The Secrets We Carry, Page 2

  “Yeah, well…” he scratches the back of his neck, seeming uncomfortable .

  “All right, Beck, just spill it,” I demand. “Because this whole twitchy, squirrelly thing you’ve got going on right now doesn’t suit you .”

  “Doesn’t suit me?” He purposefully eyes my getup. “Have you taken a look in the mirror lately ?”

  I put a hand on my hip. “Are you saying I can’t pull this look off ?”

  He promptly shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” He sighs. “But this whole goth, grunge look you’ve been sporting the last month or so isn’t you .”

  “So I decided to change my look.” I shrug. “People change all the time, especially in college .”

  “Yeah, but …” He struggles for words. Odd. Beck is the most chatty, outgoing person I know. Well, except for the old me. She was practically the female version of Beck. “You changed so suddenly.” He casts a quick glance at my face. “And it’s not just your clothes either. It’s the way you carry yourself.” A puzzled frown forms on his lips. “You barely smile anymore .”

  It takes every ounce of energy to make my lips spread into a plastic smile. “I’m smiling right now .”

  He shakes his head while sighing. “Don’t do that. We’re too good of friends for you to fake anything in front of me. Same goes for Wills, Luna, and Ari. We’re all worried about you.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze .

  While Beck has never, ever done anything to hurt me, I stupidly flinch from his touch. I’m not even positive why, other than that rope around my chest suddenly tightens .

  Beck more than notices, too, concern cramming his eyes .

  “You’re shaking.” He stares at me with so much worry I feel as though I’m drowning in it. “What the hell is going on?” When my lips remain fused together, he slants closer. “Please just talk to me .”

  Talk to him, Wynter .

  Just open your mouth and utter the words .

  It’s not that hard .

  “Don’t utter a fucking word,” he whispers. “I don’t know how many times I have to stress that. If you do, you know what will happen. You’ve been told enough” His breath is hot against my cheek. I want to throw up. “You can only tell your dad. Pass along the message never to fuck with us again .”

  My heart quivers in my chest, but I will my voice to come out even. “There’s nothing to tell.” I laugh it off. The sound shrivels my heart. “Quit being such a weirdo.” I step back, shifting my books in my hands. “I have to go to class, okay? I’ll catch up with you later.” I hurriedly turn away to avoid seeing the hurt and worry filling his eyes .

  I hate that he worries .

  I hate that anyone worries about me .

  I hate that I make them worry .

  Even if I told them, they’d worry. And not just about me. No, if I divulge the truth, they’d have a lot more shit to be concerned about—like their own safety. And I can’t do that to them. I can’t make them suffer like I am. And what happens if they don’t believe me? After all, my parents acted like they didn’t. I highly doubt they wouldn’t believe me, though. My friends are much better people than my parents .

  Still, even if I decide to risk their safety by telling them, I’m not sure if I could handle the looks they’d give me when they found out. Pity. Sadness. The way the pity and sadness would make me feel. And the shame I keep deep down inside me might rush to the surface and tear me apart .

  No, I can’t do it. Can’t tell them. I decided that after I went to my parents for help .

  Sucking back the tears threatening to pour out, I haul ass into the building and toward class, wishing I had smoked a little bit more before I came here .

  As I pass the clock in the communal area, I note the time and let out a string of curses. Fuck, I’m going to be late again. And everyone is going to look at me. Again .

  No, I can still make it , I attempt to convince myself .

  I quicken my pace, weaving around people. Then, as I near the edge of the hallway that leads to my English class, I slow to a halt as two guys appear in my path. Not just any two guys either, but Travis Marilellie and one of his frat buddies whose name I can’t remember but will figure out even if it kills me .

  I will remember everything. No matter what it takes .

  My legs tremble as sharp, bright, bleeding images flash through my mind in blurry, incomprehensible fragments .

