, as if this conversation is completely normal.

  “No, you didn’t, and I intend to hold it against you for a long time.” The laugh that bubbles up from my belly is almost too much. I grab at my stomach, feeling the edges of the bandage under my shirt, and wince from the ache.

  “Are you okay?” He falls to his knees in front of me and lifts my shirt, inspecting the bandage. “We need to get this changed.” With his hand offered, I take it. He leads me to the bathroom and tells me to sit on the toilet lid. He leaves for a second, coming back with the supplies the hospital sent home for me.

  I watch as Breaker sets everything up on the countertop. Memories of Marek take over, and I have to shove them away. When Breaker turns to me, his eyes say it all. I’m here to help. I hold my shirt up, and he peels back the bandage, slowly to insure he doesn’t rip any of the stitches. His fingers are soft and caring, like a brother when his little sister skins her knee on the playground. I try to hold them back, but it’s too late. They’re here, present, proving Weston girls do break.

  “What’s with the tears, sweetheart?” He finishes replacing the dirty bandage and throws it into the garbage pail. He stands to his full height, and overcome by insanity, or maybe fear, I wrap my hands around his waist, hugging his body close to mine. Reluctantly, he does the same, his hands barely registering against my skin. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marek

  Three weeks.

  Do you know how much you can accomplish in five hundred and four hours? What have I done with that time? I’ve won three football games, solidifying our place in the state championship game, finished several tests, completed handfuls of college essays, and barely kept my head above water. I’m fucking drowning.

  None of those things matter. She’s still not talking to me.

  She’s talking to him though.

  “That’s brutal, man.” Dixon slips into the seat across from me.

  I drop my fork to the plate and sit back, watching Breaker and Palmer across the cafeteria. They’ve been inseparable. Luckily, after the first week of her release from the hospital, he stopped staying the night at her dorm. He only gives me what I deserve, which is nothing. I have zero clue as to how she is doing.

  This is the first time she’s stepped foot in here since everything went down. Breaker has taken her lunches to her dorm, or she’s eaten an apple on the way to class. Her absence has helped me hone my stalker skills.

  Palmer’s head falls back as she laughs. The angelic sound reminds me of woven gold until it hits me in the chest. Her hair brushes the blazer of her uniform, and she swoops it to the side, tying it up into a braid. What I wouldn’t give to hear her say my name again. At least then I’d know she remembers I exist.

  Breaker has made it clear that I need to give her space. Three weeks is too long to allow my best friend to do things that I should be doing.

  “Breaker told me she’s not afraid of him,” Dixon whispers. “We all put our hands on her, some of us more than others”— he drops his head— “but not him. He kept his hands clean.”

  “And ours are bloody.” I take a deep breath. “What’s up with you, man?” I shake my head, trying to pull myself away from Palmer.

  “I’m dealing.” He shrugs. He and I both know he’s not dealing with anything. Deflections is this kid’s middle name.

  Not that I blame him for it.

  We’ve had some time to step back, to see what we did. Sometimes, no matter what the motivation is, actions can never be justified. We fucked up, plain and simple, and now we get to deal with the consequences.

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” I stand when I see Palmer and Breaker heading out of the cafeteria. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He cups his head in his hands and settles into his pain. There’s nothing I can do for him right now. Until he is ready to face it, he’s going to have to wallow in it for a little while longer.

  I push out the side doors of the cafeteria. The air is cold, but the snow has held off. Our luck is running out, though. It won’t be long until the campus is covered in a thick layer.

  “Hey.” I walk up to them.

  Breaker stands guard in front of Palmer as she ties her shoe. At my voice, she freezes, then stands, inspecting me. Her eyes bulge as she takes me in.

  “Hey, man, what’s going on?” Breaker glares at me. I made him a promise, and now I’m severing it.

  “I was wondering if I could walk you to class.” My words are directed right at her. She cuts her eyes to Breaker, a message passing between them. “Since when do you have to ask him permission?”

  “You don’t have to,” Breaker states.

  “Whose side are you on, asshole?” I ask, taking a step towards him. My patience is running fucking thin with this guy.

  “Yours. I’m on yours.” Breaker erratically points at me, forcing me backwards. “Always have been, douchebag, but I’m also on hers.” He rolls his eyes over to Palmer, and she laughs. “You don’t have to talk to him, not yet, if you don’t want to, and you”— he glares at me over his shoulder— “it’s about damn time.”

  Breaker storms off, and I would think he’s mad if it wasn’t for the stupid grin on his face. I pick up Palmer’s backpack and sling it over my shoulder. She follows my lead, falling into step beside me. We have eyes on us as we make our way through campus. It’s something I’ve grown used to since freshman year when I no longer could stay invisible.

  “They’ve all backed off. Everything is back to what it was before. I’m invisible,” Palmer whispers. “Let me guess, you played a hand in that?”

  “You can say that.” I tuck my hands into my pants pockets, forcing myself to stare straight ahead and not look at her.

