Winter (Four Seasons #1) (21 page)

“’
Kay.”

As his partner
opens the cruiser door, Casey leans forward and shouts through the
grill, setting my teeth on edge. “You’re welcome to him, Breslin.
He’s as fucked up as you are, anyway. Just ask him. Ask him just
how fucked up he is!” Her voice rises into hysteria at the end, and
the other officer cuts her off by slamming his door
closed.

“
Sorry. I’m so
sorry,” Luke mutters, pulling me against his chest. For one brief
moment, everything is right with the world. His smell floods my
senses and I feel safe. Protected. He lets go all too quickly and
hurries to the cruiser, turning back to look at me as he folds
himself to get into the passenger seat. His eyes are locked with
mine, blazing, until the car swerves out onto the road and burns
away.

“
Come on,
chica.” Morgan catches hold of my hand and pulls me towards the now
abandoned Jeep. She starts muttering about how there’s going to be
blood on her leather upholstery but I’m not really listening. I’m
retreating inside myself, burying myself, hiding myself. I let my
forehead press against the cold glass of the window as Morgan
starts the engine and puts it into gear. I only snap my head up
when she inhales sharply. I don’t know what I was expecting: a
crowd of people blocking our escape; a huge billboard with my name
and face plastered all over it; the Dean, waiting to tell me not to
bother coming back to college. Instead, it’s Noah running up
125
^th
towards us.

“
Do you want
me to stop?” Morgan asks.

I survey the
panicked look on his face, the fact that he’s actually come outside
without his precious beanie. His eyes meet mine for a second, the
same way Luke’s did, and I remember the only thing he’d had to say
to me after he’d seen that poster:
Looks
like we have ourselves a lying little psychopath! :)
I knew you weren’t an Avery. Maybe I should call
you Murder Spawn instead?

I turn and
slump so that my forehead presses against the glass once more.
Morgan takes that as my answer and keeps on driving.

Seventeen

Last
Words

BY SOME
miracle my nose isn’t broken, after all. Casey’s elbow just made it
bleed like hell and bruised me up pretty badly, but the bone is in
tact and I’m not going to end up looking like a boxer. Morgan
drives me across the city from the hospital. I silently take in the
steam rising from the sidewalks and the thousands of yellow cabs,
the people buried inside their layers, the food vendors, the
buskers, the city an endless machine, feeling nothing. My phone
doesn’t stop ringing for a full hour after Morgan drops me off at
Luke’s. She offered to take it with her when she left me, after I’d
insisted I wanted to be alone, but I’d declined. I’d planned on
calling Brandon as soon as I was by myself but then Noah had
started texting and I was too numb to do anything but stare at the
screen.

Noah: Avery,
please pick up. I’m so sorry. I’m not kidding, I thought it was all
a joke! I couldn’t answer when you called. I was in the middle of a
lecture. Seriously, believe me, I wouldn’t have sent that text if
I’d known it was for real!

A joke. He’d
thought girls starting a hate campaign against me on campus was a
joke. And the posters calling me that name? On what planet was any
of that funny? I slip the phone down the side of Luke’s leather
sofa and go rifling for the blankets he used to make up a bed for
himself the last few times I stayed here. They’re folded neatly in
a cupboard at the end of the hallway opposite his bedroom door,
along with stacks of white towels and fresh bedding. I’ve never
seen a cupboard so organized. I drag the blankets back to the sofa
and curl up, determined to get my crying done before Luke comes
home so I won’t embarrass myself any further. No tears come,
though. I’m still dry-eyed and hollow when the door knocks, and I
freeze, wondering if I’m supposed to answer it. Then I remember
Luke gave me his keys and won’t be able to let himself in. I go and
open the door, and there he is back in his jeans and a leather
jacket looking as exhausted as I feel.

