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Back when they’d been the unequivocal rulers of campus, they’d thrown monthly parties in their dorm building, with most students cramming into the main common room while a few hung out in the VIP section in the back study rooms. That was where the Princes always ended up, and where they’d brought me when I’d gone in the past—away from the press of bodies into a private room.
It’d been at one of those parties that they’d let me drink too much and had taken pictures of me while I was passed out, and I could see the concern in Finn’s expression as he told me they’d be hosting another one. I knew they hated to give me reminders of what they’d done to me, of how deep and insidious their betrayal had been.
Not like I could ever really forget.
A few days before the party, flyers and banners started going up around school announcing senior prom. I vaguely remembered seeing them the previous year too, but I’d been too distracted by everything else going on in my life at the time to notice.
College acceptance letters had started coming in too, and it wasn’t all that uncommon to see kids either bragging or crying in the halls as they found out their fates.
I had applied to a few schools the previous semester, but I’d been seriously considering taking a few years off to dance—if I’d been able to accept the offer from Pacific Contemporary Ballet, that was exactly what I would’ve done.
Now? I wasn’t so sure what my plan was.
Shoving down the disheartening thoughts of what could’ve been, I finished up the last of my at-home physical therapy exercises on Thursday before stepping into the shower. Then I changed into a pair of dark skinny jeans and a white, flowy top. It was getting warm enough for sandals, but they hurt my leg and didn’t offer enough support, so I changed into a pair of boring but comfortable shoes.
When I stepped out of the bedroom, Cole, who was on Talia babysitting duty, glanced up from the couch. His gaze swept over me appreciatively, and his expression didn’t even change when his focus reached my clunky shoes.
“Ready?” he asked, glancing up at my face again.
“Yeah. You?”
He nodded, then rose from the couch and headed for the door, holding it open for me.
I was still slow on stairs, but he walked patiently beside me, letting me use his arm for a bit of support as I challenged my ankle to bend like it should. The breaks in my knees had been all soft tissue—healing from compound bone fractures in addition to soft tissue injuries was a whole different ballgame, I was discovering.
As we made our way at a snail’s pace across campus, my arm still looped into his, I glanced up at him. I was learning to read the micro-changes in his expressions even when he kept his face carefully blank, but it wasn’t a perfect system. Out of all the Princes, including Mason, Cole was still the most closed off.
“You going home again this weekend?” I asked, studying his face.
A flicker of anger passed over his features, then it cleared as he nodded. “Yup.”
“Cole? What’s—what’s been going on?”
He stiffened beside me, his gait unconsciously picking up speed. I tugged on his arm, and he slowed, but he didn’t look at me. “Nothing.”
“Is your dad—”
The broad-shouldered boy shook his head. “He’s… he’s fine. A few of his business buddies saw that video you took, but he told them he just needed to set me straight. That it was that or the military.” His steps slowed even more, and he turned to look at me. “Were you… under my couch?”
His words surprised me so much that I stopped walking entirely. It was a valid question, just not at all what I’d been expecting him to say.
“Um. Yeah.”
He shot me a look that was part annoyance, part disbelief, and part respect, and I shrugged.
“Hey, all’s fair in love and war.”
Cole was still staring at me, his bright blue eyes penetrating. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Is he—?” I knew he didn’t want to talk about this anymore, but I couldn’t let it go until I had some answers. This was the most he’d spoken about his dad in weeks. “Are you… safe?”
“Enough.” He shrugged. “Like you said, sometimes it stops for a while. And at least I get to see Penny every weekend now.”
Something loosened a little in my chest as he spoke, although new worries rose up almost immediately to fill the space.
Maybe his dad was trying to prove to the world—or himself—that he wasn’t a truly abusive parent. That his treatment of his son had been for Cole’s own benefit, that he’d only done it to straighten him out. The same way people sliding into addiction kept telling themselves they could quit anytime.
But at least it gave Cole a small respite.
