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The first time he physically hurt me was right after Conner left. I’d been upset, and Warren had gotten so angry.
A shudder rips through me as I force the memories back in their locked box. Something catches my eye out of the window, a trickle of fear racing down my spine, but when I glance up, there’s nothing there.
“Miss Lowe, are you with us?” The teacher quirks a brow at me.
“Yes, sorry.”
Marissa and her friends snicker, throwing shade my way. Stupid bitches. All they have to worry about is getting mani-pedis and what outfit to wear at the next party. They don’t know what it’s like to be so scared you can hardly breathe.
I bet they’ve never laid there at night with tears streaming down their cheeks while the guy who’s supposed to love them fucks them so hard they can’t walk for two days straight.
I bet they haven’t perfected the art of covering up bites and bruises so that people don’t ask too many questions.
They have friends and families and trust funds. Hopes, aspirations, and dreams.
I stopped dreaming a long time ago.
Hadley never showed. I didn’t see her after school, and she never waited this morning. I can’t shake the feeling I’ve been dumped for Team Conner.
It sucks, but it’s nothing new. I’m used to being alone. Like in the Heights, people knew what Warren was doing—they had to—but no one ever tried to intervene. They never tried to help me. Sure, Shelbie had given me a place to stay a couple of times when it got really bad, but every time she watched me go back to him, as if there wasn’t another option.
Maybe there wasn’t.
Maybe this, being here in the Bay, is just a fantasy, a dream, and the reality is that soon I’ll wake up and everything will go back to how it was before.
Shaking off the grim thoughts, I file into the stream of kids all headed to first period. It feels pointless being here, like I’m playing at someone else’s life.
I sense Conner before I see him. A warm current trickles up my spine and I turn slowly, finding him in the crowd. My stomach churns and I gasp as I take in his bruised face. It’s worse this time. One of his eyes is almost closed thanks to the swelling, and there’s a nasty cut on his lip.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m moving toward him. “Conner,” I breathe. “What did you do?”
His eyes meet mine, but the boy I once loved more than anything isn’t staring back at me. This is a stranger. His expression is dark, his gaze dead.
“So now you care?” he grits out.
“You were fighting again?” My fingers itch to touch him, to trace the ugly, tender skin. But I hold back. Anger swirls around him like a vortex, making the air hard to breathe.
“Conner, you can’t go back there. It isn’t—"
“Fuck you, Kennedy. Fuck. You,” he seethes, getting in my face. “Why the hell should I tell you anything when you’re the one keeping secrets?”
“I...” Realization slams into me and I stagger back a little. “You... k-know?”
His eyes shutter as he drags in a ragged breath.
“But how?”
Another bolt of realization hits, followed by a sinking feeling.
Hadley.
She told him.
It all makes sense now.
Betrayal snakes through me, coiling inside my chest until I feel like I can’t breathe. I should have known I couldn’t trust her.
People are watching. I feel their stares burn into my back as I remain trapped in Conner’s icy gaze. His injuries are even worse up close.
