A wall of brush and ivy soon blocks my view of the party, and I hurry down the stone path, searching for movement in the darkness.
“Caleb?” I whisper.
There is no response.
When I reach the statue of Barry Buddha, my heart sinks. We’ve met here before, studied here, made out on the park bench behind me. But he’s nowhere to be seen.
Then, a crackle of leaves behind me, and I turn, swallowing a gasp.
He’s half silhouette, shadowed by the tent light over the wall to his back. He looks like a black-and-white movie star in his suit, and like before, my heart throbs at the sight of him.
All the things I want to say are swallowed by the want pulsing inside me. In a breath, we connect—mouths and hands hungry for touch. He tastes like apple cider and feels like home, and as my hands fly over his back and beneath his jacket, all I can think is finally.
His heart pounds against my flat hand as it slides up his chest. His teeth nip my bottom lip and the sound I make seems to spear more urgency through him. His hands lower over my hips, sliding over the soft fabric like water, pushing it aside when my knee hikes up his hip.
We stumble toward the park bench, and then I’m straddling his lap, and his lips are on my neck, and the rasp of his tongue below my ear drives me crazy. I pull at his buttoned shirt, and he gives a low groan as my fingers ride the ridges of his abs.
I am burning up. My blood is turning to steam. My need is so blinding I forget why I was mad at him. That we’re lying to each other. That I kissed another guy.
Almost.
I all but tear off Caleb’s coat, because I don’t want to think about those things now. This is simple. For one second, I just want to stop thinking.
His glasses are crooked and his hair’s a mess. His breath is hot as he mumbles words against my throat.
“I miss you,” he says.
I open my eyes, head tilted back, and the stars are a spray of glimmering salt on a black sky. I don’t feel the cold, but I feel the steam on my lips, and when his hands slide up the outside of my thighs beneath my dress, I press closer.
“Okay?” he asks, and I nod frantically. Okay. Yes. Yes.
My dress is draped over us, hiding his forearms. My fingertips press into the hard planes of his chest.
The music changes in the tent behind us. I don’t know how I hear it over the roar of my blood, but I do, and it reminds me that we’re outside, on a bench, fifty yards away from our friends and the school faculty.
Hiding.
And if I keep saying okay, this could go further, and further, and it’s not like I haven’t gone all the way before, but Caleb’s different.
I don’t want to sneak around. I don’t want to go back to pretending he means nothing to me while Geri sits on his lap and I flirt with Grayson.
And now the rest of it is coming, things I can’t block out anymore. Questions of if he’s still been following me, and why he couldn’t tell me, and why I can still feel Grayson’s grip on my cheeks when Caleb’s hands are in my hair.
“Brynn?” Caleb pulls back, searching for my gaze.
I can’t look at him.
It hurts now, that slash in my shield. It feels like something in me is tearing open, and I can’t stuff it back in. Not here. Not in this stupid, beautiful dress.
My head gives a quick shake, and his hands flatten on the outside of my hips.
“Slow down or total stop?”
I try to say something, but my breath comes out too rough, and I hate that sound as much as I hate myself for lying to him, and him for lying to me.
His eyes widen, and then his hands are off my legs, smoothing down my dress. Hiding my skin, even while I’m still on his lap. He holds my face in his hands, and when I tilt forward, his forehead rests against mine.
“We need to talk,” I whisper.
His breath expels in a hard whoosh, and of all things, he smiles. “There are about a hundred things I need to tell you.”
“Yeah?” Hope sears through my chest, knitting together the edges of my wound.
“Yeah,” he says. “But first, you’re killing it in this dress.”
My lips curve into a smile. “You like that, huh?”
Now he’s smiling, too. “A little bit.”
It’s going to be all right. He’ll tell me about his assignment, and I’ll tell him about kissing Grayson, and we’ll figure out what to do. We always figure out what to do.
A sound to my right yanks us out of our bubble, and both our heads snap toward the figure standing at the edge of the garden. A boy in jeans and a Vale Hall sweatshirt.
“Brynn?” Grayson’s voice is quiet, but sharp as a blade.
I feel as if I’ve been shoved out of an airplane with no parachute.
“Grayson.”
“Wait,” says Caleb as I scramble off his lap. I step on the hem of my dress, causing the fabric to tear as my feet find the ground. When I try to lunge after Grayson, I trip.
Caleb catches me before I fall.
“Let go!” I twist out of his grasp. Grayson’s already gone. I’ve ruined this. I have to try to fix it before it’s too late.
“Don’t,” says Caleb. “You don’t need to—”
“Stop.”
He falls back a step.
“Don’t go after him,” Caleb pleads. “He’s dangerous. And if he’s mad right now, you don’t know what he’ll do.”
“He’ll leave is what he’ll do.” I jerk my skirt up, but the leather strap has fallen off the back of my heel and kicks off when I take a step. With a groan, I snatch it off the ground.
“Brynn, someone is dead because of him!”
“It was an accident.”
“You can’t possibly believe that. That woman was running from him when he drove her off the road. She was afraid of him.”
