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Dangerous in a million ways.
“You’re wrong!” Maeve insisted. Her insides were shredding as she walked toward the cafeteria with Nell, Lucy, and that awful new girl, Shaylee. Just because Shaylee was in their pod didn’t mean that they had to hang out with her.
Not that it mattered now.
The rumor was that Andrew Prescott had died. He’d really died. And although Maeve had given up the romantic notion of a suicide pact between Drew and Nona, once she’d learned that there’d been an attack, she had desperately wanted Andrew to live. As if his survival was a valiant act, a way to defy the killer who’d taken his beloved’s life.
Drew’s death, on top of Maeve’s own problems, made life here at Blue Rock unbearable. For the past couple of days, her friends had been trying to convince her to give up on Ethan, to deny that which was the most important, the most vital part of her.
She knew in her heart that Ethan was her true soul mate, the only man she would ever love.
God, she was so miserable, and she couldn’t keep from crying. Her tears froze on her face, tiny diamonds in her eyelashes, and the night wind blew so hard it made her lungs feel frozen. Maeve didn’t know how she’d get through dinner. Of course, she felt a little zing of anticipation because Ethan would be there, but she feared that he wouldn’t spare her a look. He wouldn’t wink, wouldn’t give her any indication that she was special to him, even though he’d said it dozens of times before.
Hadn’t she been there for him during all those awful, ridiculous accusations about him and Ms. Howell? Hadn’t she stood by him? Given him an alibi if he needed it? Didn’t he know that she’d do anything for him? Anything?
Their boots crunched in the snow that was crusting over. She’d never been so cold in her life. But this, the chill of winter, was nothing like the ice that threatened her heart when she thought of losing Ethan.
Ethan loved her, he did. He’d told her so. Every time they’d gone to the hayloft where … Oh, God, she couldn’t think of Nona, how she’d died dangling from the end of a rope.
The lump in her throat was so large she could barely breathe, and the thought that Ethan could be with anyone else was like a thousand daggers in her heart.
“I’m just saying that I saw him with Kaci Donahue,” Lucy said. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
But it is! It’s my life! He’s everything to me! She blinked hard, pretending the snow on her eyelashes was bothering her, when, in truth, she was fighting a losing battle with tears. She loved him. She’d proven it. Letting him touch her and kiss her and make love to her. She would have risked everything for him.
“No guy is worth this,” Shay said, as if she had some experience with this kind of pain. Yeah, well, who needed her opinion anyway?
“Ethan is,” she whispered fervently as they reached the cafeteria and pushed open the doors. The bright lights blinded her, and the smell of Mrs. Pruitt’s shepherd’s pie made her gag. Bile rose up her throat, and it was all she could do to swallow it back. She couldn’t let any of the staff know how she felt. She cleared her throat and whispered, “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”
“Uh-oh.” Nell’s gaze swept across the wood-paneled interior to a far table, where Ethan was seated alone with Kaci. “I can’t believe he has the balls to show up here with her.”
“They’re both TAs,” Lucy pointed out.
Maeve wanted to disappear through the floor. She grabbed the band on her wrist and snapped it hard, harder. She needed to feel a pain to drown out the bleeding in her heart.
“Bastard!” Nell hissed.
Shay said, “She doesn’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Well it’s right in her face!”
For his part, Ethan glanced at Maeve, gave her a quiet, innocuous smile, then turned back to Kaci. Just like that. As if she were just another student he barely recognized, a nobody in Mr. DeMarco’s calculus class. Someone he had to help understand logarithms.
Nothing more.
Zach and Missy joined the other couple, and Maeve thought she might be sick. The two couples looked like they were on some kind of double date.
Maeve took her seat at Mr. Trent’s table. Wedged between BD on one side and Nell on the other, Maeve tried not to focus on Ethan, but it was damned hard. Why didn’t he understand that their love was something so special, something priceless? Under the table, she snapped at her wris
tband, letting the sting keep her in the moment.
The rest of the students took their places, and Reverend Lynch confirmed that Andrew Prescott had died. Somberly, he led them in a prayer while a glum silence fell over the stunned students.
Everyone had known that Drew might die, but it was still weird. Surreal. For a while, out of respect, or just because it was expected, everyone was quiet, the shepherd’s pie and salad passed around the tables with very little conversation.
That changed midway through the meal as people began to talk in hushed tones, then with more animation over the clatter of flatware and clink of plastic glasses. Maeve had taken a serving of the pie and a slice of bread, but when it came to actually eating, she couldn’t manage a bite. And the buzz of conversation faded into white noise, punctuated by Kaci Donahue’s trilling laughter.
Tears welled in Maeve’s eyes, and she had to fight to keep them from streaming down her cheeks, so she squished her bread into small dough balls and thought of ways to make Ethan love her again.
