The Secrets We Carry Page 8

  Sure enough, my speculation was correct. The car is registered to Wynter Porterrsen .

  “Why is Wynter hanging out in front of the house of the girl she suspected was going to get hurt tonight?” I mutter to myself as I steer out onto the desolate street .

  I don’t have the answer, but I’m going to find out .

  Nine

  Wynter

  W hen I asked Everette to help me, I hit a level of desperation I wasn’t aware existed. I kept thinking about Maci being in the club somewhere with Travis. How she may have had a drink in her hand. A drink laced with a drug. How she could’ve been stumbling around, dizzy and disoriented, and he would’ve eventually guided her someplace secluded where no one would hear her scream, just like he did to me .

  “Scream. I dare you,” he whispered in my ear. “No one will hear you .”

  As the scenario played out in my head on repeat, I panicked and asked for Everette’s help. I didn’t expect him to agree, let alone without pressing me for more details. I was shocked. Shaken. And for the first time in months, relieved .

  I wish I could say I trusted him enough after that to not have to double-check on Maci and make sure she arrived home okay. But trust isn’t something I’m able to feel at this moment in my life, especially with a guy I met only this morning .

  Of course, when the club evacuated, I decided maybe Everette isn’t a terrible guy. But needing to be absolutely certain Maci was okay, I followed her home anyway. When she stumbled into her house, relief washed over me again, along with gratitude for Everette’s help .

  He made good on his promise. He can’t be that bad .

  Doesn’t mean I full-on trust him, though .

  Trust. A small, simple word, yet so complicated. I have no desire to let that complicate my life .

  After I leave Maci’s, I drive back to my place, lock up the doors, and take a few hits as I check my messages. While I’ve been out today, my phone has buzzed at least a dozen times. I’ve been too caught up in revenge to even check my messages. Once I see who has been texting me, I feel awful .

  Beck: Hey, just checking in on you. You seemed upset earlier today and I wanted to make sure you were okay .

  Beck: Haven’t heard back from you. Text me .

  Willow: Hey, want to hang out this weekend? We can even go shopping if you want .

  Man, she must be really worried about me to offer to go shopping .

  Luna: Is your phone off or something? Everyone’s been trying to get ahold of you .

  Beck: I’m really starting to get worried. Everyone is. Even Everette messaged me to check on you. I didn’t even know you two knew each other. He’s a nice guy, though .

  Everette texted Beck about me? Uncertainty sweeps through me. Why ? When ?

  Beck: Come on, Wynter. Please just text us back. If you don’t, we’re going to have Ari track your phone .

  Crap, the timestamp is from a few hours ago. If Ari did track my phone, which he easily could, my friends might have very well figured out where I was tonight .

  I crinkle my nose. If they did find out, they’re going to overwhelm me with questions as to why I was hanging out at a club I’ve mocked on more than one occasion. Still, I don’t regret going. Maci made it home okay. Travis didn’t hurt her. At least tonight. But she’s already planning on going out with him on Friday, which leaves me with only a couple days to figure out how to prove to her, without outing myself, that Travis is a monster .

  Shucking off my jacket and kicking off my shoes, I flop down in bed and open the photo of the list. The images are slightly blurry, but the names are visible enough. Most I don’t recognize, but one in particular jumps out at me .

  “Oh, my God. I feel like I’m going to be sick.” Tears sting my eyes as I clutch the list in my hand. “What’s going on with this? Did the same thing happen to these girls as what happened to me and they banned us all from that club ?”

  That possibility makes my stomach twist into painful knots, especially for the girl whose name I recognize .

  As vomit lurches in the back of my throat, I roll out of bed, bolting toward the bathroom to puke my guts out. Since I haven’t eaten anything since I emptied the contents of my stomach at the club, I end up dry heaving until my stomach muscles ache. At the rate I’m going, I may not be able to keep a meal down ever again .

  Once my stomach has given up on trying to puke, I wash my face then change into my pajamas, glad to be out of those stupid club clothes .

  As I debate on whether to call up the girls on the list or not, I move to hop into bed when a loud bang echoes through the air. I tense, unsure if the noise came from inside my house or out in the yard .

  Crash !