“She had no idea who he was.” Grayson told me this part of the story. He was trying to talk to her about the affair with his father. She wouldn’t pull over. He opened his window to tell her to stop, and he didn’t see the curve in the road in time.
“She’d been attacked,” he says. “The police report said she had head injuries not caused by the accident.”
“What are you talking about? There were no reports filed. Matthew Sterling covered the whole thing up.”
“I know, but, I…” He stammers. “I’ve been looking into it. The pieces don’t add up.”
He’s not making sense. If there was a police report filed, I would have seen it.
“What pieces? What are you talking about?”
“I…” He gives a pained wince. “I can’t tell you everything yet.”
I balk. “So this is not one of the hundred things you were going to say?” I step closer. “What about why you were following me? Was that included?”
His shoulders drop, along with my stomach.
“I guess not,” I say.
He snatches his coat off the bench, and the sight of his shirt, half tucked in, reminds me that I look just as guilty.
“At least let me come with you,” he says. “We’ll talk to him together.”
“Not a chance.”
Hurriedly, I fasten my shoe and smooth down my dress, pulling the clip free from the side of my messy hair.
“Just stay,” he begs, his jacket hanging limp in one hand.
He doesn’t get it. Trust is not a one-way street. He can’t convince me I’m in danger if he can’t even tell me why.
Without another word, I run as fast as these stupid heels will allow, past the all-seeing eyes of Barry Buddha, out of the garden. With my skirt gathered in my hands, I head back toward the tent, but I see Grayson ahead, stalking up the stone steps toward the pool.
“Wait!” I shout, racing up the path after him. “Grayson!”
He doesn’t stop.
He’s inside before I pass the pool, and by the time I rip open the back door, he’s already across the house.
“Grayson!”
My voice ech
oes off the walls. This level is empty—everyone’s outside at the party. Panic seizes me as I pass the hall that leads to the garage. He could be getting a car, racing out of here with no one to stand in his way.
But when I turn, I find him sitting on the stairs.
Heart pounding from the run, I take a steadying breath and sit beside him, on the opposite side of the step.
He picks at his thumbnail, his back hunched.
“That why you freaked out the other night?” he asks.
Sweat drips down my back, sticking to my flattened curls.
“What do you mean?”
“You and him. Is he why you wouldn’t even look at me after we kissed?”
Dread pools in my belly. There is no way around this but to plow through.
“First, Moore caught us, in case you forgot.” When he snorts, I add, “And yeah. Something like that.”
Stars are born and die in the length of silence that follows.
“So you’re into him?”
I can’t really deny it now. He wouldn’t believe me if I did.
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“So, yes.”
I don’t disagree.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug. “Maybe I like you, too.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not fair.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
More quiet, in which I contemplate if I am, in fact, the worst person ever.
“Man,” he says. “I wish I could go home.”
My heart cracks in half.
“You will soon,” I say.
I’m so good at lying now, I don’t even have to think before I do it.
CHAPTER 24
The next morning, Belk knocks on my door.
“Director’s office. Five minutes.” He doesn’t explain why I’m being summoned before 8:00 a.m., only stares expectantly at me until I say, “Okay,” then retreats down the hall.
In a heartbeat, my bleary eyes clear and last night’s guilt is washed away by panic.
I’ve blown it with Grayson. That’s the only explanation for this early Sunday morning order. As I scramble to throw on clothes and wipe away the dark rings of makeup beneath my eyes, I think of the look on Grayson’s face when he left me on the stairs last night.
Broken.
There was no way to fix it. Nothing to do but let him go.
He trusted me. He liked me. And I couldn’t keep my hands off Caleb, who followed me and broke up with me and can’t tell me the truth even after his lips have been on mine.
I hesitate outside Charlotte’s door on my way to the stairs. I heard her come in late, but didn’t go over to say happy birthday, or ask how the cake was, or see how her night went. I didn’t even give her my present.
Good thing there’s enough room on my wall for the All Around Great Person Award, because I’ve just clinched it.
My socked feet pad down the steps I sat on just hours ago with Grayson. If Dr. O wants to see me now, it can only be because he knows how epically I’ve screwed up my assignment.
Wariness is gnawing at my gut as I place my hand on the office door. Whatever Grayson’s told him, I can fix. It’s what I do.
I wish I knew what Grayson told him.
“Brynn, come in.” Dr. O motions me toward the chair in front of his desk as I enter the room. With heavy steps, I walk toward it, ignoring the Latin motto carved into the stone tablet in the corner. Truth conquers all.
This is my first time alone with him since Mom told me about the new job with Wednesday. I should bring it up, thank him maybe, but I have a feeling that isn’t why I’m here.
The closer I get, the rougher Dr. O looks. His eyes are bloodshot, the thin, pale skin beneath smudged by exhaustion. His button-down shirt is wrinkled, tucked into his belt unevenly. Automatically, my gaze shoots to the fireplace and the safe hidden in the stones beside the chair, then bounces off.
“I’m sorry for the early wake-up,” he says. “I have business in the city today, and wanted to check in with you before I left.”
I wonder if he slept at all last night. My mind is already shooting through reasons why that might be—if it has to do with Grayson, or those detectives that searched the house, or something else.
