by Ellis Marie
With a groan, he pulls me over him and lies on his back while I straddle him with ease. I land on his chest with a gush of air, repeating his whines as he covers my mouth.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, pushing my face into his chest as he tightens his arms around me. “I didn’t quite hear you. Did you say something?”
Giggling, I dig my fingers into his sides as I thrash around, trying to get free but also wanting to continue cuddling him. My willpower is dwindling slowly.
With a forceful jab into his ribs, he lets me go, chuckling as I sit up and brush my hands through my hair.
“Very funny,” I comment, sticking my tongue out at him, and in a flash, he’s sitting up.
Our chests knock together with the movement. His hands latch onto my thighs, holding me in place. My heart slams against my chest as his eyes glance down to my lips and then back up again.
“You should really watch your tongue.”
My breath hitches as he squeezes my sides and my thighs clench around him. “Oh really?” I ask, barely above a whisper. “Are you going to cut it off?”
Trent smirks as I circle my arms around his neck, our bodies pulling themselves into each other until they are flush.
“No . . .” he trails off, his breath causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. “But I’m sure I could think of something that it could be useful for.”
Oh.
“Trent!” I gasp, pushing myself off him as the heat takes over my complexion. His laughter booms through the room as I try to scramble away from him. “It’s not even 8AM! Get your head out the gutter!”
Before I can fully move away from the bed, he catches my wrist and stops me, pulling me into the space between his legs as he sits on the edge of the mattress.
“There is not a second, minute, or hour that I do not want you, mia dea.” He chuckles, kissing the palm of my hand while my other threads into his hair. “I am at your mercy every minute, of every day, for the rest of my life.”
I roll my eyes at his romantic words, but internally, they make me sigh with happiness and cause the knot in my core to tighten.
“You’re utterly adorable,” I mumble, pressing my lips to his. “I still don’t quite know how I got so lucky.”
Trent smiles against me before standing up and kissing my knuckles, his eyes sparkling as he looks down at me. “I’m the lucky one.”
Swoon.
“But I believe you have a best friend to wake up, and I have a pack to sort out.”
I let out an exaggerated groan, which only causes Trent to laugh more as he gently pushes me out the room and into the hallway towards my bedroom and away from the soft comfort of his duvet.
“You’re the one that was desperate to go back to school,” he reminds me. I huff in reply.
He notices my reluctance and lowers his head to my ear, brushing his lips against it as he runs a hand down my spine.
“Maybe tonight, we can continue this . . .” As he pauses, I gulp. “Conversation.”
He’s gone before I can even comprehend what he’s said, and by the time I realise, he’s already around the corner, his retreating laughter the only indication that he was ever there.
Tease.
I shake my head and throw open my bedroom door, ready to vent to Kristie about the frustration I’m feeling as well as wake her up.
“Right, get your butt up! We have to . . . Kristie?” I pause as I look around my bedroom, taking in the unmade bed and clothes scattered on the floor.
That’s weird.
“K?” I shout, sticking my head into the cupboard, but all that greets me is darkness and a definite lack of my best friend.
“Morning, Elle!” I spin around to see Scarlette at my bedroom door, her face bright and cheery as she steps in, looking around the room with me. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Kristie? I don’t know if she’s downstairs for breakfast?”
“Oh, she left earlier.” Scarlette smiles, walking over to my bed where she lays out clothes. “She said she had a thing to do before school started, some club or something?”
Of course.
“Drama thing,” I answer, relief settling in me as I peer over her shoulder and at the items on the mattress. “I forgot. Just paranoid, I suppose.”
“I wouldn’t worry.” Scarlette grins, holding up a dress to my body as she looks me over. “Cam woke up too.”
She says it so casually that I almost miss it, but as soon as she sees my mouth open and my eyes widen, she stops me from running out the door.
“He’s also gone,” she says with a chuckle. “Lee said he saw him in Kristie’s car with her. Probably didn’t want to have breakfast with the big bad pack, y’know.”
All in all, it makes sense. Going with Kristie meant a free ride to school that didn’t include having to sit with Trent, or another wolf that didn’t like him. Plus him being gone before I woke up meant he didn’t have to explain himself either. At least, for now anyway.
“Are you sure they were both okay?” I ask, accepting the clothes that she passes to me to change into.
“Oh, totally fine.” Scarlette smiles but then winces. “Although, can’t say how long that’ll describe Cam. Trent could smell that he had been at your door. I don’t think he was very happy.”
“At my door?”
I look over to the doorway, trying to picture Cam standing there and what exactly it was that he wanted. Had he been looking for me?
“I wouldn’t worry,” the red-haired girl tells me, pushing me towards the bathroom. “He was probably just coming to get Kristie so he could catch a ride.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree with a firm nod. “I’ll check on him at school.”
“Perfect. Now, go shower and get dressed. I’m making omelettes, and if you don’t hurry up, the savages downstairs will have eaten them all.”