“
Hey,” he
says, cupping his hand over the back of his neck. I give him a
tight smile and go back to the sofa. He comes and sits next to me,
and we remain there in silence for a drawn out moment. He’s brought
the smell of winter with him, fresh and bright, and I just sit
there and breathe it in. Eventually he takes a deep breath and
says, “Casey and Maggie were given warnings and released. If you
want to get a retraining order against them, I can help you with
that.”

“
Are they
going to come back to campus?”

He shakes his
head. “I don’t think so. Casey’s mom came to get her and reamed her
out in front of everyone. That’s just about the most embarrassing
thing that could ever happen to her. Plus there’s the fact that her
mom threatened to cut her off if she disgraced herself
again.”

“
And what
about Maggie?”

Luke lets out
a sigh and slumps back against the sofa, stacking his hands on his
stomach. “I don’t think she’ll come back. She’s studying in
Florida. She came all the way up here to…” He pauses and puffs out
his checks. “I have no idea why she came up here. I have a sneaking
suspicion she might be slightly unbalanced.”

“
Your father
being murdered will have that effect,” I mumble, pulling the
blankets up over me. Luke turns his head to look at me,
frowning.

“
Don’t defend
her actions. You don’t deserve this.” I look away and study my
fingernails. Luke reaches over and hooks a finger under my chin. He
lifts it so that our eyes meet again. “Listen to me, you’ve done
nothing wrong. We’re going to prove your dad didn’t either, and
then all this is going to go away.”

The absolute
belief on his face is what finally tips me over the edge. I clench
my jaw, furious at the tears that are welling in my eyes. “We might
be able to prove he didn’t kill those girls, Luke, but he’s still
going to have killed Maggie’s dad. That’s not going to
change.”

“
I don’t think
he did,” Luke breathes.

“
What?” I
tense, my eyes roving from his, rimmed with those long, dark
lashes, to his high cheekbones and full lips. His facial features
are blank, his shoulders drawn up an inch like he’s holding his
breath.

“
I don’t think
he killed
anyone,
”
he whispers. My heart is thudding when he says, “I’ve never
believed he did. This whole time I’ve always believed he was
innocent.”

“
That’s
ridiculous,” I snap. I recoil so he’s no longer touching me. Luke
reacts and pulls back, too, flinching. I twist in my seat to face
him and tuck my knees up under my chin, wanting to put a barrier
between us. “Why would you say that?”

“
Because it’s
true. There are things you don’t know about me. Things…” He trails
off and swallows hard, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his
knees. “That doesn’t matter, though. I think your dad took the fall
for something he didn’t do.”

“
The room was
locked from the inside, Luke. You told me that yourself five years
ago. No one could have gotten in or out. Those men were bound, and
my dad had the gun that killed them in his hand. Hell, it was the
gun he killed himself with, too!” My voice cracks and my throat
throbs, dangerously close to closing up. Why is he doing this? Why
would he tempt me with the hope that my dad is innocent? It’s cruel
and unbearable, especially after everything that has happened
today. I bury my face into my knees and focus on my
breathing.

“
Avery.
Avery…” Luke takes hold of one of my hands and I try to pull it
back, but he grips on tighter. “I’m not letting you go,” he says.
“I’m not trying to hurt you. This is just what I believe. There’s
something you weren’t told before. There were certain things the
police kept back from the press.” I look up to find him biting his
lip. “Max wasn’t dead when we found him, Avery. He was dying but…he
was still conscious.”

Luke slides
across the sofa and grabs hold of the tops of my arms at the same
time I lose it, like he knows exactly how I will react. I kick out
at him, trying to push him away, but he’s too close for me to get
any leverage. A broken wail echoes around the room—mine—and I start
hyperventilating.

“
Calm down,”
he growls, drawing me to him so that my face is pressed into his
chest. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I shove against him, struggling
to breathe through my sobbing, but he’s holding me too tight. I try
again and again but it’s useless; he has me. Without thinking I let
my body take control and I sink my teeth into his chest, biting
down hard. Luke grunts and lets go, and suddenly he’s standing up,
clenching his fists.

