“Do you know how shit it makes me feel when I hear you say those things about other people? It scares the hell out of me,Hunter. All I can think about is what youreallymustthink about me. What you might be saying about me behind my back.”
“It’s not the same. And this is our secret.”
“Maybe it’s not the same to you,” she points out. “But it is to me. Because realistically, how can you genuinely care when you hold so much hatred in just your pinky finger alone?”
Dropping my head, I let out a sigh. “I don’t hate them, Pey. I don’t know how I feel to be honest.”
“Were you like this toward her?” Peyton asks suddenly. “The night of the fire when you were trapped with Bexley. Did you treat her like this when she was trapped and dying?”
My head snaps back up, but I can’t form words. It’s as if they are stuck in my throat, choking me like the thick smoke that stole from both of us that night.
A peer. An equal.
Our hands entwined. Her pleading words.
“I won’t let go. You’re not alone, Bexley. I got you.”
No one knows the full truth from that night—not even Rylan or Tai. How would I even be able to put that confession into words when I can’t even admit the entire story out loud?
“It needs to be you.”
My brows furrow, completely forgetting Peyton is waiting for my response. All I can focus on is that sentence again. I’ve replayed it in my mind at least one hundred times since that night. Bexley sounded so confident, so sure of herself, even as the fire rushed toward us. She knew what she was sacrificing. And despite everything that had happened between us—all the pain, all the bullshit remarks and insults—she still chose to save me instead of herself.
I’m a piece of shit.
The sudden blinding of car headlights brings me back to the present as gravel crunches under tire wheels.
I find Peyton’s eyes, but before I can speak, she just shakes her head in disappointment, turning her back on me, and climbing into the rear of the awaiting car.
I watch as she pulls away, a heavy, crushing feeling inside my chest.
No, Peyton. I didn’t treat Bexley like that. But you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the truth.
No one would.
Chapter two
Rylan
My calves scream with fiery agony as my lungs fight to pull in breaths of air.
Ever since Friday night, I’ve been locked in survival mode, using all of my energy to run or feign some semi-realistic portrayal of composure. It’s exhausting, and it’s as though I’ve forgotten all the basics on how to function.
Lawless Dragons blasts through my earbuds, but even with the fast beat, I can’t seem to find my normal pace. I can’t even remember how to breathe correctly, but at this point, I don’t really care anymore.
The pain feels good, and that’s all that matters.
A few people give me courteous nods as I run past them on the trail, but they may as well just be invisible. It makes me sick seeing people happy. Everyone has continued on with life, blissfully unaware of how fucked up it is.
I can’t crucify them, even though I want to. Innocent people just enjoying their morning walk don’t deserve my wrath. It’s not their fault.
It’s mine.
I should have been there with Bexley. I never should have left the dance to go for a walk.
I thought I was doing the right thing letting her have a private moment with Tai. Well, as private as a public dance can be. The idiot had been bragging all day about his outfit, and I wanted to be the bigger person—even if I wanted to strangle him for the genius idea of matching Bexley’s costume. Goddamn Sophia for spilling it to him.
I had considered also turning up in some type of matching attire, but then shit would be weird. The last thing I needed was to cause even more of a scene. Word had already gotten back to my father about our kiss, likely thanks to Liv’s big mouth. He wasted no time berating me, and even though I made up some poor excuse about it all being an act, he didn’t care.