by Molly E. Lee
“Sure,” I said, half mumbling as I set my gear up.
Couldn’t be further from the truth.
I now wanted to find the source for me. Because I couldn’t shake the fact that my kid sister was pregnant. That she’d been led astray by some blogger hiding behind a website. Sitting behind a computer screen, telling people what to do without a care for what happened to them after.
The person had to pay.
Somehow.
They had to be held accountable.
Fuck, I sound like Tanner.
But he didn’t have a clue. Not really.
Didn’t matter. This wasn’t for him.
I dug and searched and scoured. For so hard and so long that Tanner left the office for a late lunch, unable to sit there and watch me for a moment longer.
Nothing.
Not a trace.
It wasn’t possible. Everything left a trace. The person had simply hidden it too well.
Where would you hide content if you wanted no one to discover you?
A lightning bolt hit my brain and I face-palmed myself.
Of course.
Tor. One of the dark webs I hadn’t checked yet.
A memory, buried and cloudy, begged for my attention. Who had I spoken to about the dark web? Had Amber and I talked about it? I was already too in the zone to think on it for long.
I switched servers, slipping in easily.
Once inside, it only took a few lines of code-recognition and some analytics before I’d locked on to a social media account that had been logged in while connecting to the site. A few clicks of the keys and—
“No.” I froze, my fingers on the keys, as I saw the profile picture. Read the name. “Amber.”
I checked and re-checked, desperate for it to be a mistake. That I’d accidentally stumbled upon something else of hers. Some other project—
The challenge.
The contingency plan.
Tessa.
Everything made sense in a sick, twisted sort of way.
Amber reaching out this morning, scared so much she was contemplating torching something vital.
Tessa blaming the blog for her pregnancy. For the next eighteen years of her life not belonging to her anymore.
How could she do this?
I wasn’t sure who I was more upset with—Amber for being the source or Tessa, for listening to it.
Months ago, when I’d asked Amber who she thought could be behind the blog…
“There are six girls in Griffin’s class,” she said. “Holly, Kristy, Sara, Quinn, Monroe, and me. Could be any one of them.”
Her words echoed in my head.
“Me.”
Fuck.
She’d included herself.
But I hadn’t included her.
I’d thought she would’ve told me then and there.
And if not in front of her friends, the second we were alone.
Something sharp sunk into my chest, jagged and hot and hurting.
Because the blog was the end-all-be-all on sex advice. And yet, last night, when we’d had sex…it was supposed to have been her first time. Like me. We’d been taking it slow because of her past, too. Not that it had ever bothered me. But…
Was it all bullshit?
No.
It couldn’t be.
But how could I know for sure?
After everything.
Amber…who are you?
“Amber Henderson?” Tanner’s voice shocked me out of my heart shattering inside my chest, and I slammed my laptop shut two seconds too late. “She’s the source?” He straightened, a smug smile on his face.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That wasn’t—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off. “Don’t lie for her. I read it over your shoulder. Saw the shock on your face.” He tsked me. “She kept it from you.” He sank behind his desk. “Good work, Winters,” he said, turning his desktop screen so I could see it. He clicked open the vid-file of Tessa stealing his computer, before dragging it to his trash, and then emptying it. “As promised.”
I swallowed hard, feeling like sharp pieces of glass tore at my throat all the way down. I knew he likely had a copy of that file. I’d find it later and trash it for good. But I couldn’t focus on that right now, couldn’t focus on much beyond packing my gear and nodding at him as I left his office in a numb stupor.
“Dean?” Ms. Howard’s voice called before she stepped into my path in the hallway outside their offices. I wondered if she’d made a point to come in on a Saturday because Tanner did, or because she knew Tanner was going to ask me to. “Are you all right?”
No.
“Fine,” I lied and kept walking. Ignored her as she asked again. Forced my feet to move until I’d sunk behind the wheel of my car.
Another buzz vibrated my pocket.
A text from Amber I read through blurry eyes.
Pixie: Can I head over in 30?
Me: Sure
I pocketed my phone and started the car, anger replacing the break in my chest. Filling it with heat and blame and rage.
I loved Amber.
And she had broken my heart without even knowing.
I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Amber
I can’t believe I’m going to tell him.
The words repeated over and over in my head as I drove to Dean’s house. I’d spent the day crafting my final blog post—filled with apologies, intentions, and hopes for the future—and I planned to post it tomorrow.
After I talked to Dean.
Because my stomach was still in knots and my brain was trying desperately to take everything back—the blog, the girl’s mistake, the misunderstanding. I hadn’t eaten anything all day, the nausea killing any hope of the bliss I’d experienced the night before. The elation at being loved by Dean.
I knew talking to him about everything would help. It always did.
Didn’t make me any less nervous.
For five minutes, I sat in his driveway, unable to turn off my car. The traitorous voice in the back of my mind, whispering that Dean wouldn’t understand, that he’d be disappointed in me or would judge me over the secret I’d kept.