“Okay, okay.” I laugh as she shuts the door behind her. “I won’t be long.” I chuckle to myself as I drop my clothes on the counter and begin to undress, the smile on my lips slowly dropping until it’s non-existent. It’s perfectly normal for Cam and Kristie to get a lift together. It all makes perfect sense, so then, why does it feel like there’s something crawling up my throat and an anchor in my stomach that won’t budge?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
By the time it hits lunch, I know something is really wrong.
Not only have I not seen Kristie or Cam, but neither of them are answering their phones. I could maybe understand Cam, but Kristie? It’s unheard of.
When I’m finally free of class, I pretty much sprint to her locker in hopes of them being there. I don’t take notice of the clumps of people around me or the shouts that follow me as I shove people out of the way. The only thing on my mind is my two best friends and the fact that they seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth.
I already know before I even turn the corner that they’re not going to be there. This feeling in my chest continues to grow, like a beacon warning me that something is happening. Or has already happened.
My breath shakes as I try to inhale deeply, my hands rattling against the metal of the locker and making the lock hanging there hit the frame.
It catches my attention. Maybe there’s something in her locker that can help.
People bash into me as I try to steady myself and focus, my hands sweating as I attempt to spin the dial to the correct number. The sound around me increases as more people pour out of classrooms. It might just be that I’m panicking, but I could swear it’s ten times louder than usual.
My heart races as I curse myself, the lock slipping from my fingers again. I slam my hand, the sound vibrating out and quieting the people around me. Almost immediately, however, they continue to move. The sounds are louder, the whispering following me, but I can’t quite catch what they’re saying.
Finally, the locker swings open. I rummage through her belongings, trying to find something that might tell me where she is
.
After this, I’ll go and check Cam’s. I’ll find Tom to see if he has spotted either of them. I’ll—
My throat tightens as a picture falls out of Kristie’s locker, and I already know who’s in it. Our two pubescent faces smile at the camera, our braids knotted together and teeth gleaming as we eat ice cream.
It’s one of the first photos we’ve ever gotten together, only days after we had met. I can still remember the taste of the dessert. I had picked cotton candy and Kristie had picked birthday cake. We ate so much that we were almost sick.
Mrs. Grenway had taken the photo. I can’t lose her too.
Through the fog of memories, the voices walking past me finally catch my attention.
“Another dead body.”
“I wonder who it is?”
“They’re trying to hide it.”
The world stops. I can’t breathe.
“In the forest.”
“Suicide.”
“A senior.”
My body begs me to give up, to faint, to just stop listening so that I don’t have to learn the horrors that they’re talking about. A part of me wants to turn the other way and not look, to pretend I haven’t heard anything, but I have to go.
I put her things back in the locker and slam it shut, following the flow of the crowd that pulls me out the doors and into the playing field where I see that at least half of the school is residing.
How had I not heard?
“Excuse me,” I say to someone I barely recognise, my voice barely audible as I try to catch a breath, but they ignore me. I stumble as more people push.
Where is everyone?
“Can you tell me what’s happening?” I try again to some girls all mumbling amongst themselves. They only look at me briefly before choosing to ignore me and they speed off.
What if it’s Kristie?
I struggle to walk through the crowd, my ears beginning to ring and my legs wobbling as I beg for someone to tell me what’s going on, but it seems like I’m invisible to everyone.
“Could you please tell me—”
What if it’s Cam?
“Do you know what’s going on?”
Is this my fault?
Everything begins to blur. My beat of my heart is the only sound that I can hear. I know that although I feel words leaving my lips, I’m not speaking them.
Please. Someone’s dead.
“Elle!”
Like breaking the surface of water, the air rushes in my lungs upon hearing the voice calling my name, my eyes refocusing and my legs steadying.
“Cole,” I gasp as he puts his arm around me, pulling me out of the rush of people and into the safety of his body. “Cole, I can’t find Kristie or Cam, and I heard someone say that there’s a body and suicide and—”
“We don’t know if it was suicide,” he interrupts, pulling his brows together. My lungs stop working as he avoids my gaze. “It might look like one, but it might be a cover-up. We should—”
“Cole.”
I know he can tell from my voice. I know that he can hear the unsaid words and the questions that are breaking through with every gasp that I’m inhaling. The tears in my eyes build as my body shakes. I already know that there’s something he doesn’t want to tell me.
It’s one of them.
“No,” I cry, shaking my head as I step back from him, my arms already coming up like a barricade. “No, no, it can’t be them, it can’t be them, they can’t be—”
“It’s not them, Elle.” His eyes turn dark as he grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “It’s not Cam or Kristie.”
I fight the urge to punch him as I breathe a sigh of relief, letting out an almost hysterical laugh as I wipe my eyes. “You could have started with that, Cole. I thought it was.”
“It’s not one of them,” he states with an edge to his voice. I stop my small moment of relief as I realise that something is still wrong.
It’s still someone that I know.
“Cole, what is it?”