  “If you’re expecting a thank you, then you can fuck right off.”

  I shouldn’t laugh, but I fucking do. This right here is one of the reasons why I fell for Palmer in the first place. She’s a snarly attitude attached to a pretty face.

  “We’re still doing this then?” I jump in front of her, blocking the path. She tries to sidestep me but fails. “You want to hate me forever, Palmer, is that it?”

  “As if I don’t have a reason to.” Her flat palms slam into my chest. I’m unmoving. My hands wrap lightly around her wrists, and she tugs. “Please, let go of me.”

  “Fine.” I release her. “But you need to know, the fact that my actions caused you any hurt, kills me, Palmer. The intimidation was all a lie. Everything else, it was me.”

  “If you think that makes it any better, you’re an even bigger asshole than I thought,” she groans. “What is with you boys, thinking because you say I’m sorry it makes it all go away?”

  “Then how come you’ve forgiven Breaker?”

  “Because I didn’t care for him like I cared for you, Marek.” Her eyes narrow, and her bro
ws furrow. “Are you that dense, that you didn’t even notice how deep you burrowed under my skin, even when you were pretending to hate me?”

  “No, I’m not that dense.”

  “It’s taken me so long to put my mind at rest, to understand that horrible things happen to relatively good people, but no matter how hard I try, this part of me always felt in limbo between grieving her and an urgency to fill this void she left.” She shrugs, uncertainty masking her face. “I don’t know how to be okay, and you showing up like this?”

  “Maybe it’s okay to hurt,” I offer, knowing she isn’t looking for advice from me. I’m the last person she’d turn to.

  “Is that what you are?” Her head tilts, her gaze burning into me. “Hurt?”

  I close my eyes, collecting my breaths like they’re earnings. When I open them, Palmer is waiting. “I still remember the day my sister died.”

  “Your sister?” She inches closer to me. “I didn’t know.”

  “You weren’t meant to.” I shove my hands in my back pockets, uncomfortable with being uncomfortable. Vulnerability isn’t something I’ve been taught. “It was ten years ago. I was eight. She was just shy of her fifth birthday, so certain I’d make her dreams come true and have a real unicorn at her party. Penelope was a force to be reckoned with.”

  The memory of my baby sister is too much. This is why I’ve pushed her down, made her disappear in my mind. Until now, seeing Palmer still hurting so bad, so lost in her own grief, forces me to acknowledge we aren’t much different.

  “She wanted to go swimming that day. Henry was at the house to watch us. He was distracted with a girl in the upstairs bedroom, not to mention the lines of cocaine on the table. I was eight, but not stupid.” I swallow hard and continue. “I pushed Penelope out of my room, told her I’d help her into her swimsuit after I finished doing whatever I was doing at the time. It was meaningless. I can’t even remember what it was that distracted me from my sister. My uncle found her face down in the pool an hour later, wearing her pink-striped bathing suit. He tried to revive her, pressed on her fragile chest until the paramedics showed up, but it was too late.”

  “Marek.” My name is as soft as velvet, trying its hardest to sooth me, make me not feel less than, but nothing ever will.

  She takes another step towards me, but I hold up my hands, stopping her. I don’t want her affection because she pities me in some way.

  “No, I want to talk about it.” I nod, ready to speak these words I’ve held in for so long. It’s a big secret, a lot of weight to carry around. “Henry told my mother I said I would watch her. He blamed me, an eight-year-old, for the tragic death of his own baby sister. After that day, my own mother could barely look at me. My father had always been absent, but it created an even bigger hole in our family.”

  “You were eight, Marek. None of that was your fault.”

  “That’s why Henry’s been spending the last ten years trying to make it up to me. Offering me the bid at Glass Heart Academy, equipping me with the best and greatest things money can buy. Everything bought and paid for with blood money.”

  “Did you ever try to tell your parents the truth?” Palmer sits on the brick wall of the stairs leading to the building. She eyes the spot next to her, and I reluctantly take it.

  “Once, but it didn’t matter. The damage had already been done. Only Henry and I know that when he stumbled down the stairs and found her, he could barely stand up on his own. How he sent me back inside the house to clean up his mess, too afraid my parents would see the truth. And I did it all. It’s why I don’t go in the water. My parents sent me to a therapist, and they believe the trauma caused my brain to forget how to swim. Like subconsciously reprogrammed my brain.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Because you aren’t alone. Every day, I feel that void you’re talking about. My loss turned me into a monster. Yours carried you into the arms of one.”

  “Two fucked up souls.” She pats me on the leg. For the first time, we understand each other. We’d never reached this point before I fucked everything up.

  “No more secrets between us, Palmer. Now you get to decide whether you’re willing to dance with all of my skeletons.”

  “Thanks for walking me to class, Marek, and for”—she ghosts her hand between us— “whatever that meant.”

