Freak (Hillcrest University #2)

by Candace Wondrak

  “Maybe,” Travis relented, shrugging. “Or maybe not. Sawyer has pushed everyone away since Sabrina died. And besides—are friends nice to have? Sure, but do you need them to survive?” He paused, letting me draw my own conclusions before saying simply, “No.”

  With the serious way he spoke, it was almost like he’d been through this before. “It sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

  He let out a short sigh, setting both hands on the railing before him. We stood less than a foot apart, and I hated that I wanted to close the distance even more. “Growing up with my family, you learn who you can count on, what to expect from others.”

  I didn’t know much about Travis’s family, but suddenly I was so very curious. And with the party still going, it wasn’t like I could march into the house and do what I had to do just yet. “Your family sounds a little weird, Travis. Are they as crazy as you?”

  Just when I wondered whether I should’ve insulted him like that, he let out a laugh. “Believe it or not, I’m quite sane when it comes to my family. You should meet my brothers—they’re vicious.” His blue eyes turned to me, and he whispered, “They’d eat you up alive and spit out your bones.”

  Okay, that was a little weird.

  Still, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “How many brothers do you have?”

  “Lots” was his answer. Then, “Our father was a busy man. Some of them are half-brothers, some of them were…adopted into the family.” No straight answer, though it sounded like he wasn’t going to give one. “With what we do, numbers are necessary.”

  “No sisters?”

  He smiled, and his smile made my stomach do a somersault or two. “Women don’t do very well in our line of business, usually. I have brothers, less sisters.”

  That came off as a little sexist, so I had to ask, “What is it your family does that women aren’t allowed to partake?”

  It was a while before Travis said, “If I told you that, the family would have my head.”

  I wanted to laugh, I did, but I couldn’t, because deep down a part of me wondered if he was serious. Danger radiated off Travis like water in Niagara Falls. I knew better than to take anything he said with a grain of salt.

  “Although, honestly?” Travis turned, leaning his elbows on the railing, studying me. “You might fit in just fine with my family.”

  At this point, I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.

  For a while, Travis and I talked. I asked more about his family, and he dodged the questions like an expert, as if he’d been doing it his entire life—which, I supposed, he had. The more we spoke, the more I wondered just where Travis came from. What twisted family could’ve sent him out into the world in good faith.

  “So after Hillcrest, what are you going to do?” I asked. We sat on a bench near one of the windows now, our thighs touching. It took everything in me to not lean towards him and breathe him in, to stay where I was, one hand on my lap and the other on my backpack, which took up the space on my other side.

  “After Hillcrest, I’ll have to join the family business,” Travis said, lighting up another cigarette. The end took a few moments to catch, and when it did, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the stuff.

  I stared at him. “You don’t get a choice?” Not having a choice in what he did sounded pretty barbaric, especially since I was ninety percent sure his family business involved illegal things.

  “No, but that’s alright. I’m already pretty proficient in the things my family does. They start teaching when you’re young to see if you have the mind for it. In the field, in the office, there’s a job for everyone. It took a lot to convince my father to let me come here for college.”

  “You don’t need a degree to do what your family does,” I said, watching him nod.

  “Nope.”

  His family sounded awful. I’d take my mom and our tiny rental apartment any day over a family that had wealth but dealt in illegal things. A business no woman could join, apparently. This was the twenty-first century; what an archaic way of thinking.

  As the time wore on, a few people stumbled out of the house. Some of them got in cars, which made me cringe. Couldn’t call the cops though, otherwise they’d probably shut this whole thing down. That, or Sawyer—even while drunk—would just use his money to get out of it. Money could solve every problem in the world…except me.

  Travis checked his phone, holding his cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he said, “It’s probably time.”

  I got up, but as Travis tried to get up with me, I stopped him by setting a hand on his chest, pushing him back down to the bench. His chest was hard under my palm, and I knew I should’ve tore my hand off him immediately, but I didn’t. I did glance at my thumb though, remembering what he did to me.

