Jordan snickers.
“—and you ruined everything! I hate you.” Her desperate, furious gaze swings back to me. “And I hate you, too, Reed Royal. I hope you rot in jail for the rest of your stupid life!”
Abby finishes in a breathless rush.
Silence has fallen over the room. Every pair of eyes is glued to my unhinged ex-girlfriend. When she realizes it, she releases a horrified gasp and slaps a hand over her mouth.
Then she runs right out the door, her pink fairy princess dress flapping behind her.
“Well.” Jordan sounds amused. “I always knew she wasn’t the meek little thing she pretended to be.”
Ella and I don’t respond. I stare at the doorway Abby just barreled through, a weird lump of pity forming in my throat.
“Should we go after her?” Ella finally asks, but she doesn’t sound like she wants to.
“No,” Jordan answers for me, her tone haughty and her head held high. She possessively clutches my arm and yanks me away from Ella. “Come on, Reed. I want to dance. It’ll be good practice for when we’re crowned king and queen.”
I’m still too stunned by Abby’s outburst to protest, so I just led Jordan lead me away.
32
Reed
“So. That was…intense,” Ella murmurs when we walk into my bedroom a couple of hours later.
I stare at her. Intense? Talk about an understatement.
This entire night was a disaster, starting with the photos Jordan and her parents made me pose for and ending with Abby falling apart in front of a room full of people. I almost fell over in relief when Jordan didn’t press me about taking her to the after party. I guess the stupid Snowflake Queen tiara was enough to satisfy her, and luckily I didn’t even have to participate in the nausea-inducing king and queen waltz, because Wade beat me out for the king title. The only highlight of the night was watching Wade grope Jordan’s ass during their big dance, while she kept hissing for him to stop.
Ella and I were able to escape by ten o’clock, and since Steve’s not picking her up until eleven, we have an entire hour of alone time. But we’re both a little shell-shocked as we sit side by side on the edge of my bed.
“I feel really fucking bad for her,” I admit.
“Abby?”
I nod.
“Well, you shouldn’t,” Ella says bluntly. “I hate to say this, but I think Abby might be a tad delusional.”
I sigh. “A tad?”
“Okay, a lot delusional.” Ella squeezes my hand. “But it’s not your fault. You broke up with her. You haven’t led her on since. She’s the one who isn’t able to move on.”
“I know.” But I still can’t erase the image of Abby’s grief-stricken eyes from my mind.
I’ve run through these last few years with little regard for anyone but myself. I was proud of being an unfeeling asshole. Is this karma? Is me going to prison for five years punishment for the guys I’ve beaten, the girls I’ve hurt?
I’ve tried to act like nothing’s wrong. I’ve gone to classes, played football, went to Winter Formal. I’ve acted as if every day is an ordinary day in the life of a high school senior. But I can’t pretend anymore that everything is okay. Abby’s not okay. Brooke’s murder is not okay. My life isn’t okay.
Every night, I lie awake staring at the ceiling, wondering how I’ll survive inside a prison cell. It’s the wait that’s the hardest.
“Reed? What’s wrong?”
I take a breath as I meet Ella’s worried eyes. No amount of sweet words is going to take the sting away, so I speak abruptly, like pulling off a Band-Aid. “I’m going to sign the plea deal early.”
She whips around so fast, she loses her balance. I reach out and steady her, but she jerks out of my grip and shoots to her feet.
“What’d you say?”
“I’m going to sign it early. Agree to start serving the sentence starting next week instead of the first of January.” I swallow. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“What the hell, Reed?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “The sooner I go in, the sooner I’m out.”
“This is bullshit. We can solve this. Dinah paid off Ruby Myers, so that means there’s new evidence—”
“There’s no new evidence,” I interrupt.
It kills me that she’s holding on to this dream that something’s going to magically appear to get me off. Her inability to accept me going to prison or to understand why I want this sentence over with tells me all I need to know.
I can’t keep asking her to wait for me for five years. I’m a selfish jerk for even entertaining that idea. She’ll miss out on everything. What kind of senior year will she have with everyone believing her boyfriend is a murderer? What about college? I may be an asshole, but I’m not this big of one. Not to her, at least.
I brick up my heart, the useless, shitty thing, and stare down at my feet because I can’t look into her pale, beautiful face while I say the rest of the words that are galloping around my head.