The creases in his forehead dug in deeper, and he glared at me. I didn’t understand what he was talking about. How would I come between them?
“When I ran into Trevor,” he continued, “we thought we’d mess with you. Scare you off. I’d get what I wanted, you away from Michael and the rest of us, and dickless little Trevor, who was always jealous of his older brother, would get you back on a leash.”
He licked his lips and continued, “Will was easy. He was three sheets to the wind, and even sober, that fucker can’t add two plus two, so once we got Kai’s mask on Trevor, the rest fell into place.”
“But when we got the clearing,” I cut in, “you realized Trevor had a plan you didn’t know about. You wanted to scare me, freak me out, maybe fuck me in a moment of weakness if I let you, so I’d feel too ashamed to ever face Michael again, but you didn’t want to hurt me.” And I took a deep breath, finishing, “And you don’t want to hurt me now.”
He absently picked at something on the table, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, meeting my eyes. “I do want to hurt you. I want to fucking kill you, and then I’m going to kill Trevor.”
“Trevor?”
He nodded. “Oh, he’ll get what’s coming to him. Now that I know he stole the phone, oh yes. You’ll be just because I’m fucking angry, and I’ve got nothing to lose. I already lost everything, because just like a woman does, you fucked everything up. You came between brothers.”
I didn’t come between them. I never made Michael choose, and I never wanted to ruin what they had.
I wanted to be a part of it. I was curious, and I wanted to have some fun, but I never wanted to change them or stop them or…
And then I paused, dropping my eyes as I remembered the gazebo. The way I’d protested when I didn’t agree with what Will was doing. The way I’d walked off when Michael told me to stay. The way I’d looked down on what they were doing.
Maybe Damon was right.
I didn’t regret backing out of that prank. It was shitty and stupid and wrong, but while Michael may have stayed by his friends’ side that night, maybe there would’ve come a time when he didn’t.
Maybe, eventually, after more pranks and more nights of careless decisions they’d make that I’d want no part of…maybe there would eventually be a night when Michael would choose me over them.
I’d done nothing wrong, of course. This wasn’t my fault, and I knew that.
But now, seeing it through Damon’s eyes—him knowing I’d eventually get into Michael’s head and knowing that none of this—none of this—would have happened if I hadn’t gone with them that night, maybe I needed to acknowledge that I was, at least, part of this. Like Will had said…I was already involved.
“We were all hurt by what happened,” I said, locking eyes on him. “I’m not the one to punish.”
He remained still and quiet for moment.
“Maybe,” he finally answered. “Maybe you’re just a victim like the rest of us.”
Something crossed his face, a weariness bubbling under the anger and hate he tried so hard to keep on like a mask. There was something playing behind his eyes, a scene or a memory, but I couldn’t figure it out.
“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” he said in a quiet voice.
But before I got a chance to ask him what he meant, a shadow fell across the floor, and I twisted my head right to see Trevor standing in the doorway.
“Are you two bonding?”
His voice sounded so smooth and light, as if he hadn’t just hit me.
I narrowed my eyes, noticing that he looked thinner.
Annapolis.
Wait, he wasn’t supposed to be here. He couldn’t just leave the Academy whenever he wanted. Had Damon gone to him after the blow-up at Michael’s parents’ house? He had to have.
Trevor had loose ends to clear up, and he had to fear Michael would come after him. He was beating him to the punch.
Damon rose from his chair and left the room, and I tensed, realizing he was leaving me with Trevor. For some reason, I felt in more danger.
“He’d never help you,” Trevor stated, stepping into the room. “He hates women.”
He approached, and I wrapped the slack of the rope around my fist and inched up the bed, away from him. My hand hit the mirror of the headboard, and I stopped, tapping it with my nail.
Glass.
“Did you know that he was twelve when his mother started fucking him.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I turned my eyes on Trevor, horror wracking through me.
What?
“And when he was fifteen,” Trevor continued, “he beat the shit out of her and threatened to kill her if she ever came back. I overheard my father talking to his a few years ago.”
My bottom lip quivered, and I didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but why would he lie?
It would explain why Damon hated women, I guess.
“His father swept it under the rug and never talked about it again. The guys were all he had, and you took that from him.”