  This one…I had to pay special attention to him, otherwise he might try taking me like that again.

  “I got this,” I said. “If it makes you feel better, you can wait out here, but I don’t need you in there, okay? I can handle Sawyer.” And, at the time, I honestly believed I could.

  Stupid. I was about to realize I didn’t have anything under control.

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Will

  Ash’s face when I’d told her and Declan that I was transferring to Hillcrest next semester was not what I’d thought it’d be. I thought she’d be excited, happy, but instead she’d been conflicted. I didn’t like seeing her so conflicted, but there was nothing I could do about it now. She’d just have to get used to the idea of having both Declan and me around. We were brothers; we were close. I cared for him more than I cared for myself.

  And as for her? As for Ash herself? God, I wished I could say I didn’t care for her, because I knew Declan did. It wasn’t my territory; I was stepping where I didn’t belong, and yet I couldn’t help myself. There was something about her that just drew me in. Something that called out to my heart, tugging it along for the ride. She was wild, carefree, and smart.

  And, of course, she was beautiful. So beautiful. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, how her grey eyes always seemed to watch you, the way she leaned in closer to you when she was telling you something important. Everything about her I adored, so much more than I should.

  She was Declan’s, not mine. She should never be mine, and yet to deny the feelings rising inside of me would be impossible, because I wanted her to be mine. I wanted Ash, and though I wouldn’t outright fight my brother for her, I wouldn’t step aside, either.

  She was on my mind so much that when I made it back to my apartment, which I was fortunate enough to be able to afford alone, I couldn’t get her off my mind. So I did the only thing I could: I went into the bathroom and spent a while in the shower.

  Damn it. Declan would kill me if he knew what I was thinking about Ash, or at least I thought he would. Declan was hard to nail down; he was a pretty easy-going guy. I knew he and his last girlfriend had problems, but they always worked them out…or Declan gave into whatever Sabrina wanted. Ash? She wouldn’t be like that. Ash would never ask Declan for anything; she wasn’t that type of girl. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to like her.

  Unlike everyone we’d grown up with, unlike everyone our dad wanted us to associate with, Ash was real. She was relatable. She was nice and genuine and everything the rich usually weren’t, and that included Sabrina.

  Sabrina was the youngest of the Salvatores; I didn’t know her very well, but even I knew that she was bipolar in the worst way. The Salvatores had her on medication from when she was very young, but Declan had told me once that Sawyer said she didn’t always take her meds, which negated the whole point of them. Declan once said with Sabrina it was like flipping a coin; you never knew what side you’d get, and half the time you regretted even flipping the coin in the first place.

  Who would want a girlfriend like that? Who would want a relationship like that? I never did, which was why I did my best to stay out of their relationship altogether. Anytime Declan wanted to talk a
bout her, I listened, but my only advice to him was: get out while you can.

  The Salvatores were not a healthy family. James Salvatore was not a good man, not like our dad. He was only in it for the money, and I was pretty sure he was only married because she was his trophy. Men like that always had trophies, because they had the money to pay for them.

  It’d been a long while since I’d entertained a relationship for myself. I mean, I dated, but it never turned into anything serious. Lately I’d been so focused on going to class and studying hard, not to mention constantly talking to Declan to make sure he was okay, that it hadn’t crossed my mind.

  But that night, when Ash opened the door? When we went to pick up breakfast and she told me offhandedly about her love for chicken nuggets? Something inside of me clicked, as if it was easy to think: I want her. I need her. Entirely selfish in every way, and yet I couldn’t stop the feelings from taking over me.

  And that kiss…I’d never been more eager to kiss anyone than that night. With my hands tangled in her hair, her lips molding against mine, just as desperate and hungry as I was, how could I have not given in? Who the hell would kiss her and not instantly crave more? In those few seconds, before I’d realized I was moving in between her and Declan, I would’ve gladly taken every inch of her.

