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“Here.” He handed me a bottle of water, lid unscrewed.
I drank down as much as I could stomach and blinked a couple of times, glancing back at the dance floor. It had calmed, but a lot of people were still hanging around.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I didn’t meet his eyes. The truth was I didn’t know what to feel. Right there, in the thick of it, I’d felt alive. But now, not so much. I would be sore tomorrow.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”
Jace called out “Goodbye,” as we made our way to the door, and I threw him a small wave.
Malachi was quiet on the ride back, and my energy was depleted, so I didn’t make conversation. I watched the town roll by, dark and quiet with only the odd car on the road.
When we pulled up outside my house, I grumbled my thanks and started to climb out.
“I know you’re hurting, Becca,” he said. “But shutting everyone out isn’t going to change anything. Porter is—”
I turned to face him and sighed. “We’re not friends, Malachi. I appreciate what you did, taking me there, but we’re not friends. Thanks for the ride.” I hurried out of the car and kept walking, refusing to let the guilt in.
These people—who took me under their wing—weren’t really my friends. They’d put up with me because Scarlett asked it of them. People kept saying it was to protect me from Kendall, but she’d come after me anyway. They hadn’t saved me. They’d only placed me further in the middle of some high school vendetta I still didn’t understand.
The door swung open before I could dig my key out of my pocket, and Mom’s disapproving eyes glared back at me. She didn’t speak as I slipped past her.I was tired, exhausted from both my shift at the diner and dancing at the bar. All I wanted was to clean the makeup off my face, swallow some Advil, and climb in bed, but she had other ideas.
“Where were you?”
So much for her giving me space. “Out.” I sighed, grabbing the stair rail, careful to angle my sore side away from her.
“Becca, you might be eighteen, but this is unacceptable. Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
My head bowed, and for a second, I felt the weight of her disappointment, but then I remembered how she’d sided with Dad since we discovered the truth about Kane Larson.
“He’s awake, Mom. Do you know what that is doing to me? Do you know what that’s like?” Fear coiled around my heart, choking the air from my lungs. “It was bad enough when I thought he was in a coma. I had to live with what I did every day, but now? Now he’s awake…” My voice trailed off as I held her gaze, fighting back the rush of tears.
“Becca.” She came toward me but paused when I reared back. If she touched me, I would break, and that wasn’t an option.
Her eyes softened a fraction as she spoke. “I want nothing more than to go back in time and erase Kane Larson from our lives. I blame myself, you know, for being too hard on you, demanding too much. Perhaps you wouldn’t have…” Her voice cracked, and she released a heavy sigh.
“It doesn’t matter. We can’t change the past, and now you have to live with the consequences of your actions. We all do. But your father has sacrificed so much, given up so much, to keep you safe. You have to trust him, sweetie. You have to forgive him.”
I stared at her—my mother, the woman supposed to love me unconditionally—and wanted to scream. Even now, she still didn’t get it. She’d been there when I’d sat down in front of my parents and told them about my sordid affair with Kane, told them how what started out as fun became something twisted and volatile. But Mom saw the world in her own strange way, and for her, brushing it aside and referring to it as a lapse in my judgment made it easier for her to swallow. But it lived in me, twisting and tightening around my veins, suffocating me.
We’d left Montecito so I could escape, so I could put it all behind me, but finding that photo pinned to my locker only confirmed my fears. I couldn’t run or hide or bury the past because even if no one else outside my family knew about that night, I knew.
And I couldn’t ever outrun that.
CHAPTER10
EVAN
I watchedher walk across the courtyard, her arm hanging protectively by her side. She was hurt.
Had someone hurt her?
My blood boiled as I clenched my fists at my sides. I’d noticed it first this morning as I’d watched her in the hallway, but hoped it was my imagination.
It didn’t look like I’d imagined it.
Becca balanced her tray on the edge of the table and pushed it into place with one hand before she sat down. Alone. I fucking hated this—hated that she felt the only way to protect herself was to shut everyone out. Before I could stop myself, I’d started in her direction. This shit had to end.