  While I can recall the general gist of what happened that night, not every detail is bright and clear, like the faces and names of those who took part in breaking me. I remember Travis’s voice, his scent, and at least a dozen other voices. Laughter. Screaming. Although, I think that might have been my screams. As for faces, that part is a blur. I’m not sure why. Whether the trauma caused me to forget or if I was drugged up when the incident happened. The reason doesn’t matter. Remembering is more important. And to remember, I must face my fear head-on, something that dawned on me about a month after the incident .

  I’d been so afraid back then, running away every time I saw Travis or any of his frat buddies. I hated myself so much for being so scared. Hated that fear owned me. Then, one day Travis had smiled at me, that stupid fucking smile that had charmed me to go out with him to begin with. Only, this time I saw what resided behind that smile. Saw what lay in his eyes .

  Darkness and hatred .

  Pure and utter evil .

  And that fucking smile did something to me. Made me want to shatter his soul like he had shattered mine. Made me want to be able to give him the same exact smile .

  That’s when the idea came to me. That I wanted—needed —to get revenge. The problem with getting revenge on someone like Travis, though? It isn’t simple. With his high status in the community, and his rock star football god status in school, turning him into the police more than likely won’t work, and he’ll end up getting off, just like a lot of the people in his family have. Plus, he could easily make due on his threat if I went to the police, which was the main reason I never went right after the attack happened. That and my dad demanded I didn’t. Demanded I keep my mouth shut. That it’d do no good if I spoke up. That no one would believe me. That he didn’t believe me .

  Between that and the threats the guys gave me about hurting my friends and me if I told anyone, I just couldn’t bring myself to speak up. Whatever version of Wynter I had become, I still can’t get rid of the need to help the people I care about. Can’t seem to will my shattered soul to disappear completely. That just leaves me with getting my revenge in a different form .

  While I haven’t figured out the exact details, I’ve done the revenge thing enough to know I should start with learning more about the guys who hurt me. It’s what I’ve done in the past. Usually, though, my revenge plots consisted of putting a snobby cheerleader in her place or shutting up a douchebag who was spreading rumors about my friends. Never have I gone up against an entire frat. An entire frat that consists of sons of some of the wealthiest, most powerful and respected families in the entire state. A son of the mayor. A son of the owner of half the businesses in town. A son of a preacher. Those are just a few examples .

  As Travis and his friend continue to head toward me, oblivious to my presence, I lower my head and duck behind one of the massive, ivory white columns that line the communal area. Then I open a paperback I have with me and pretend to be deeply engulfed in a book. Really, I’m listening, waiting. For what, I’m not sure. Something incriminating perhaps? Yeah, if only this were going to be that easy. I doubt that’s going to be the case. No, if I want to take these pieces of shits down, I’m going to have to dig and dig and dig until I’m surrounded by their dirt .

  Tilting my head, I let my hair veil my face as I watch them from around the column .

  “You decide who you’re bringing to Friday’s party after the game?” Travis’s friend asks as they make their way by me .

  Like always, people glance in their direction, either gawking, checking them out, or eve
n the occasional glaring .

  A sly grin curls at Travis’s lips. “I haven’t narrowed down my options yet. I’m thinking maybe Maci, but last time, she didn’t want to put out for me .”

  “Yeah, so?” his friend snickers. “Like that’s stopped you before .”

  His grin expands as he muses thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I’ll invite Maci. Show her how not to say no .”

  They exchange a fist bump then depart the communal area, grinning like a couple of rich, spoiled brats. Or, well, that’s how it appears to me, the girl who can see the truth now. To most people, Travis and his buddy probably look like a couple of hot, sexy, fun, loving guys. I used to think like everyone else. Now I know better .

  And I want nothing more than for everyone else to see what I see. Starting with this Maci girl .

  Closing my book, I turn to leave, deciding to bail out on class so I can convince Ari, my computer genius friend, to hack into the school records and give me the names and address of all the Maci’s that attend school here .

  I’m stepping out from behind the column, my mind too distracted, and crash straight into a solid, sturdy object … Wait. Nope, not an object. A guy, something I become hyperaware of as I’m about to fall on my ass and a pair of lean, sculpted, tattooed arms loop around my waist, stopping me .