  Of course, that was before I realized that I just couldn’t let these feelings go. I couldn’t sit back and watch her and Declan together. They’d had weeks together, practically half a semester so far, and it was clear neither of them were going to be the first to cross that line. I didn’t want to wait on the sidelines while they fumbled around, neither one of them having the balls to admit it to the other.

  Ash cared for Declan, that much was obvious. Maybe Declan didn’t see it, but in that week while I lived with them, I noticed it. I saw how she looked at him, how she watched him when he wasn’t paying attention. How when she laughed, she always laughed a bit harder when it was Declan who said something amusing. Her body was always angled toward his, and she always sighed a bit more when he was near.

  It was selfish. I was selfish, but I couldn’t help it. It was impossible for me to deny the feelings in me. Spending so long apart from them while they both healed up after that terrible Saturday night, I couldn’t help but develop feelings for the girl who was keeping my brother sane.

  She really wasn’t like any other girl I’d ever met.

  I stood in the shower for a while, letting the hot water pelt me as I lost myself in my thoughts. I’d long since taken care of the hard problem I had, which left me feeling alone. Too alone. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being so far from Declan or so far from Ash.

  God. It really was messed up that I cared for her so much, wasn’t it? I should step aside and let Declan have her, I knew, but I simply couldn’t. There was not one part of me that wanted Ash out of my life. If anything, I wanted to see her more. I wanted to be around her more. I wanted so much more when it came to her and what we could be together.

  We would be great.

  I heaved a loud sigh and turned off the water, stepping out. I grabbed my towel and dried myself off, pensive and lost in my own thoughts. Nothing new when it came to Ash. I headed into my room as I ran the towel over my wet hair, stopping in front of my dresser as I pulled out some fresh, clean clothes to throw on before bed. Once I was dressed, I meandered into the hall, tossed the towel into the bathroom, and shuffled my feet to the living room, turning on the TV.

  As I mindlessly flipped channels, I found myself closing my eyes. I must’ve dozed off, because the next time I opened my eyes, the room was dark, the TV having turned itself off after a few hours of no movement. Smart TVs were apparently smarter than people.

  I let out a groan as I sat up, running a hand through my hair—which was bone dry now, although I could tell it had dried a bit weird, since I was basically asleep on the couch for the last few hours. I heaved myself up and went into my bedroom to go to bed.

  A chill swept over me, and I paused under the doorframe, shivering as I noted the window across from me was wide open. Huh. I could’ve sworn that was closed a few hours ago… I thought nothing more of it as I went to close it.

  My fingers gripped the top of the window, and I harshly pulled it down, flicking the locks on top. I was about to turn around, seconds from crawling into bed, when something warm grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. I was too shocked to do anything but blink, even when I saw the glimmer of silver metal in the moonlight.

  All it took was two seconds. Two seconds for the hooded figure to plunge that metal in my gut with no hesitation whatsoever. One more second for him to yank it out and step away from me, sending me tumbling to the floor.

  Pain.

  Sharp, biting pain spread through me like wildfire. More pain than I’d ever had in my entire life. Then again, I’d never been stabbed before, so I didn’t really have much to compare this to. I tried asking “Who” or maybe “Why” but all that came from me was ragged, agony-filled breaths. I was on the floor in the fetal position, unable to move much, the pain was so great.

  The man was shrouded in blackness, and I wasn’t able to see who he was. All I knew was that this was not how I expected this night to go. This…this wasn’t how I wanted to die. There was still so much I wanted to do, so much I needed to do.

  My eyes rolled back in my head, and the last thing I remembered before meeting the embrace of the unknown was the feeling of fire in my gut, bone-shattering pain that would linger with me for the rest of my days…

  Assuming I had any left after this.

  Then, blackness.

  Chapter Twenty-Four – Ash

  Sawyer’s party was definitely winding down. Most everyone had stumbled—or driven—home already, so when I went inside, immediately feeling the music pounding in my veins, I spotted a few stragglers in the living room, slowly dancing even though the song was an upbeat, fast one.