  “I’ll be here to walk you to your next!” I yell as she walks up the steps. Her hand stills on the door handle, and she stares down at me, opening her mouth to disagree. “Palmer, I’ll be here. I promise.”

  After every class, Palmer walks out of with wide eyes and a grumpy attitude, and I show up like a lovesick puppy.

  “Your face is going to get stuck if you keep doing that!” I holler from the bottom step.

  She stands above me, scanning her eyes around the space. Is she going to jump over the bushes to avoid me? She takes several steps down, crossing her arms over her perfect chest.

  “Are we seriously still doing this?”

  “What, being chivalrous?” I offer her my arm. She denies me and pushes past, heading towards the main courtyard.

  “If that’s what you want to call yourself, then live it up, Hawthorne, but you and I both know you are anything but.” She glances over her shoulder. A small hint of a smile has me moving towards her.

  “Hungry?” I circle her and start to walk backwards, watching Palmer try to not be amused by me.

  “You’re going to run into someone.” Her eyes widen, and she gasps.

  I check the pathway and find it clear. She giggles, knowing she got me.

  “Will you have lunch with me?” I ask.

  “That depends. Will you stop showing up after class, acting like a possessive boyfriend, and making everyone stare at me?” She twirls her finger in the air, warning me to turn around.

  I spin and avoid smacking into a group of dancers practicing in the courtyard. Palmer laughs under her breath, and suddenly, I am transported to before, before it all happened. Little moments of light make me believe one day she won’t look at me like the savage we both know I am.

  “Please have lunch with me.” I open the door to the cafeteria, holding it for Palmer. “It won’t kill you.”

  “No, but maybe you’d like another chance.” Heavy steps carry her to the nearest table, and she slides into the booth, running her fingers over the silverware. “I’m sure there’s something sharp in here that you could slice my flesh with.” She yields a butter knife in her hand, circling it midair in my face.

  I bend down, one hand on the table and the other on the back of the booth. She hisses as I rest my mouth against her ear. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

  When I stand, I expect her to drive the dull edge into my thigh, but instead, I’m greeted with a surprising smile.

  “I’ll take a pretzel,” she says, swallowing heavily with a shallow breath. She opens her mouth again, but I cut her off.

  “With all the sauces.” I nod. “I know what you want, Palmer.”

  “Okay, then.” She relaxes, turning her attention to the window.

  As she watches the snow begin to fall, a magical gleam fills her eyes, experiencing winter from the warmth of the cafeteria. I’ve only seen one other person admire the wonderment of the season like Palmer.

  Distracted by a girl who, for all intents and purposes, hates me, I’m jerked back to stark reality by a tap on the shoulder.

  “That girl has you boys all twisted up,” Dillon says, reaching past me for a bottle of water and a giant slice of pizza.

  “What do you know about it, Johnson?” I cut my eyes at him. “And you’ll play like shit if you eat all that garbage.”

  “What I eat isn’t any of your concern. Plus, I don’t play like shit, ever.” He walks around me. “And word is you and the boys found themselves in quite the situation because of her.”

  On campus, mouths are always flapping. The shit everyone’s made up after the rooftop incident hasn’t surprised me on
e bit. People have claimed to witness things that never happened, and others offering their opinions have created quite the storyline for them to try to sort out.

  What it’s done is put a bigger target on Palmer’s back. Whoever is out to get her, whoever killed Reed, is still out there. The fucking police in this town are useless.

  “Let me guess, dear old dad, has had plenty to say.” I order a pretzel with sauces from the lady behind the counter before facing Dillon again.

  “Actually, he hasn’t said a word. Says your girl’s full of shit, and she’s using her poor sister’s death as a way to justify all her lies.” He sidesteps me, the plate in his hands giving me an evil idea. “You always did like the crazy ones. Is their mother next?”

  “Fuck you.” I walk past him and slam my closed fist on his tray. The glass plate shatters at his feet, and food splatters across his uniform and shoes. “I take care of my own, Dillon. You would be wise to remember that. It would suck if someone didn’t block for you tonight.”

  “Is that a threat?” he yells across the cafeteria.

  I stop at Palmer’s side and place her food in front of her. Twelve steps bring me back in Dillon’s face, nose to nose. My fists itch, ready to throw a punch. One quick check over my shoulder, and I know I can’t. Palmer’s eyes beg me not to do what instinct tells me needs to happen.

  “She’s got you soft, Hawthorne.” He chuckles. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Nothing about me is soft, and I never make threats. Watch your back, asshole.” I rush back to Palmer, and try to relax. My heart thumps against my chest, angry and fueled up for a fight.

  “That killed you, didn’t it, not throwing that punch he clearly deserved?” Palmer finally says. She pushes the plate across the table to me. “Maybe you’re hangry.”

  “He was running his mouth is all.” I pull off a piece. “You see this?” I run my finger over the delicate knots. “This is how you make me feel. Twisted up, knotted in all the right places, to the point of gooey, soft perfection. The old me, the one before you, would have taken him to an inch of his life.”