  “Sorry,” the guy apologizes as he steadies me. “I didn’t see you there .”

  As the warmth of his hands seeps into my skin, I hurriedly get my balance and step back out of his reach, my body shuddering from his touch .

  “It’s fine. It was probably more my fault than yours.” I shuffle back. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” I suck in a breath and force my gaze upward. Force myself to get past the fear that the eyes I’m going to meet are going to belong to a face that was there that night .

  The eyes are what I remember the most. Or, well, the looks in them. The way they watched me as they yanked out my soul and shattered it across the bloody carpet. If only I could look every single person on campus in the eyes. Then I’d know who hurt me .

  The moment my gaze meets the stranger’s, I decide he couldn’t have been at the party that night. His eyes are too kind, too soft. Yet, his expression conveys a roughness, a hardness, a wall. That wall is too familiar. I stare at it every time I look in the damn mirror. It makes me wonder what this guy is hiding. What he’s trying to protect himself from ?

  A small smile touches his lips as I make eye contact with him. “I know you, right? You hang out with Willow and Beck ?”

  I nod, eyeing him over. Tall with messily styled sandy brown hair, deep green eyes framed by thick, dark eyelashes, and intricate tattoos ink his lean arms. He’s sporting a short-sleeved black shirt with a tiny hole in the hem, worn black jeans, and scuffed-up boots. None of his clothes are designer and in no way, shape, or form scream wealth .

  Back in the day, I would’ve checked him out—his body and face are too gorgeous not to notice—but I wouldn’t have wanted to date him. Would’ve thought he wasn’t my type because he wasn’t flashy and fancy enough. I might have even seen him as intimidating and frightening. Now I find myself really staring at him and wondering what sort of guy he is. Is he better than Travis and his friends? Is he as kind as his eyes portray? Or is anger and evil hidden behind that wall he has up ?

  How am I supposed to be able to tell any of this simply by looking at someone? The truth is, I can’t. The truth is, I have to get to know someone to understand who they are. But then, by the time I realize if they’re good or not, it could be too late .

  I internally grimace. Why does life have to be complicated? Why can’t bad people just have, like, giant bubbles constantly floating over their heads that reveal what sort of person they are and if they’ve done anything evil? Life would be so much simpler then. And people would get hurt less often .

  The guy continues to smile while I openly dissect his appearance, yet confusion flickers in his eyes. “Is everything okay ?”

  That’s the second time someone has asked me that in the last ten minutes .

  Just how un-okay do I look ?

  I let a curtain of hair fall to the side of my face as I nod. “Yeah, sorry. I was just trying to place your face to a name, but I can’t figure it out.” I offer him an apologetic smile, my lips aching against the foreign movement. “Sorry, I’m really bad with names .”

  “Actually, we haven’t been formally introduced.” An easy smile graces his lips as he sticks out his hand. “Everette Averysen .”

  A drop of relief washes over me as his last name doesn’t send warning flags popping up everywhere .

  I open and flex my hands a couple of times before placing my palm against his. “Wynter Porterrsen .”

  I hold my breath and wait for him to connect my last name to my father, like most people do. But he’s either clueless or doesn’t give a shit .

  “It’s nice to meet you, Wynter.” He ducks his head to meet my gaze, and not because I’m short. No, apparently, my head has been tipped down and I haven’t realized until now. How often do I do that? “And again, I’m sorry I barreled into you. I’m not going to lie, though. I’m not that sorry.” His smile grows as he winks at me. “It’s not every day I get to catch a pretty woman before she falls .”

  That’s about where he loses me. Where any amount of comfort I felt goes poof and my guard slams up .

  Wiggling my hand from his, I cross my arms protectively around myself. “How do you know Beck and Willow ?”

  His brows dip ever so slightly at my sudden standoffish behavior. “I play on the city soccer league. My team plays against Beck’s every other week or so. Willow’s there with him sometimes, and she and I have a couple of classes together .”

