I started to invite him up, but he cupped my cheeks gently, leaned down, pressed his lips to mine, and kissed me so softly I was acutely reminded of the inherent tenderness inside of Jase. “Are we okay?” he asked, and I felt the ground drop out from under my feet.
The idea of us not being good before we even had a chance to do something with this relationship was a cold smack in the face. The words burst from me, surprising me. “It’s not just that it reminded me of what Cam did. It reminded me of him—of everything I felt while I was with him and everything I felt afterward.”
Jase closed his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
He didn’t look like he believed me. “You sure?”
I nodded because I was unable to speak. His fingers slipped away, and he jerked his chin toward the entrance.
“I’ll wait until you get inside.”
Emotion clogged my throat. “Good night, Jase.”
“Night,” he murmured.
It was when I was in the brightly lit lobby that I realized I’d left my cupcake and my heart out there. I twisted at the waist, burning to hobble outside and to just forget about everything, but like Jase had promised, he’d waited until I made it inside.
The Jeep was gone.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I headed to the elevator. Regret burned like food that didn’t set right in the stomach, but him leaving was probably a good thing. I needed to sort my head out.
I still didn’t know what to think or how to feel, but how could I stay mad? And should I? All I wanted to do was sleep. Tomorrow I would know what to say to him.
When I flipped on the light, it flickered once and then went out, pitching the room back into darkness.
“Fudge pucker,” I muttered as I hobbled around the coffee table, knocking the edges of the crutches into it. I found the little lamp and flipped it on. The energy-saving bulb only cast enough light that I wouldn’t break my neck getting around the room. I propped my crutches in the corner and turned.
I groaned. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
A pink scarf dangled from the cracked open door. Deb had broken up with the jerk! And they were in there screwing? Anger whirled through me, spitting fire into my blood. I was going to beat both of them with my crutches. And that would be great, because then I couldn’t be mad at Jase for hitting Erik. At least knocking them upside their heads would solve one of my problems.
I limped toward the door. Pain flared up my leg as I felt my knee start to slide in the brace, but I stormed forward and pushed the door open. The room was pitch-black and surprisingly quiet. No grunts or moans or bedsprings squeaking as someone tried to cover themselves.
Tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose. “Debbie?” My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness as I reached for the light switch. “Are you . . . ?”
The light didn’t turn on.
I tried it again, hearing the switch flick, but there was nothing . . . nothing but a strange creaking sound. Almost like a loose floorboard.
A chill snaked down my spine as I swallowed hard. “Deb?”
There was no response. Just the creak . . . creak . . . creak.
Instinct screamed for me to turn and run away. Fear sunk its icy claws deep inside me as I stepped farther into the room, blinking my eyes. I tried calling her name out again, but no words formed. They were frozen inside me.
The darkness started to loosen its grip on the room. Shadows took on deeper forms, more solid, more substance—
I bounced into something, something that shouldn’t be there in the middle of the room, shouldn’t be swaying back and forth, making that creaking sound.
Air hitched in my throat as I lifted my head, my sight slowly returning to me.
Two bare legs—pale, bare legs.
A dark sleep shirt.
Two arms hanging limply at the sides.
The air punched out of my lungs as realization set in, but—oh God—I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t. There was no way. A cry worked its way up.
It wasn’t her.
It wasn’t her brown hair shielding half of her face. It wasn’t her mouth gaping open. It wasn’t Debbie hanging from the light fixture in our dorm room. It couldn’t be her.
A terrible sound filled the suite, hurting my ears. The sound didn’t stop, but kept coming and coming. There were voices in the background, shouts of alarm, hands gripped my shoulders as my legs went out from underneath me, but the screams were louder than everything.
It was me screaming, I realized dumbly. I couldn’t stop. I’d never stop.
Debbie had hung herself.
Twenty
Things happened in a continuous blur that I was detached from. Eventually I stopped screaming, only because my voice gave out. The hands that had tried to stop me from falling belonged to the most unlikely person ever. Our suitemate.