I shook off the cold fear.
Dean is different.
And he told me he loved me.
He would not only understand, but he’d also help me work the problem just like he had with the Brandon issues.
I nodded to myself and stepped out of the car with a fresh wave of hope washing away the sourness in my stomach.
The door opened before I could knock on it, an older, larger version of Dean smirking down at me. I remembered Sean from the two years we attended Wilmont together, but he had grown into a man since he graduated. His shoulders broad, the evidence of scruff on his strong jaw. His eyes were more blue, where Dean’s had that slate gray to them that always sent shivers over my skin.
“Dean’s in his room,” Sean said by way of greeting.
“Thanks,” I said, stepping in after him. “How are things at Inkheart?”
“Fantastic.” He stopped by the stairway the led up to Dean’s room. “It gets better,” he said. “After high school. Know that.” He winked at me before heading around the corner.
God I hope so.
I’d done such a great job at screwing up these last few months, I wasn’t sure if I could ever dig myself out of the hole I’d created.
Dean’s door was closed, and I shifted on my feet outside of it, not sure if I should knock or simply walk in. My hand darted from a fist to reaching for the knob and back again before I finally rapped my knuckles against the door.
It flew open in a matter of breaths, and I was fully expecting Dean to yank me inside and kiss me li
ke we’d been apart for months.
“Shhh!” He held his finger to his lips, his brow furrowed as he turned his back on me, walking deeper into his room.
Okay. I didn’t expect that.
I tiptoed into the room, quietly shutting the door behind me. “Sorry,” I whispered.
“Tessa is asleep.” Dean’s tone was sharper than I’d ever heard it.
“Okay, sorry,” I said again, not mentioning that it was near five p.m. “Is she sick?”
“Something like that.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke. Instead he was rifling through his dresser drawers, frantically searching for something.
The metallic tang returned to my stomach, sloshing and rolling and twisting.
“Dean?” I wasn’t sure what I was asking, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say with the way he was acting. Since we’d crossed that line with each other, he’d never not touched me or smiled at me when we were together. “Everything all right?”
A dark laugh shook his shoulders. “You tell me.”
Oh. Right.
Maybe he was misunderstanding my earlier cryptic messages. Maybe he thought this was about me and him.
“Okay,” I said, my fingers trembling. “I need to talk to you. About—”
He spun around and tossed something at me. I instinctively caught the black T-shirt, eyes darting between him and it.
“Unfold it,” he demanded.
I shuffled the fabric around in my hands, taking in the rainbow design within the outline of deadmau5’s signature oversize mouse head.
“What’s this for?” My throat suddenly dry, I had to talk around the cracks.
Dean folded his arms over his chest. “You win.”
I refolded the T-shirt, slowly tilting my head. “What?”
His features hardened, and my stomach dropped.
“You win,” he said again.
“Dean, I’m confused.”
The muscles in his forearms flexed as he laughed again, but there was no light in his eyes. “Let me clear it up for you, then.”
A lump formed in my throat as I recoiled from his words.
“You win the challenge,” he said, eyeing the shirt. “My simple desktop switch for all the computers at school would’ve taken them hours, maybe days to figure out and fix, but it’s nothing compared to what you did.”
My eyes widened.
“Yeah,” he snapped. “I know.”
“You looked at my stuff before I could…” I sighed. “I came over here tonight to tell you about it. To explain—”
“I didn’t need to look at your stuff!” He cut me off. “I’ve been searching for you for months. And to explain what, exactly, Amber? That you lied to me?”
“What?” I shook my head. “We weren’t supposed to tell each other about what we were working on. That was part of the challenge.”
He huffed. “Sure, play that card.”
“I’m not trying to play any card,” I said. “And what do you mean you’ve been searching for me for months?”
He raked his hands through his hair. “Tanner,” he said, shaking his head. “He likes to blackmail people, remember? I’ve been searching for the person behind Ask Me Anything—”
“You didn’t tell me.” Hot tears welled behind my eyes.
“I was protecting you. Or I thought I was. I had no idea you would be the source!”
I stepped toward him. “I came here for help. To talk to you about—”
He flinched away from my touch, and I dropped my hand.
“You don’t need my help,” he said. “You’re clearly on your own level.”
I retreated an inch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you were able to navigate the dark web without an assist. Keep this site buried. And manage to know so many things…”
Each word stung my insides. “Why are you so upset with me?” I asked, tears building, but I held them back.
“I asked you who you thought was behind it. You kept this from me—”
“This was part of a challenge!” I cut him off. “I had to keep it from you. And it was my way of riling up Tanner and helping people who need it.”
He scoffed at me. “Helping?” He rolled his eyes before focusing the sharp gaze on me. “Right,” he said. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You have no idea.”
