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My stomach twists to the point at which I worry I might be about to puke as I think back over last night. The way she let me treat her.
I push the door wide and retch, but nothing comes.
I ignore all the messages apart from one.
Levi: Unit 6. The Docks. You in?
My hand trembles as I stare down at his words.
They're vague, but I know exactly what he's asking me. Just like I know there's only one answer.
Conner: On my way.
I restart the car and spin it around so I can head toward the Heights. My grip on the wheel tightens as I imagine my already busted up knuckles making contact with some asshole’s face.
Maybe that will make me feel better. The punching bag in the gym sure did shit all.
Chapter Seventeen
Kennedy
Conner gave up.
It’s what I want... what I thought I wanted. But I can’t deny as I search the halls for him on Monday that I find the pang of disappointment festering inside me.
I know I deserve it. After our amazing night together, I freaked and ran. Again. But he still doesn’t know the truth about Warren.
Not the whole truth, anyway.
“Hadley,” I say, spotting her down the hall.
“Oh, uh, hi.” She keeps walking. “I’ve got an appointment.”
“You have?” I frown, falling into step beside her. “You didn’t wait for m
e this morning.”
“I had to come in early.”
A tingle zips up my spine as I take in her skittish expression. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her smile is strained.
“I haven’t seen Conner, is he—”
“I really need to go, Kennedy, but we’ll catch up soon, okay?”
I watch her walk away, my brows furrowing. That was weird. And then it hits me, she’s taking his side. My stomach sinks. I thought Hadley got it, that she understood.
I should have known better.
Hitching my bag up my shoulder, I double back around and head for my next class. When I enter the room, Marissa glares at me. I ignore her, dragging my ass to my desk. It’s next to the window, which is where I spend the next thirty minutes staring, unable to focus.
Pulling my cell out, I discreetly cradle it in my lap, finding Conner’s number. The urge to text him burns through me, but as I read all his unanswered texts, guilt gnaws at me. He’s angry. But so I am I.
It’s like I’m two people—the Kennedy who wants to forgive and forget, and the Kennedy who can’t let go. If Conner had never left the Heights, if he’d claimed me as his own, I would have never ended up with Warren. I wouldn’t have lived the last six months of my life in sheer terror.
At first, it was all new and exciting. Warren was insatiable, constantly touching me and kissing me. It was heady to know a guy like Warren wanted a girl like me. But it quickly became suffocating. School had ended by then, and Conner was around less and less.
