“But that doesn’t justify doing it to someone else,” I say, pulling away even though it hurts so much I can barely breathe.
Royal nods, his jaw still set, his face hard. “I know.”
“Then how can you ask me to forgive you?”
He searches my eyes. “What?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. I watch the realization grind slowly into place. What they did to him, he did to me. When they hurt him, he destroyed their family, killed and mutilated people, burned them, destroyed their lives one by one. He knows he would never forgive them. So how can he expect me to forgive him when he did the same to me?
His face may have been set in stone while I cried, but for a moment, his eyes were more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen them. Now, though, the depth and pain in them fades, hardening like lava after the volcano erupts. I want to tell him to stop closing himself to me again, that he has to stay open to me. It’s what I wanted so much for so long, I can’t turn off that longing. But that’s not fair. So I swallow the knot of spiked iron in my throat and let him wall himself up in the hell inside his head, where no one can reach him.
I have a chance, and I know I might never get it again. But I can’t go there again. Last time I climbed over his walls, it nearly killed me.
When his eyes are as flat and solid as a prison wall, he nods. “You’re right,” he says, standing. “I won’t bother you again.”
Our eyes meet for one moment, and then he turns and walks away. My body feels as if it’s floating, out of touch with reality.
This is it. The end.
I feel it in a way I haven’t before, not when he dumped me or even when he said I was dead to him. When I was at Preston’s and I hadn’t seen him in months, I still felt him somewhere, as if I knew we weren’t finished. He wasn’t finished with me.
Now, he is.
I should be relieved. It’s what I wanted. He’s letting me go at last. He finally understands the severity of what he did, what it did to me. I finally found the way out of the maze, found the weapon that could cut me free of the net he snared me in. But there’s no relief, no feeling of freedom or lightness. I bite down on my fist as the tears start again, my chest folding in on itself as I watch him go. Some stupid, infuriating part of me waits for him to come and comfort me, to hold me like he has when I cried before—in his bathroom after our first time, in the truck after he said he’d never leave me alone.
But this time was the last time.
He doesn’t come and wrap me in his arms again. He steps out of my house, and he closes the door behind him. Maybe he thinks it’s a test. He’s proving himself. Giving me what I said I wanted. Leaving me alone.
Or maybe it means he’s really done, that he knows he has no right to comfort me when he’s the one who always makes me cry. This time, he’s not here to hold me. I listen to his engine start. I hear his car drive away. When it’s quiet outside, I wrap my arms around myself, and I cry alone because it’s finally over. He’s really gone.
thirty-three
Harper Apple
I hate myself for watching my mirrors for Royal the next morning. I hate that some sick part of me hurts that he’s not behind me, that he’s not in the spot next to mine at school when I arrive. Everything I felt for him was real, and it didn’t just disappear when he hurt me. It’s still there, all twisted around the pain like a malformed tree and even more fucked up than ever.
It’s hatred, but it’s still love, too, some perverted form of it. It’s sympathy for what he went through, something that breaks my fucking heart, but it’s also a bone deep inner resistance to forgiveness. Even if I wanted to forgive, I can’t. When I think about it, something rebels inside me, like a steel trap snapping shut, keeping even me at bay. If I had control of my heart, I’d never have fallen for him to begin with.
Before I know it, I’m back at Willow Heights, where I have to pretend. I wonder if this is how Gloria feels, faking every second of her life. Here, I have to be on alert, to watch for snakes in the grass and hawks circling in the sky. Everyone has the potential to be an enemy, to swoop in or strike and snatch away the treasure I’m guarding so closely. No one knows I have it yet, but if I wait too long, it will lose its power.
Royal’s word is still golden, but his influence will ebb as the new order is set in stone. I’m not too late, though. The balance has been upset, and everyone hasn’t quite found their places in the new regime. I have to strike fast, but I can’t be reckless. If I time my reveal just right, leverage Royal’s status and whatever sway conveys to the holder of the key, I can make an impact. I have to do it before the twins find a way to undermine me, and Royal’s social currency loses its value or his brothers tell everyone he’s no longer involved with me.
I head inside and track down the girl with her finger on the pulse of the school—Dixie. I need to know what cards the twins are holding that I haven’t seen, which means I need to know everything I missed so far this year, when the twins have been ruling the halls of Willow Heights.
After striking out in the halls, I openOnlyWordsand shoot her a message, wondering if she’s under the bleachers with Colt. But a second later, I get a text that she’s in the café, so I join her for breakfast. Only about half the lunch crowd eats breakfast, and half of those people are groggy and barely awake, so the café is sparsely populated and pretty quiet at eight in the morning. I grab a bagel and slide in next to Dixie and Josie.
“Tea, please?” I ask without bothering to do the whole small talk thing.
“Okay,” Dixie says. “Though usually I’m the one asking for tea.”
“Gloria caught me up on last year,” I say. “What’d I miss so far this year?”
“Colt’s back,” Dixie says.
“I know,” I say. “Are you two back together officially? Like, openly? Is he allowed to have a girlfriend? Or are they still ostracizing him?”
She shrugs. “I really don’t know, Harper. You were the one in with the Dolces. Maybe you should ask them.”