“Sorry. I’m prying and it’s not my place.”
“No, it isn’t.”
With a heavy sigh, Celeste climbed off the bed. “I didn’t mean to upset you. But I think Nix showing up tonight must mean something, and I think you’ll regret it one day if you don’t try to find out what.”
“You know. You’re pretty annoying sometimes,” I said.
“I can live with that so long as I know you’re not in here hurting yourself.”
“Celeste, I’m not—”
“Just promise me you won’t let this derail your progress.”
“I won’t, Dr. Rowe.”
She poked her tongue out at me. “Get some sleep. Good night, Harleigh.”
“Night, Celeste.” She slipped out of my room, the sudden silence deafening.
I pulled the pillow onto my lap and buried my fingers in the soft fibers, scratching back and forth.
Back and forth.
Nix was out there somewhere.
Not right outside or anything. But he was out there, on the other side of the reservoir. In The Row.
Seeing him had ripped away every defense I had built the last few months. He was one of my biggest triggers. His betrayal, at least. I’d mourned losing him. Grieved him right alongside losing my mom. But now he was back. Resurrected from my nightmares.
And all that was left was my bleeding heart and weary soul.
“What the hell happened to you?” Max gawked as I padded into the kitchen.
I ignored him, barely awake after a fitful night of broken sleep and haunted dreams. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
Phoenix.
Sometimes he was standing there, arms open, wearing an easy smile. I would run, throwing myself at him and taking the comfort he was offering. Soaking it up. Basking in it. But other times, he was laughing. Dark, wicked laughter that made my stomach clench and shivers run down my spine. That Nix chased me. Hunted me through endless shadowy surroundings until he caught me and choked the life right out of me.
To say I’d woken exhausted was an understatement.
“Hey, weirdo, I’m talking to you,” Max sneered.
I met his eyes and quirked a brow. “Sorry, all I heard was an annoying squeak.”
“Fucking crazy bitch,” he mumbled into his cereal.
Before I could respond, Celeste appeared. “Morning.” She headed straight for the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of juice. “You want?”
“No thanks,” I said, hovering by the coffee maker.
“Rough night?”
“You could say that.”
Max stood abruptly, the stool scraping across The Rowe-Delacorte’s expensive parquet flooring. “I’m outta here.”
“Where are you going this early?” Celeste asked.
“Like I’d tell you.”
“Max, come on. Mom won’t—”
“Mom can eat shit.” He stalked out of the room, taking the air with him.
Celeste let out a heavy sigh. “He’s so angry. I don’t know how to reach him anymore.”
“He’s an entitled brat.” Her eyes flashed to mine, and I shrugged. “What? It’s true. Your mom demands respect and decorum, but it isn’t a substitute for actual parenting. He has too much money and freedom and he thinks no one cares.”
“I care.”
“Yeah, but you’re his sister. It’s not the same.”
“You know, sometimes I think you were sent to us on purpose.”
I bristled, my fingers curling around the edge of the counter.
“I don’t mean…” She let out a soft sigh. “That came out wrong. I just meant that you have a unique perspective because you didn’t grow up here.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
It wasn’t, but whatever.
For as much as Celeste tried to pull me into their lives, their family, the truth was, I would never fit. Because you couldn’t fit somewhere where there had never been space for you.
Michael Rowe had gotten my mother pregnant—a young woman seven years his junior—and made her choose. Her life in Old Darling Hill or the baby he would never recognize as his own.
She chose me.
And in the end, it killed her.
Nix
“Wilder, my office. Now,” Coach boomed down the hallway.
“I told you to stay at home today,” Kye murmured.
“Yeah, well, couldn’t fucking do that.” I gritted my teeth trying to swallow the pain radiating through me. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Don’t think Coach will fall for the old ‘I ran into a door’ story. You look like shit.” Kye reached for me, and I swatted his hand away.
“Fuck off. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” he called after me. “If Coach doesn’t kill you first.”
People gave me a wide berth as I shuffled down the hall. Kye had a point. I probably should have stayed at home, or in Zane’s trailer at least. But his gran would have fussed over me like a child, and for as much as I loved the old woman, she was sick. She didn’t need my sorry ass making her life any harder than it already was. And going back home wasn’t an option.
So here I was, at school, trying my best not to seek out Paul Odell, school’s resident dealer, and beg him to give me some hardcore pills to make the pain go away.
By the time I got to Coach’s office, I was in agony. My ribs were an ugly patchwork of bruises, and my face was a gruesome mess despite Mrs. Washington’s attempts at cleaning me up last night.
“Sit,” Coach Farringdon said the second I entered. He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting his hand on his ankle. “Is the other kid alive? Or do I need to prepare to bail my star player out of jail because he couldn’t keep himself in fucking check?”
“It’s not what you think, Coach.” My leg jostled with nervous energy. “I wasn’t fighting. I mean, I was… at the gym.”
“At the gym? You’re telling me that piece of shit Bryson let you step in the ring after I explicitly—”
“I messed up.”
“Damn right you did, son. Damn fucking right.” He blew out a thin breath. “Look, Nix, let me level with you. You’re my best player. You have what it takes to use your talent and get the fuck out of this place. But you have to want it, son. You have to believe it. After last season, I’d hoped this year would be different. I’d hoped—”
“I saw her.”
The words pierced the air like the crack of gunfire.
“You saw… Harleigh Wren?”
I nodded. “She’s back. At her father’s house, I mean. She started DA yesterday.”
“I see.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers and looked me dead in the eye. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Phoenix. But maybe it’s for the best. She got out of The Row. She made it out and maybe she’s where she belongs now.”
Did he think I didn’t know that?
Did he think I didn’t spend weeks, months even, obsessing over the fact she was gone, swinging between hating her for leaving me and being so fucking relieved that she got out?