He looks
furious. I edge into the corner of the sofa and glare at him,
choking on my tears. Luke sinks into a crouch in front of me and
laces his hands behind his head, his anger turning to pain, written
into the planes of his face. “For fuck’s sake, let me hold you,” he
grinds out.

“
You should
have told me! You shouldn’t have kept that from me!”

“
I know. I’m
sorry, I didn’t have any choice. Please…”

I clench my
eyes shut and put my hands over my ears. “No. No, you said he died
quickly.”

I sense his
movement again, and Luke’s hands take hold of my wrists, gently
this time, trying to get me to lower them. I kick out and strike
him square in the chest, but he just grunts and leans closer. “I’m
not letting you go,” he repeats. He manages to pull my hands down
and climbs up onto the sofa again, kneeling over me. I open my eyes
and try to fill them with as much anger and hatred as I can. He
doesn’t back off; he grabs hold of my hips and yanks me towards him
so that I slide onto my back, and then he straddles me and pins my
wrists above my head.

“
You can be
mad at me, Iris. You can hate me and that’s fine. I should have
told you. I wanted to. Every time I asked you to meet me back in
Break, it was because I told myself you needed to know. But you
were still so broken, and I didn’t want to hurt you any more.” He
clenches his jaw and stares down at me, every single angle of him a
study in determination. I buck and writhe, trying to unseat
him.

“
Get the fuck
off me, Luke,” I hiss.

“
No. Not until
you hear this. Your dad didn’t die quick, okay? He died slow and I
held his hand while he went. His throat was torn to shreds. He
could barely speak but he did, okay? He did speak. Look at me,
Iris. Look at me!” I turn away, resolved on not listening. Not
strong enough to hear what he’s saying. He gathers my wrists
together and holds them in one of his hands, sliding the other palm
underneath my cheek so I can’t look away. “He said two things
before he died. He said, ‘
the
trade
’. Do you know what he meant by that?
Does that mean anything to you?”

I struggle
against him but it’s no use. He is far stronger than me, and I
don’t have a hope in hell of getting out from underneath him while
he’s sitting on top of me. “No,” I growl. “Now get off.”

“
Breathe,
Beautiful. Come on, breathe.”

“
Don’t you
fucking call me that!” I scream.

He ignores me.
“Breathe.” He focuses his steady gaze on me and the power behind it
is devastating. He blows out a sharp breath of his own. “Think
about it. Just stop fighting and
think
about it
for two seconds. Does ‘the trade’
mean anything to you?”

My cries hitch
in my throat and I still a little.

“
That’s it.
Just breathe.
Think.
”

I can barely
see past the fact that he’s holding me down and I need to be free,
but Luke’s words finally penetrate my panic. I inhale, long and
deep, and try to make my muscles go limp. I am trembling with
adrenalin and grief when I say, “No. It doesn’t mean
anything.”

Luke’s head
slumps forward, his disappointment evident. “I’m going to let you
up, okay? Don’t freak out.” His hand loosens around my wrists and
he carefully lets go, sitting back on his heels. He’s still
straddling me but he leans back to give me some space. I flex my
hands and then prop myself up on my elbows, trying to calm my
frantic heartbeat.

“
You said
there was something else. That he spoke twice,” I say, refusing to
look at him, instead focusing on his scuffed metal belt buckle at
my eye level.

“
He did.” Luke
shifts back when he realizes I’m not going to try kicking him
again. He swings his leg over me and sinks back onto the sofa,
sighing raggedly. “It doesn’t make any sense, though. He was barely
alive by that point. I’ve played it over a thousand times in my
head, trying to figure out if I heard him wrong.”

“
Just tell
me,” I whisper, bracing myself.

He bows his
head into his chest and purses his lips. I don’t fight him when he
takes my hand again. He stares down at it in his lap, tracing small
circles across the tender skin where he restrained me, apologizing
with his fingertips. A ball of pent up anticipation threatens to
explode in my chest when he turns those deep brown eyes on me and
says it.