But all good things come to an end.
The anger bubbles up out of nowhere again, and I pick up the glass globe. It fits in the palm of my hand, just big enough that it’s hard to wrap my fingers all the way around it. The stand is glass, all the pieces are delicate and ornate.
Where did she get it?
Why did she leave it behind?
I chuck it at my wall, and it doesn’t explode into shards like I expect—like I hope. All it does is separate from the stand with a tiny crack, and the world rolls under my bed.
I take a deep breath and go back to the window. There are scrape marks in the paint on the sill. Evidence that someone gouged into the wood in order to unlock it. Whoever did it could come back, and that makes me act.
I call Willow.
She answers on the third ring. The noises behind her almost drown out her voice, but she yells at me to hold on, and then the voices fade.
“Hey, where are you?”
I dig my nails into my palm. “Um, home.”
I explain the situation quickly. That I got home and took a shower, and when I came out there was someone in my room. They came in through my window. That I don’t think she should come home tonight—either that, or she should come home immediately and save me from going absolutely insane.
“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I lie.
“Oh, wait—”
“Violet?”
I grimace at the new voice. Knox, I think. I’ve never spoken to him on the phone, and it gives his voice a different quality. Willow’s in the background. Saying something to him.
“Someone broke in?”
“Yeah. I just—”
“Who the fuck would do that?” He pauses. “I’ll take care of it.”
It? What it?
Is Willow the it?
“Thanks,” I say, instead of asking the questions I want to ask. “Can I talk to Willow again?”
He grunts, and then her voice is in my ear.
“He looks mad,” she whispers, breaking off to giggle. “You good?”
“Yeah. Is… um, is Greyson there?”
If rolling eyes had a sound, that’s what would be coming through the phone right now. I can practically feel her judgment—and her curiosity. I told her what I could, but beyond admitting that he was the one who hit me and broke my leg, there’s not much I could say without incriminating her.
I still want her to be able to look him in the eye. Because if she can’t, then I’m fucked. He’s smart. He’d be able to tell why my best friend is suddenly icing him out… and then other people might pick up on it, too.
She doesn’t have a good poker face. Not enough to save either of us.
“He got here about an hour ago,” she says. “I mean, we’re at his house. So.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Oh?”