“Can you ask her instead?”
I swallow. “She’s hurting right now.” I bite my lip and hold my breath. “We went to a party at the barn last night, and someone drugged us. I only had half a beer, so I was out of it for a bit and woke up with a killer hangover. But Ashton’s pretty sick.”
“What?!” Grant exclaims, jumping up to stand. “Did they hurt you? Or Ashton?”
I widen my eyes at the visible distress pulsing through him. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes frantic. I never thought Grant could ever get worked up; he’s always so composed. But he looks like he could potentially hurt someone right now.
“We’re okay,” I assure him, holding out my hand to coax him back to me. He releases a quick breath to fight for calm before taking my hand and sitting beside me again. “I was actually hoping you could check on a guy who’s attending Printz-Lee for the summer. He was hanging out with us and was drugged too. His name’s Sawyer. Not sure of his last name.”
“Yeah, I can check.” Grant melts back against the swing. “Any idea who did it?”
“I … don’t know,” I answer, not sure how to mention the guy in the woods. Or my suspicions of Vic.
He pulls me into a hug, and I release the tension that’s been building since I started recounting the details. “I’m glad you’re okay. I … don’t … I can’t even think about what I’d do if something happened to you.”
My chest fills with heat, and I hold him tighter. I can’t assure him that I’ll be okay, that nothing will happen to me. Not with Vic still out there.
“Um … how did you get on campus?” I ask him, realizing it’s Saturday and Grant is never here on the weekends.
Grant laughs. “Uh, Lance got me in. Said that I was helping him with a paper. Speaking of, are you off phone and tutoring restrictions yet?”
I sit up. “Oh crap.” I think back to where I last saw my phone, hoping no one has done a security check. “I have to find my phone. I’m not supposed to be out here.” I stand, and Grant follows. “I gotta go.” I lean up and wait for Grant to meet me in the middle, kissing him intensely before breaking apart and running off. “I’ll call you tomorrow if I can!” I yell as I disappear through the hedges.
I find my phone in the crevice of the couch in the Quiet Room. It doesn’t look like anyone has checked on me.
I jump and almost drop it when it begins vibrating. With a hand over my frantically beating heart, I place a thumb on the screen, as required, and then slump onto the couch.
A message appears on the screen: Your restrictions have been lifted. However, you are still confined to campus for two more weeks.
Relief washes over me. I never took my room confinement into consideration when I visited Ashton or met with Brendan this morning. Thankfully, it doesn’t matter.
The peace I’m experiencing goes beyond being allowed to leave my room.
I don’t know how or if Grant is coping with everything I dumped on him, but I feel … lighter. The weight of the secrets isn’t pressing on me like before. I can breathe easier. Whenever I’ve confided in someone in the past, I’ve been overcome with regret or panic that I screwed up pretty much as soon as I’ve said it. Waiting to be burned. And I usually am.
But this isn’t the same.
Confessing … trusting Grant feels good. Like I entrusted him with a piece of my vulnerability, believing he’ll keep it safe. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what love is. But I can’t let myself contemplate it too much because then I will start freaking out.
Instead, I run up the stairs and return to Ashton’s room. When I knock, Sophia answers, taking me by surprise.
“Uh, hi,” I say.
She nods imperceptibly and shifts her focus to avoid looking at me when she walks past, her mouth drawn.
I watch her leave before stepping inside. What is she doing here?
Ashton is awake, propped up on her couch with a white fur blanket tucked around her. She looks pale, making the smeared mascara around her blue eyes that much more devastating. She smiles weakly when I enter.
“How are you?” she asks in a rasp.
“Woke up with a headache and felt out of it for a while, but I’m okay. I only had a little to drink last night.” I sit at her feet, pulling them onto my lap. She winces. “Sorry. Where are you hurt?”
“Everywhere.” She shifts uncomfortably. “But I’m afraid to look.”
I grimace. “Do you know how you ended up on the cliff?”
She shakes her head, staring down at the blanket. “I don’t remember anything.” She plucks at the fur strands, unwilling to look at me. “You don’t think Sawyer did this, do you?”
“No,” I answer automatically. Her eyes connect with mine in bewilderment. “He was as bad as you. Grant’s checking on him. I don’t know who did this. I was kind of hoping you did. Do you remember the guy in the woods?”
Her eyes glisten with tears before they shift down again. She shakes her head. “I hate not remembering. Not knowing.” Her hand wraps around the fabric and squeezes in visible anger. “I hate whoever did this.” A tear drops.
“Me too,” I say quietly, trying to soothe her. “Can I get you anything?”
“No,” she whispers, sinking down further like she’s trying to disappear. “I think I’m going to sleep some more.”
“Want me to stay?”
She shakes her head. “I need to be alone right now.”
I stand and walk to the door, hesitating before opening it. “It’s okay to be angry, Ashton. I am. I’m so angry this happened. But … I’m also glad he didn’t hurt you.”
She doesn’t respond, instead rolls over and dissolves into the blanket. I hear her say just as I’m closing the door behind me, “This time.”
I wanted that love for my own. It consumed me. I searched, but found only empty arms.
Ashton stays in her room the next day too. She doesn’t answer when I knock. I try texting and calling—after asking Dr. Kendall to approve Ashton as one of my contacts. Queen Warden was at some spa retreat and probably would’ve approved anyone to get me off the phone with her. I should’ve taken advantage, but my priority was Ashton.
“Have you seen Ashton today?” I ask Sophia when I sit down next to her at dinner. I would ask Brendan, but I can’t stand to look at him right now, forget about talk to him. And I think he knows it because he’s been MIA too.
“No,” Sophia says, shifting her mashed potatoes around on her plate.
“Why were you in her room yesterday?”
She looks up. Her Bambi grey eyes somber. “I was told to check to make sure she was really sick when she called out of work.”
“Oh.” I focus on my food, not knowing what to add now that I know she was basically asked to snitch on Ashton.
“It’s not like that,” she defends, reading my thoughts. “They trust me here. And I don’t want to ruin that. It makes things easier for me. I didn’t tell them that you guys snuck out. I wouldn’t do that.”
“You knew?” I ask in surprise.