I sucked in a stuttered breath.
“Was last night research?”
I snapped my eyes to him. “What?”
“Last night? With me. Was it just research for your next blog?”
The accusation hit me in the center of my chest. “What? No! How could you think that?”
How could he say that?
A vibration in my pocket said someone was calling me, but I didn’t care.
“I don’t know what to think anymore, Amber.”
The way he said my name, hard and cold—so drastically different than the way he normally purred Pixie—broke something inside of me. I swiped at the few tears that had leaked past my defenses. My cell buzzed in my pocket again, but I ignored it.
“Last night was…” I drew a breath. “It was about me loving you. About me wanting to willingly give you a piece of me I’d never given anyone before. It was about trusting you. Dean, I gave you all of me.”
A flurry of emotion churned in those blue-gray eyes—hope, love, anger, betrayal—then they glittered for a second before he dropped a wall over them.
“Amber—”
“Damn it,” I snapped, jerking out my phone that buzzed for the third time. Set to turn it off, I froze when I saw the screen. Four missed calls from Mom. Before I could blink, she was calling again. Flashes of tragedy—my dad in an accident?—had me swiping to answer. “Mom, is everything okay? I’m in the middle of something.” I stared at Dean while I spoke, his statue-like stance softening as he waited.
“Dad and I are fine,” she said, and I sighed so hard I slumped against Dean’s closed door.
“Great,” I said. “I’ll call you back in a little bit. I’m—”
“Honey,” she cut me off. “We need you to come home now. We’ve got to talk about some things.” Her voice was calm but she had the tone—the one full of weight, of serious business. “Principal Tanner just got off the phone with your father.”
I bolted upright, all my muscles locking.
“He told him some things,” she continued. “We’re worried. Please, just get home soon, okay?”
“Be there in a few.” I ended the call, my hand shaking around the phone as I cut my eyes to Dean. “You told Tanner?”
I waited for him to deny it, but I knew it was true.
“You really were looking for me. The whole time.”
My entire body shook with the betrayal. The one person I’d trusted—after everything—had turned me over to the enemy. And he was the one chewing me out over this.
The blood drained from his face, his arms falling loose at his sides as he stepped toward me. “Amber, wait,” he said, reaching for me. “You don’t understand.”
Now I was the one jerking away from him—it didn’t matter that he finally sounded and looked like my Dean. The one I fell in love with. Like whatever rage had a hold of him had finally cleared.
“You sold me out,” I said, tears blurring my eyes. “I understand enough.” I reached for the knob and swung open the door. “So much for DC, huh?”
“Wait. Please,” he said, and I stopped in the entryway, glancing over my shoulder.
“Why?” I sniffled. “For you to shatter my heart completely?” He flinched. “No,” I said. “I think I’ll go while I can still breathe.” I slammed the door behind me and raced down the stairs, reaching my car in a matter of seconds.
I saw Dean fling open his front door as I reversed out of hi
s driveway, and left him standing on his porch yelling after me.
…
Mom met me in the foyer the second I’d stepped through my front door. Her arms flung around me, holding me to her like she knew everything that had just gone down—but she had no idea.
She led me to the dining room table, where Dad sat, a crease between his brow as he took in my face—red and swollen from crying all the way home.
“Pumpkin,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
I sank into the chair, Mom’s hand still on my back as she sat next to me. Nodding, I rubbed my face, breathing deep.
“I’ll start at the beginning,” I said, my voice cracking. “For a challenge between me and…” I sniffled, unable to say his name. “I started a blog—”
“Ask Me Anything,” Mom cut me off and Dad nodded.
“Right, yeah,” I said. “Tanner told you.”
“Oh honey,” she said. “We knew long before he told us.”
“What?” I jolted. “How? When?”
She glanced at Dad, who flashed me a small smile. Mom laid her hand over mine. “Since you asked me about what to do if you’re allergic to latex.”
I chuckled through my tears, shaking my head.
“I mean, it was kind of obvious,” Dad said, his tone light, understanding. “It was like you were trying to write a self-help book for teens.” He held up his hands. “Which we’d totally support, by the way.”
I glanced between them, then crumpled with my head in my hands. “I messed up so bad.”
“We’re not upset with you,” Mom assured me. “We just wanted to talk. After the principal called, and with the parents protesting, we knew it was escalating to a point where we couldn’t not say anything anymore.”
Warmth pulsed in the center of my broken heart, but their support wasn’t enough to mend it.
“We want to help you,” Dad said. “Whatever you need. We’re here. We can talk to Principal Tanner as a family. Help you make a statement on your blog, whatever you need.”
I bit my lip, wishing it was that easy. “Thank you,” I said, wiping my face again. “But…” The breath tightened in my lungs as I tried to force the words out. My parents waited patiently, their eyes understanding and open and not at all angry. “I got a girl pregnant!” I blurted, and they both blinked at me.