  “So, you don’t know them very well then.” I’m very aware I’m being a bitch, but that brief moment where he attempted to flirt with me has me irked for so many reasons, most of which I have a hard time deciphering .

  Perhaps because Travis had flirted with me so much, which was what led to me going to that party with him. Or because I flirted so frequently and invited guys like Travis into my life. Or maybe it simply has to do with the fact that I don’t want to flirt. I don’t want to date. I don’t want guys looking at me like I’m some sort of shiny prize. Then again, I guess Everette hasn’t technically looked at me that way. That smile, though, usually leads to that look. That stupid look I’ve grown to hate .

  Anger roars inside me as my imagination takes over, and Everette’s smile morphs into Travis’s smirk .

  “We’ve hung out a couple times.” Everette stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans, seeming uneasy. “If you’re asking if we’re close, the answer is no .”

  I fold my fingers inward, my fingernails stabbing into my palms. “Then maybe you shouldn’t act like you know my friends just to impress me .”

  He frowns. “That’s not what I was doing at all .”

  “Then why would you even mention them?” I step toward him, my lungs trembling against the invisible, constricting rope wound around my chest. “And better yet, how do you even know I hang out with Willow and Beck when I’ve never even been to a game? Unless you’ve been watching me. Is that what you’ve been doing ?”

  Just like Travis did .

  “I watched you for months,” he whispers as he grabs my hair. “I know everything about you .”

  Everette fleetingly stiffens, then slips his hands out of his pockets and elevates his hands in front of him. “Relax, okay? I wasn’t watching you. I’m not a fucking stalker. I’ve just seen you around campus … with Beck and Willow .”

  I’m so worked up that spots dot along my vision. “Well, stop seeing me, okay? In fact, don’t ever look or talk to me again.” Blasting him with a glare, I brush by him and dash out of the communal area without so much as a second glance back, deciding to skip out on class so I can go home and smoke a bowl. Smoke away this day .

  If I turned around, I’m sure Everette w
ould be gaping at me like I’m a lunatic. Like I’m a bitch. Like I’m a girl he no longer wants to smile at and flirt with. And that’s exactly the girl I need to be .

  The girl no one wants .

  The girl no one smiles at .

  The girl no one sees .

  Four

  Everette

  M y entire life is one big lie. I’ve become one big lie. Not without reason, though .

  No, the lies that burn on my tongue and smoke out into the world are all for a reason. But even with probable cause, lying can make life lonely. Not that I don’t have any friends. I have some, but none who know about my secret life. Even my family only know the basics, not just about my job, but about my life in general .

  A couple people fully understand what I’ve been through—and I mean everything—and those are my friends Reece and Holden. I confided in them one night after I got shitfaced. Broke the fuck down and babbled every detail of my life .

  We’ve been best friends since grade school, and I see them as my brothers. The shit I told them, though, was a lot to take in. I felt bad for unloading my problems onto them, but I had reached my breaking point that day. I had broken the fuck apart as all of it—and I mean all of it—caught up with me. That had been right before I decided to join the agency. I was under a lot of stress. A lot of guilt .

  I’m not going to lie. Breaking down was awful, but may have saved my life .

  Still, now that I’m officially working a case and am in a better place mentally, I try to keep personal shit to myself. I can’t bring anyone innocent into this shit unless I must. At least, that’s what I wish I could do .

  Sadly, the girl who basically just told me to go fuck myself before running away like I’m carrying some viral disease is more than likely going to have to be brought into this mess, whether she’s innocent or not .

  Wynter Porterrsen seems like a nice girl. Or, well, she used to seem nice until a couple months ago when she abruptly changed. Now she’s closed off, angry, high most of the time, and seems to be holding a lot of pain inside her. She also seems to hate my fucking guts. Who can blame her? I just flirted with her and fed her the cheesiest line ever. Definitely not my best move, but according to her file and from what I’ve seen while observing her, she used to be into romantic, sappy, cheesy shit. Apparently, that’s changed. I’m going to have to find another way to win her over .