“No problem.” Half a dozen papers litter his desk, but they’re not neatly organized as usual. My worry stretches thin as he frowns down at them. “Sir, are you all right?”
He coughs into his fist. “Yes. Thank you.”
I wait.
“Is it that obvious?” His smile is genuine, but pained. “I suppose so.”
His hands rest on his waist as his gaze lifts to the portrait of his sister in the white dress behind me.
“I miss her deeply. There are some nights…” His hand lifts so that his thumb can press into his temple. “I’ve had a hard time sleeping lately.”
“Since Grayson’s been here.” I’ve overstepped by saying this, but he doesn’t call me on it.
“His presence hasn’t made it easier.” He sighs. “My sister was a good woman. Kind. I keep remembering these little things I haven’t thought about in years. She had this uncanny ability to predict the weather.” His laugh is thick with memories. “You’d mention plans for this weekend, and she’d say, Better wait until Sunday—it’s going to rain, or Bring a coat, just in case. I never believed her, but she was always right.”
I’m not sure why he’s telling me this. It feels too personal, and I’ve learned my lesson not to get too close to the fire. Dr. O has tricked me before.
But everything he’s done, he’s done for a reason.
It wears away at me to see him like this. He may be a con like the rest of us, but he’s not immune to pain.
“She loved children,” he says. “She always wanted kids. This school was her idea.”
“Really?”
He nods. Opens his mouth to say more, then frowns. “I’m sorry. You’re not here to listen to an old man’s sad story. How are you? How is the job going?”
“I’m fine. The job…” I catch myself right before I tell him what Mark said about Jimmy Balder and Susan the night of the fund-raiser. The words are right on the tip of my tongue, but something stops them from spilling out.
“Sterling’s staff has been busy,” I recover quickly. “They were getting ready for a fund-raiser for the parks, but things kind of fell apart when the senator changed his mind on some vote.”
Odin’s gaze lights with recognition. “I saw that. I imagine some people were … upset.”
The way he says this makes the hair on the back of my arms stand up. A minute ago he was broken up over his sister’s death. Now apathy has flattened his tone.
He doesn’t care if people are upset.
Maybe that’s what he wants.
“Did you have something to do with that?” I ask.
It shouldn’t matter if he did. My job is to gather information about Jimmy Balder and pass it along. But if he is bribing or threatening Sterling, that affects Grayson, and until I know how, my lips are sealed.
Dr. O lifts his brows, impressed. “What makes you say that?”
I hold his stare, though I’d be lying if I said my knees weren’t shaking. It takes an iron will to call Dr. O out on the floor.
So I sit, crossing my legs, like I planned it the whole time.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Sterling’s leading the charge to lower the price of medicine, then gets bought out by some big drug company and changes his mind. You still own Wednesday Pharmaceuticals, don’t you?”
You know, the company that just hired my mom.
A muscle in his jaw tics.
“It almost sounds like you think I’m the one who’s corrupted him,” he says.
“He was already corrupt.” The rest of the question hangs between us.
Were you?
Dr. O hums thoughtfully. “And you’re wondering what I stand to gain by blackmailing him.”
I uncross my legs. The
n cross them again.
“I think I know what you’d gain.”
He nods. “Ah. Money.”
“It’s got to come from somewhere.”
“Indeed it does. But I’m doing just fine without tax cuts and government assistance.”
“Then why?” I ask.
He glances to the painting, then back to me. “If I did have something to do with this—and I’m not saying I did—it would be because that bill Sterling was going to propose would have cost a lot of people their jobs in the pharmaceutical business. Cheaper medication for all comes with a price. Matthew Sterling’s change of conscience has helped a great many workers in our city.”
By the righteousness in Dr. O’s tone, there’s no if about it. He did it, and he plans to do it again.
I sag, disappointed, even if I have no right to be. “That’s why you didn’t turn over Susan’s phone to the cops and send him to jail. You wanted to use him.”
“That bothers you.”
I pick at my thumbnail. “I thought this was about justice for your sister.”
“It’s about justice for all of us. A senator doing what’s best for Sikawa can help a lot of people, Brynn. Surely you can see that.”
Maybe. But the way Ben was talking at the club, it sounded like Sterling was already helping people.
Either way, it feels wrong. Like all that stuff about Dr. O’s sister wasn’t real.
I try to picture what he did to make the senator change his mind—if Dr. O left a message saying he knows the truth about Susan, or if he claimed to have her phone.
If he said he’s talked to Grayson.
Dr. O wouldn’t have done that, though. If he had, then Sterling would have bombed Vale Hall just to keep the secret hidden.
Or sent two detectives with a warrant to snoop around.
But they didn’t find Grayson, which means that Sterling doesn’t know Dr. O has him, or at least has him here. And that means that Dr. O is keeping his word to protect the boy who ended his sister’s life.
But for what purpose? And for how long?
Dread creeps over my skin like a spider, crawling up my arms and down my legs. I’m ready for this meeting to be done.
“Have you learned anything about Jimmy Balder yet?” asks the director.
My heart trips over the name. How does Jimmy fit into the puzzle? If Dr. O plans on blackmailing Sterling, he clearly has enough to get the job done.
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