Nothing about his expression told me he was hiding something from me, but I knew he was. “He hit her. Like Jeremy had hit me.”

The line of his jaw tightened, and then he pursed his lips, letting out a low whistle as he looked away. “I don’t know what to say, Tess.”

“Maybe that you’re now double glad that you beat him up?”

His eyes locked with mine, the color a startling shade of silver. He opened his mouth and then seemed to rethink what he was about to say. His broad shoulders tensed.

“I know,” I whispered. “Deb told me last night.”

“Last night,” he repeated dumbly. “And you’re just now saying something?” He laughed as a muscle thumped in his jaw. “You know, I knew something was up with you. You’ve been too quiet. You didn’t eat the cupcake immediately. I thought maybe your knee was bothering you.”

I tucked my hair back behind my ears. “You didn’t tell me.”

He drew in a deep breath and then slid out of the booth, rising as he grabbed my crutches. “Let’s take this conversation outside.”

Since it wasn’t a dinner type of conversation, I waited until we were in the Jeep before pushing the subject. “You went after him.”

“I didn’t go after him, Tess. It wasn’t like with Cam. I know that’s what you’re getting at. That wasn’t my intention. I ran into him at the frat house when I came back from my parents’ place. He was sitting on the couch like he hadn’t a f**king care in the world.”

Holding my breath, I watched him as he leaned forward and turned the key. The engine roared to life and he didn’t speak again until he was out on the main road, cruising toward Interstate 70. “And all I could think was that he f**king ended your dreams. He took that from you and I didn’t give a f**k if it was an accident or not. He did that.”


Erik had. “Jase—­”

“After everything you’ve been through, I had to say something. I had to,” he went on, his profile stark in the shadows of the car’s interior. “I told him that he needed to stay away from you and no more accidents better happen. That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say to him, and, yeah, I might not have said it that nicely, but I wanted to get my point across.”

What he was saying was the same as Deb had said, so his next words didn’t surprise me.

“But then he said some shit, Tess. Stuff that no one should ever say about you, and I made sure he didn’t say anything else.”

There wasn’t pride in his voice. Maybe the smugness of a man who knew he’d put another man—­and I used the term man for Erik loosely—­in his place. “You hit him.”

He glanced at me, expression hard. “I did.”

“And that’s all you have to say about that?”

Turning his gaze back to the dark road, he ran one hand through his messy hair. “I don’t regret it.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Neither did Cam.”

“This isn’t the same. I didn’t beat the shit out of Erik. I didn’t end up in jail or put a boy in a hospital,” he spat out, and I flinched. “Shit, Tess. That’s not what I mean—­”

“You know how I feel about what Cam did and how guilty it made me feel. Cam nearly ruined his life because of my—­”

“And that wasn’t your fault! What he did wasn’t your fault. What I did wasn’t your fault. Erik ran his mouth and I hit him. Okay. I hit him two times.”

Blood pounded through my veins as I struggled to make sense of what I was feeling. Most of the confusion came from the fact that there was a little, teeny tiny part of me that was glad he’d given Erik a taste of his own medicine. And I’d felt that way when I first heard what Cam had done.

And I didn’t know what that said about me.

I stared at the dark blurs of the trees lining the interstate. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I . . .” He swore again. “I knew you’d get upset. I was hoping Debbie wouldn’t say anything.”

My hands curled in my lap. “Did you really think she wouldn’t?”

“Would you want ­people to know your boyfriend got owned? No. I thought she wouldn’t say anything. I know that’s wrong. I’m sorry. But I would rather you hadn’t known.”

The unapologetic nature of his response made his apology hard to swallow. It wasn’t that he was being a jerk about it, just that he hadn’t regretted it. “You promised me you wouldn’t say anything.”

“I promised to not say anything to Cam, which I haven’t. And trust me. Eric isn’t going to say shit to him, because then he’d have to tell your brother why I gave him a black eye, which is all I did.” The hand with the busted knuckles curled around the steering wheel. “Shit, you didn’t enjoy yourself tonight, did you? This is supposed to be our first—­I don’t know. Fuck. Our first date and this whole time you were pissed off.”

I sat in silence, rigidly still. Tonight was our first real date, except it hadn’t felt like that. Not because I didn’t want to be with him, but because of what had been lingering over my head and his.

“I should’ve told you Wednesday. I shouldn’t have tried to keep it from you. That’s where I f**ked up.” There was a beat of silence. “Tess, say something.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I slowly unclenched my hands. What could I say? It wasn’t just him who’d ruined this night—­ruined what was supposed to be this monumental step in our current closet relationship. I could’ve said something the moment I saw him. Or when he’d texted me earlier in the day or when I sent him a text before I went to bed. And I didn’t. We could’ve cleared the air and then enjoyed ourselves. Hopefully.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted finally.

Jase didn’t respond, and that was that for the thirty minutes or so the car ride back to my dorm took. Maybe I was overreacting. He hadn’t done what Cam had done, but he still had lied, and in the end, he took things to a physical level in retribution.

But Erik had provoked Jase.

My brain hurt by the time the Jeep idled up to the curb. Like the night before, he went to turn off the engine, but I stopped him. I needed to get my head straight.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said.

He stared at me for a moment and then nodded. “Let me get your crutches at least.”


Easing out of the Jeep, I put my weight down on my good leg and waited until he pulled my crutches out of the backseat and handed them to me. I had the distinct feeling that as I met his steely gaze, he was more upset with this than I probably understood.

I started to invite him up, but he cupped my cheeks gently, leaned down, pressed his lips to mine, and kissed me so softly I was acutely reminded of the inherent tenderness inside of Jase. “Are we okay?” he asked, and I felt the ground drop out from under my feet.

