I think of him in his blue suit, sitting in a dingy room, but the image isn’t quite as clear as before. Things have changed since the last time I saw him. Then, I was the poor girl from Devon Park pretending to be rich like him. Now, Vale Hall is my home, and he’s the one scraping to get by.
We reach the entrance to the gardens, where Barry Buddha sits, but I hesitate before going in. That’s my place with Caleb; even if I’m supposed to make Grayson comfortable, it feels strange being here with another guy.
I glance back at the house, wondering what Dr. O’s telling Caleb right now. Surely he’ll mention our relationship. Caleb knows better than to challenge him.
“You’ve been gone three months,” I say. “Where were you before that?”
“Louisville for a while. But they found me there,” Grayson says quietly, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.
A chill prickles over my arms.
“Who found you?”
“My dad’s guys. I went to get something to eat and when I came back there were two men in my hotel room.”
“Maybe they were just trying to bring you home.”
“They had guns. Why would they need guns to bring me home?”
He’s got a point. Maybe Matthew Sterling hasn’t killed anyone himself, but there’s a reason Dr. O’s sending me in to look for a missing intern. Grayson’s already admitted his father will do anything to keep the secret of Susan’s death from affecting his political career.
I need to tell Dr. O this information—if men with guns are hunting Grayson, they could come here.
He clears his throat. “After that I went to some hick town in Indiana. I sold my car for cash, but I’ve been running low.”
“How’d you get around without the Porsche?”
“I rode the bus.”
I almost laugh.
“What?” He snorts. “I can ride a bus.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, I hired a car for most of it. People piss on busses. Like, right on the seat.”
“There he is. Welcome back, Prince Grayson. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
Grayson’s tone lacks all teasing, but he can’t be serious. The last few months must have added a layer onto his sarcasm. You don’t miss someone who lies to you the way I lied to him.
“I mean, not at first.” He digs his hands into his back pockets. “At first I hated you. But after a while, I don’t know. You did something I couldn’t.”
I glance over at him, but his face is hard to read.
“What’s that?”
“You going to make me spell it out?”
I raise my brows expectantly.
“You got me away from him,” he says quietly, and again, an image of his oil-slick dad flashes through my mind.
The sarcasm is definitely thicker, because right now it almost sounds as if he’s grateful. In all the time I’ve spent thinking of him, my worry has been laced with guilt. I faked who I was to force a secret from him that he didn’t want to share. I offered protection in exchange, and then, when I couldn’t deliver, I sent him away.
I figured he wanted me dead.
And because I have no idea what to do with his forgiveness—if that’s what it is—I say, “That almost sounds like a thank you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I wait.
He glances back at the house, the scowl cutting deep lines between his thick brows.
“I didn’t think anyone would believe me—my dad said no one would buy it was an accident, that’s why I couldn’t tell the cops. But you believe me, right?”
His tone is stripped clean, raw and vulnerable, and I feel like something inside me has cracked open, spilling hot liquid through my chest. I don’t know what to do. This pain is real, but is it deserved? It wouldn’t exist if he hadn’t run someone off the road.
But I’ve done stupid things, too, when I’ve been angry, and worse, I’ve deliberately tricked people knowing they might be hurt.
One moment of recklessness ruined Grayson’s entire life. That doesn’t make him a murderer.
“Yeah,” I say. “I believe you.”
His steel-blue gaze locks steady on mine, and in that moment, I get him, in a way I haven’t before.
All my life, I’ve been defined by my zip code. It didn’t matter if I was smart, or dedicated. It mattered if I was pretty like my mom, because when you’re a poor girl, that’s the only way to get ahead.
No one believed I was more than that until Caleb. Until Dr. O. Until this place became my home. Now I’m never looking back.
But Grayson doesn’t get that luxury. Once word of this accident gets out, he will forever be defined by that night. It won’t matter who he is or what he does in the future because people will only see the boy who killed Susan Griffin.
He’s more than that, just like I’m more than Devon Park, and he deserves a shot at something better, like I got.
“I’m going to help you and Dr. O put your dad in jail,” I say. “Soon, this will all be over.” Matthew Sterling covered up Susan Griffin’s death, and threatened his own son to save his career. If he had something to do with that intern’s disappearance, I intend to find out.
Grayson’s jaw twitches. His gaze roams over my face, as if searching for truth.
Slowly, he nods.
CHAPTER 4
By the time I make it to the girls’ wing, the sky is black, and my fingertips are numb from the bite of the autumn air. It’s Saturday, which means half the student body is out on assignment or in the pit playing video games—even the radio that normally thumps from Paz’s room is silent. As much as I want to find Caleb and my friends and tell them what’s going on, I need a few minutes alone to adjust to my new reality.
Also known as Grayson Sterling.
But Geri’s door is cracked as I pass, and with a jolt I realize we need to talk. Grayson was her mark last year, and when she failed to get the truth from him, he was reassigned.
To me.
Geri and Grayson have a history, and it’s going to look suspicious when he learns that both of us go to the same school. We need to get on the same page before that happens.
I stick my head in her room, but the lights are off, and when I call her name, no one answers.
It’s strange—Geri never leaves her door open. I flick on the lights, but the room is empty. Kind of a mess, too. Geri’s normally meticulous about keeping things orderly, but there are shoes left in the middle of the floor and half an outfit on the bed, as if she left in a hurry.
I wonder if that had something to do with Grayson’s surprise arrival.
A silver spray-painted piggy bank sits on a luxurious dog bed in the corner. She won the famed porcelain pig last quarter in our conning class competition, much to Charlotte’s dismay. I give Petal a wary look, but she’s not talking.
I make my way down the brightly lit hallway to my room, and am inside with the door shut before I register the figure stalking toward me from the bed.
With a yelp, I brace for a fight, but drop my arms as the redhead stops an arm’s length away, fists planted on her hips.
“What took you so long?” she demands.