  I moved right past them, heading into the kitchen. Sawyer could’ve been upstairs, balls deep in another nameless girl, which honestly I’d been preparing myself for, but I was lucky to find him in the kitchen, his hands trembling as he went from bottle to bottle. The mountain of alcohol that usually supplied his parties looked well-used and well-loved, and judging by the frantic movements of Sawyer, most of the bottles were empty. No specially-mixed purple drinks this time.

  I studied Sawyer’s movements. Just by the way he lumbered between the bottles, slurring his words as he swore to himself when he found nothing but empty bottles, I knew he was inebriated enough. Enough to be awake, enough for me to lead him upstairs with the promise of sex, but not enough that he would pass out. Yeah, me dragging his ass up those stairs? Not fun, I’d imagine.

  With the backpack feeling oddly heavy on my back, I spoke, “Sawyer.” At my voice, he turned around, and I noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. He said nothing, his stare eating me up, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t tell if I was really here or not. “I’m surprised you aren’t upstairs with a girl,” I added, unable to stop myself.

  “You,” he said, lumbering towards me, practically tripping over his own feet to get to me. “You fucked me up, Ash.” His words were so slurred it was hard to understand him, and yet I knew what he meant perfectly.

  I fucked him up. I tended to do that. The broken people flocked to me like I was their savior and their priest, and I usually only ended up fucking them up even more.

  He blamed me for his current state, which didn’t surprise me. A guy like him, a spoiled little brat like him, never took the blame for what he did. It was always someone else’s fault…even if, in this case, it was true. I fucked him up.

  I could smell the alcohol on his breath as I took a step forward, reaching up to his face and dragging my fingers along his jaw, catching the prickly stubble as I went. “I’m sorry I fucked you up, Sawyer. I’ve just…never met a man like you before.” Stroking even a drunk man’s ego would get you places.

  Men. Fucking stupid, that�
��s what.

  He snatched my hand off his face, holding onto my wrist a bit tighter than he should. I held back a wince, for he held onto the hand I’d dislodged not too long ago. It was nearly healed now, but it wouldn’t take much to undo the healing.

  “Fuck you,” Sawyer muttered, frowning. “Fuck you and your hair, and your face, and your…your…” He stumbled over his words even more, and I was able to pull my wrist out of his grasp. He swayed on his feet, and I grabbed his hand, steadying him a bit.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said. “Can we go upstairs?” He was too out of it to notice my backpack, too drunk to wonder why I’d want to talk to him upstairs when I could just talk to him right now.

  “No,” he said, but I was able to drag him along anyway.

  Through the hall, up the stairs. Thankfully his bedroom was not being used by anybody, although the sheets were crumpled and stained, and the air reeked of sex, so I could tell someone had used it tonight. I wondered if it was Sawyer, and if it was…my patience with him would run thin.

  I didn’t get a chance to say anything else, nor did I even get a chance to close the door behind me. Sawyer had me pinned against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye, digging the contents of the backpack into my spine as he gave me the world’s sloppiest kiss.

  The scent of alcohol was rank in my nose, and it took everything inside of me to not gag and immediately push him away.

  Sawyer was a little frisky when he was drunk, apparently. Then again, he was pretty frisky when he wasn’t drunk, too.

  “Why do you make me so crazy?” Sawyer whined, breaking our lips apart just enough so that he could speak. With every word, his lips grazed mine, but I could not get over his breath. If he wasn’t drunk—if he wasn’t Sawyer, who constantly fucked up—maybe I could get behind this. Maybe I could forget about what I’d come here to do and just give my body the release it’d been craving since first coming to Hillcrest.

  I said nothing, setting both of my hands on his firm, strong chest—possibly the most muscular chest I’d ever touched—and moved him backward, pushing him down to the bed. He didn’t resist me, nor did he stop me when I crawled on top of him. We inched up the bed until our heads were near his pillows.