He grits his jaw and his eyes dart around us, the reluctance to tell me almost palpable as we stand in silence. The people around us push past, their attention not on us and our conversation but, instead, on the commotion down at the front . . . then I hear a scream.
Without thinking, I push past Cole, ignoring his calls and pleads for me to stop.
Instead, I merge with the running crowd of people. The mumbles around me are all joining into a crescendo that only seems to fall silent when I make it to the front. To where the scream is still coming from.
It’s like a wail. A sound of guttural pain, of loss, of heartbreak. It reminds me of my own cries upon finding Mrs. Grenway. The kind of cry that only comes from someone losing someone that means the world to them.
Family.
I don’t recognise the girl at first, but something scratches at my memories and tells me that I should know her but it’s not coming to me. It’s only when she looks up that I see her pointed features, the same nose that I had only been speaking to the day before. I’ve only met her a few times in the past, but now, the resemblance is undeniable.
It’s Andy’s little sister.
Nausea. All I feel is nausea.
Before I even look at where she is staring, before I so much as see a glimpse of the hanging feet, or the dead expression on his face—
I want to vomit. Everything seems to slow down. It’s like the world has gone silent. I can’t hear the screaming anymore, or the cries of people around me. Just the wind that blows the tree from which he hangs.
My knees collapse from underneath me, and I hit the floor, the grass below turning wet with my tears that drop to the ground.
Why would he do this?
An arm wraps around me, and I already know it’s Cole. His voice is softly bringing me out of my haze, his words of concern and comfort calming down the bombarding thoughts that are splitting my head. It’s only when other gasps and voices break through the swarm that I fully begin to pay attention to what’s happening.
Teachers break through, their voices strong in comparison to the teenagers around us who have been shaken. They stand in front of the crowd, blocking off the scene and telling people to turn around, to all go back to the assembly hall.
I recognise Mrs. Howard as she bends down in front of Andy’s sister. Her grey eyes that are usually so hard, her face that is the perfect image for stern teachers and discipline, it’s all gone. She looks just as horrified and shaken up as the rest of us, but as she wraps an arm around the wailing girl, I see her softness, her kindness.
She’s barely managing to hold it together, just like the rest of us.
Altogether, we’re huddled back to the gym where we sit down, waiting to have another assembly about the death of one of our students.
Two students so close together—a tragedy.
Cole tells me how they’ve phoned an ambulance, that people are on the way for him, but we both already know that it’s too late. He’s dead. I picture him yesterday—shaking, pale, eyes sunken in, and lips cracked.
Would he kill himself?
“Trent’s already leading a group to try and find any trails leading up to the body,” Cole whispers into my ear. “He told me to tell you that he’ll find you as soon as possible but to stay by my side until then, alright?”
I nod vacantly, barely registering what he’s telling me.
Andy is dead. Andy is . . . wait, why would Trent be concerned about me?
My mind flickers to yesterday when Andy wouldn’t tell me what was going on.
I can’t They’ll kill me.
Claws dig up my back and scratch their way down my spine. I look past Cole to where I can still see Mrs. Howard holding the blubbering girl, trying to get her to calm down.
“He wouldn’t kill himself!” his sister cries into her shoulder, shaking her head in denial as they try to move her from the room. “He just wouldn’t!”
I know he was feeling guilty about the bomb,
or whatever it is that he’s involved in, but could he have felt it so much that he ended it?
No, he wouldn’t.
As she pulls out of the gym, her voice is muffled, following her out, but her last words ring through like they’re meant for me.
“He wouldn’t leave me!”
And then it clicks.
As I turn to Cole, he opens his mouth to speak, but upon seeing my expression, he changes his mind. His confidence from before dwindles as I swallow the lump in my throat.
He already knows.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” I whisper, numbness floating through my body. “They killed him because he tried to warn me, didn’t they? He said they would yesterday. He said that’s why he couldn’t explain.”
“We don’t know that for definite,” Cole tries, his voice low as he grabs my hands and makes me look at him. “It could be a guilt thing; it could have been suicide. We don’t know what he was involved in.”
“It wasn’t,” I reply, looking over to the door where his grieving sister walked out. “He wouldn’t have done that to his family.”
I’ve only met her a few times when we went over to Andy’s for a pool party or a barbecue, but he never treated his sister anything less than perfect. It’s the only time I ever saw him stand up to Carter—when he wouldn’t leave his sister alone and made a comment about her body. Andy stepped in and warned him. They laughed it off like a joke, but I saw the real protection in his eyes. His sister means the world to him.
“Maybe he did it because he was too involved, or he wanted to protect her,” Cole says, trying to rid my guilt but it doesn’t work. “Maybe he did feel bad about the bomb or—”
“Any of those explanations, they all stem from me,” I cut in, stopping my tears as I watch a blonde head of hair make their way out the gym hall. “Even indirectly, he wouldn’t have been involved if it wasn’t for Matt . . . for me.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” Cole growls, pulling my attention back to him as he shakes his head. His eyes are the harshest I’ve ever seen them. “This is not your fault.”