  Fear pulsates through my body as I lock my bedroom door, scoop up my phone, and peer out the window. Darkness blankets the backyard, light flowing in from the neighbor’s back porch and the moon. My eyes rove across the pool and the pool house, and then along the trees that line the fence .

  Crash !

  I practically jump out of my skin as a trash can tips over and a creature about the size of a cat darts across my backyard .

  A slow exhale eases from my lips. “It’s just a cat. Chill the hell out .”

  I stare at the backyard for a moment or two longer before turning to go to bed. Then a loud noise bangs again from outside, and my body begins to quiver .

  Tremulous breaths tear from my lips as I collapse to the floor and hug my knees to my chest .

  Don’t cry, Wynter. Do not cry. Don’t be afraid. I’m sure it’s nothing .

  I rock back and forth, breathing in and out until the tears threatening to pour out of my eyes dry away .

  I hate this .

  Hate that I’m so terrified .

  Hate that I’ve been scared to silence .

  “Don’t utter a word .”

  Sucking in several breaths, I pick up my phone and send all my friends a mass text so at least they won’t worry .

  Me: Hey guys! I’m okay. I promise. Lost my phone today and had to buy a new one. Not sure how I lost it. Honestly, I think someone might have jacked it. Thanks for checking up on me, though. Love you guys !

  There. That way, if Ari tracks my phone to the club, I can simply say it wasn’t me who was there .

  Turning down the volume on my phone, I lie down and pull the blankets over me. Even after lying in bed for over an hour, watching the clock tick, my eyelids refuse to slip shut. I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable for at least another hour before giving up and turning on the television. My attention span for nighttime TV is about a zero, though, and my thoughts continually drift to that list of names .

  Revenge .

  Revenge .

  Revenge .

  The word burns through my veins, like a venomous poison .

  “I can’t let this go,” I whisper. “I have to do … something, other than walk around afraid all the time .”

  Perhaps if I can attain proof that Travis and his buddies attacked me that night, along with other women, then maybe that’ll be enough to go to the police. If the girls on that list are victims, too, perhaps we can all band together. But asking them about it means probably answering questions about my own attack, especially with the girl whose name I recognize. Am I ready to do that? To utter the words to someone else besides my parents ?

  Don’t speak .

  Don’t think .

  Don’t breathe .

  Just break .

  The longer the mantra runs through my head, the more worked up I get. Rage burns in my veins, along with my scars, and through my chest .

  Revenge .

  “Fuck all of you,” I snap to my empty room. “I’m not going to break. I’m going to breathe. I’m going to think. I’m going to speak, although I’m going to be more careful about it. Threaten to ruin my life if you want to. It’s not a great life anymore anyway.” I stare up at the ceiling, my mind racing like a hot-wired car. “Threaten me all you want, but I’m going to make
you guys pay .”

  Ten

  Wynter

  I wake up the next morning feeling exhausted. At most, I got about three hours of sleep because that night haunted my dreams. Only, instead of my attackers assaulting me, I end up beating them up. Punching, kicking, tearing them apart, my anger so scorching I thought I was going to melt .

  When my eyes open, my skin is drenched in sweat, my heart is racing at an alarming rate, and my right hand feels as though it was slammed through a door .

  Sitting up, I inspect my hand over and wince. Shit, I forgot to ice it last night after I punched Everette in the face. The knuckles are swollen and a couple of yellowish spots dot my skin, the impending bruises will probably get worse the further the day goes along. Lovely .

  I really need to learn the proper way to punch. Maybe I’ll take a few self-defense classes. Not really my thing, or at least the old Wynter’s thing anyway. The new Wynter understands the importance of being able to defend herself, though .

  “Defense class, for sure,” I say, grabbing my bowl from my nightstand .

  After sucking in a few breaths of numbing smoke, I grab a notebook and pen from my nightstand. Then I make a list of everything I need to do .

  1. Enroll in self-defense classes .

  2. Order a can of pepper spray .

  3. Get the contact info for the girls on the list .

  As I jot down number three, my hand shakes, knowing I already have the contact info for one of them, her info saved in my phone .

  I write two more things to do :

  4. Figure out something that will get my friends off my back .

  5. Get revenge on the motherfuckers who hurt you .

  The last one is more for motivation purposes than anything else .

