I stood there, my hands locked behind my back as Damon and I stood a few feet apart in front of Kincaid’s desk.
Damon coughed and sniffled next to me. “I think she hurt me more than I hurt her,” he said, his breathing labored. “I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. You might just might be my type, girl.”
He laughed, and I ground my teeth together. I hadn’t realized I’d bit his jaw that hard. Or maybe it was from when I hit his nose.
Either way, good.
“You’re expelled,” Kincaid bit out, his tone clipped. “I don’t care what your father threatens me with. We’re going to end up on the goddamn national news because of you!”
“Expel me?” Damon challenged. “The alumni will love that. And perfect timing, too. Your contract is up for review. Wait till they hear you don’t like winning basketball games.”
Something slammed on the desktop in front of us, and I jumped.
I closed my eyes, exasperated. Oh, my God. He was a piece of work. And he was going to win, too. Kincaid wasn’t going to expel him. Not with wealthy, connected alumni caring more about athletics than they did education.
Wait until Damon actually grew up and realized the whole world wasn’t going to bend over for him forever.
It was only a matter of time for me, though. Before he’d be too much to take, and something would have to be done. Dealing with all the anger and attitude in the school for getting him expelled or taking myself and going back to Montreal. I didn’t want to leave. That would be a sure way never to see him again. The ghost. Whoever he was.
But life here would be intolerable if Damon backed me into a corner and I had to fight back. No one would be on my side.
I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “Don’t bother, Mr. Kincaid,” I muttered. “I’m leaving the school.”
“The fuck you are,” Damon growled. And then to Mr. Kincaid, “It was just a disagreement. I’ll leave her alone. You have my word.”
“Your word…” he mocked.
“I don’t lie,” Damon said, anger hardening his voice. “She’ll be fine. I swear. I won’t even look at her for the rest of the year, as long as I’m at this school and under your care. I promise.” He evened out his tone. “The basketball team goes on, she can stay, and we’ll pretend this never happened. Her father doesn’t have to know.” And then to me, “Right?”
I hardened my jaw, standing there and not giving him an ounce of my attention. Was he telling the truth? Could he stay out of my way?
Because I was desperate to stay.
“I will leave her alone,” Damon reiterated again when the dean remained silent.
“Sir,” a woman called behind us.
“Don’t move,” Kincaid told us, and I heard him walk past us and step onto the stones of the main office. The door stayed open, and I could hear voices out there.
And then I felt him next to me, his warm breath just above my ear.
“Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Winter Ashby, because we’re not done,” Damon warned in a low voice that snaked through my ear, taunting me. “Grow up, learn things, and have fun in high school, but don’t change the little girl who loves it ‘in the black’, because I like you there, too. And I will be back for what’s mine when you’re old enough for bigger things.”
I turned my face away, breathing harder.
“And be good,” he told me. “If I hear anyone touched you, I will crack his fucking skull.”
My mouth went dry, my stomach rolling as the voices outside grew closer, and then his heat was gone as he put space between us and Kincaid walked back into the room.
Damn him.
The meeting ended, Kincaid doling out harsh words for Damon but accepting his terms and promising to hold him to it. The dean didn’t trust him or like him, but the politics of Thunder Bay society would win over a man who feared for his job and position. He was an educator second and an employee of every parent in this town first.
Someone from the office got me and guided me to my next class, everyone now back inside after the false alarm, and as I walked out of the main office, turning right as Damon went left, I wondered how long I had and how many notches up he would take his behavior when we met again.
Because it wasn’t over.
He was just waiting.
Winter
Present
I blinked my eyes, waking up, and immediately winced as I rolled off my side and onto my back. Shit. Pain shot through the left side of my neck, and I bent it, trying to stretch it out. I didn’t think I moved all night. My whole body was kinked up. I never slept that deep.
Sitting up, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, rolling my neck and ankles before stretching my toes to a point.
“Ugh,” I groaned.
I was exhausted. I rubbed my eyes, feeling that they were a little swollen and achy.
Then it came back to me. The dance at Michael and Erika’s engagement party last night. Damon and me. Damon trying to taunt me with what he was going to enjoy with my sister.
I’d cried. A lot.
I’d come to bed, locked my door, and sobbed into my pillow, because I couldn’t stop myself, and I didn’t want to be heard.
I hated him. I hated his vile words and his cigarettes and his arrogance and insanity in thinking he wasn’t responsible for anything. I hated how he grabbed and threatened and wouldn’t let me go. He had no right.
And I hated that I’d missed him. I hated that so fucking much.
How I still felt the parts about him I loved when I didn’t know it was him I was with. How his arms around me still felt protective and how his whispers reminded me of when I loved the feel of them all over my neck.
I shook my head. It was an act. It had all been an act. He’d used me.
I stood up and closed my eyes, stretching my arms over my head to wake up my body.
A light rain tapped my window, and I inhaled, smelling it seeping into the house as I tried to clear my head. Coffee first.
A creak sounded above me, and I tipped my head back, training my ears on the sound. Who would be in the attic? No one went up there except servants, and we no longer had any of those. Full time ones, anyway.
Stepping over to my chaise, I picked up the sweater laying on it and pulled it on, rubbing my arms against the chill. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and removed my chair lodged under my doorknob before unlocking my bedroom door and swinging it open. Not that anything would stop Damon from getting into this room if he wanted, but at least it would take more than one kick and give me a warning bell of sorts when I was dead asleep at night.
I stepped into the hallway, the cool wood under my feet creaking as I yawned.
So quiet.
I stood there, hearing the rain outside create a shield of white noise around the house, and somewhere, deep in the house, a breeze whistled through a cracked window or wall. A chickadee sang in the distance, every little sound amplified, because there was nothing else drowning them out. No noise.
No television. No hair dryer. No shower running.
No footsteps or dishes clattering or doors opening and closing.
“Hey, Google,” I called back into my room. “What time is it?”
“The time is seven-oh-three a.m.”
We were early risers. My mom and Arion worked out in the morning, while I got plenty of exercise dancing.
But we’d been to a party last night. Maybe they were sleeping in?
Or maybe not. Something felt off.
Why hadn’t they intervened in my fight with Damon last night? They had to have heard it.
“Mom?” I called out over the railing. She was normally already up and moving around the house when I woke up. “Mom, are you up?”
Nothing.
Grazing the railing, I trailed down the hall and into my mother’s room first, cracking open the door. “Mom?” I said lightly, afraid to startle her out of her sleep.
There was no response.
I inched into the room and found my way to her bed, running my hands across the smooth, cold comforter. The bed was still made. Or had she already made it up after rising?
Walking over to where her vanity sat, I found the lamp and touched the bulb, tapping it and then holding it when I realized it was cold.
The only time this lamp was off was at night or when she wasn’t home.