The idea of us not being good before we even had a chance to do something with this relationship was a cold smack in the face. The words burst from me, surprising me. “It’s not just that it reminded me of what Cam did. It reminded me of him—­of everything I felt while I was with him and everything I felt afterward.”

Jase closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered.

He didn’t look like he believed me. “You sure?”

I nodded because I was unable to speak. His fingers slipped away, and he jerked his chin toward the entrance.

“I’ll wait until you get inside.”

Emotion clogged my throat. “Good night, Jase.”

“Night,” he murmured.

It was when I was in the brightly lit lobby that I realized I’d left my cupcake and my heart out there. I twisted at the waist, burning to hobble outside and to just forget about everything, but like Jase had promised, he’d waited until I made it inside.

The Jeep was gone.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I headed to the elevator. Regret burned like food that didn’t set right in the stomach, but him leaving was probably a good thing. I needed to sort my head out.

I still didn’t know what to think or how to feel, but how could I stay mad? And should I? All I wanted to do was sleep. Tomorrow I would know what to say to him.

When I flipped on the light, it flickered once and then went out, pitching the room back into darkness.

“Fudge pucker,” I muttered as I hobbled around the coffee table, knocking the edges of the crutches into it. I found the little lamp and flipped it on. The energy-­saving bulb only cast enough light that I wouldn’t break my neck getting around the room. I propped my crutches in the corner and turned.

I groaned. “Are you f**king kidding me?”

A pink scarf dangled from the cracked open door. Deb had broken up with the jerk! And they were in there screwing? Anger whirled through me, spitting fire into my blood. I was going to beat both of them with my crutches. And that would be great, because then I couldn’t be mad at Jase for hitting Erik. At least knocking them upside their heads would solve one of my problems.

I limped toward the door. Pain flared up my leg as I felt my knee start to slide in the brace, but I stormed forward and pushed the door open. The room was pitch-­black and surprisingly quiet. No grunts or moans or bedsprings squeaking as someone tried to cover themselves.

Tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose. “Debbie?” My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness as I reached for the light switch. “Are you . . . ?”

The light didn’t turn on.

I tried it again, hearing the switch flick, but there was ­nothing . . . nothing but a strange creaking sound. Almost like a loose floorboard.

A chill snaked down my spine as I swallowed hard. “Deb?”

There was no response. Just the creak . . . creak . . . creak.

Instinct screamed for me to turn and run away. Fear sunk its icy claws deep inside me as I stepped farther into the room, blinking my eyes. I tried calling her name out again, but no words formed. They were frozen inside me.

The darkness started to loosen its grip on the room. Shadows took on deeper forms, more solid, more substance—­

I bounced into something, something that shouldn’t be there in the middle of the room, shouldn’t be swaying back and forth, making that creaking sound.

Air hitched in my throat as I lifted my head, my sight slowly returning to me.

Two bare legs—­pale, bare legs.

A dark sleep shirt.

Two arms hanging limply at the sides.

The air punched out of my lungs as realization set in, but—­oh God—­I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t. There was no way. A cry worked its way up.

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t her brown hair shielding half of her face. It wasn’t her mouth gaping open. It wasn’t Debbie hanging from the light fixture in our dorm room. It couldn’t be her.

A terrible sound filled the suite, hurting my ears. The sound didn’t stop, but kept coming and coming. There were voices in the background, shouts of alarm, hands gripped my shoulders as my legs went out from underneath me, but the screams were louder than everything.

It was me screaming, I realized dumbly. I couldn’t stop. I’d never stop.

Debbie had hung herself.

Chapter Twenty

Things happened in a continuous blur that I was detached from. Eventually I stopped screaming, only because my voice gave out. The hands that had tried to stop me from falling belonged to the most unlikely person ever. Our suitemate.

And our suitemate turned out to be the half-­naked chick from Jase’s room—­Steph. Any other time I would’ve laughed at the irony. That the MIA suitemate was her of all ­people. I almost did laugh, but I stopped it before it could bubble up, because I knew if I started laughing, I’d never stop.

Beautiful Steph, with her raven-­colored hair pulled in a high ponytail and wearing sleep shorts that were shorter than the chicks at Hooters wore, had tried to talk to me once I was in the too-­bright lobby, sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs with its hard cushions. She’d given up when all I could do was stare at her blankly.

Debbie was dead.

A shudder rocked through me, followed by a series of less powerful shivers.

The lobby was full of ­people huddled in corners, some whispering and others crying. ­People were hugging one another. Others looked shell-­shocked by the knowledge that a few floors above us, someone was dead.

Steph returned to my side with a blanket and draped it over my shoulders. I murmured a barely audible “Thank you.” She nodded as she sat beside me. Another girl, someone I knew I recognized but couldn’t place, approached us.

“Not now,” Steph snapped, causing me to jump.

The girl stopped, her bare toes curling on the lobby floor. “But—­”

“But I don’t care,” she interrupted. “Leave her alone.”

I blinked dumbly as the girl wheeled around and disappeared back into a huddle. A few minutes later a guy started toward us, and Steph sent him off, too. She was like a watchdog.

Red and blue lights from outside the dorm cast strange flashes across the lobby, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Debbie had hung herself.

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I couldn’t even begin to understand why she had done it. Last night she had made such a big decision and this morning she’d been okay as she talked about going to her parents and now . . .

She was dead.

The campus police finally came down to talk to me; one of the younger officers crouched down and in low, even tones, asked me to recount how I came to find her. When they asked if Debbie had been acting strange in the last ­couple of days, I sucked in a shuddering breath.