  Tossing the notebook into the top drawer of my nightstand, I pick up my phone and sigh at the sight of the four missed messages, all from each of my friends .

  Deciding to text them later, I quickly order a can of pepper spray online with express shipping, eliminating number two on the list .

  Next, I search for self-defense classes nearby and a few pop up. Unsure which place is better, I enroll in the earliest class I can find. Then I grab a pair of torn jeans and a grey T-shirt and head to take a shower .

  As I scrub the scent of last night off me, my mind drifts to Everette. He never agreed to call me after we parted ways last night. He doesn’t even have my number. I wonder if maybe he’ll try to track me down and let me know that Maci made it home okay. If he does, I’ll have to pretend the news is new to me. I will thank him, though .

  Thank him for saving Maci like no one saved me .

  * * *

  A bout a half an hour later, I’m racing across campus, late for yet another class. I’ve really been on a roll with not being punctual lately. Half the damn time, I’m not even aware of the time until it’s too late, as if I’m walking around in a zombie state. Sometimes that’s exactly how I feel. Like a numb, dead, inside and out, zombie .

  “Wynter!” a deep male voice shouts from across the campus yard .

  I accelerate my pace, scared out of my damn mind that Travis is the person shouting my name .

  Doesn’t sound like Travis, though .

  “Wynter!” The voice grows louder .

  I flick a glance over my shoulder and find Everette jogging toward me. His light brown hair is a ruffled mess, but in a sexy way, and he’s back to his normal attire, sporting a T-shirt, dark jeans, and clunky boots .

  I almost don’t stop. Almost run into the building. But considering what he did for me last night—and Maci—I ditch being a bitch for a few minutes and slow to a stop. I then turn and wait for him in the shade of the trees, the sunlight flickering through the branches as I watch him jog the rest of the short distance toward me .

  “Hey,” he says when he reaches me, a bit out of breath. “For a moment, I thought you weren’t going to stop .”

  “Sorry.” I adjust the strap of my bag, sliding it higher onto my shoulder. “I’m late for class .”

  “Oh, sorry, I’ll make this quick, then.” His gaze darts from left to right at the groups of other students hanging out on the grass and wandering toward the main entrance of the university, then he steps closer and lowers his voice. “I just wanted to let you know Maci got home safely .”

  “Really?” I pretend to be surprised. “That’s awesome. Thank you so much for making sure she did.” I chew on my bottom lip, choosing my next words carefully. “How did you do it? I mean, get her to leave the club and go home ?”

  “Paid her five hundred bucks .”

  Liar. Then why did the entire club get evacuated ?

  Why lie? And how does he lie so well ?

  “Really? ” My brow raises. “Wait, you didn’t, like, pay her to go home with you, did you ?”

  He chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the corners, the roughness he usually carries with him softening. “No, I didn’t. And I actually didn’t pay her five hundred dollars.” He peers around again, then whispers, “I pulled the fire alarm then waited for a blonde-haired girl wearing a pink dress and silver shoes to exit the building with Travis. She actually got into a limo without Travis about five minutes after wandering out and went straight home .”

  “How do you know she made it home?” I ask quietly, unsure why we’re whispering. “Did you follow her ?”

  “I did. There wasn’t really another way to make sure she got home safely. Unless I offered her a ride myself. That might have made me come off a little bit stalker-ish, though.” The corners of his lips twitch. “And despite what some people may think, I’m not a stalker .”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.” After what he did for me last night—helping me out when I was desperate, then believing me enough to actually help—I owe him an apology. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you. I promise it’s not personal. I just …” I shift my weight. “I’ve just been going through some stuff lately and it’s messing with my moods .”

  His brows crinkle. “Is everything okay ?”

  I wrestle back a grimace. “There you go again, asking that question .”

  “Maybe that’s a sign that something seems wrong .”

  “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I want everyone checking in on me all the time, though .”

  A soft smile touches his lips. “It’s a good thing when people check in on you. It means they care .”

  I adjust the handle of my bag again, fidgety and restless. “I get that—I do—but not everyone wants to talk about their problems.” Not everyone can .

  “Just because someone doesn’t want to talk about their problems doesn’t mean they shouldn’t.” He inches closer, the tips of his boots clipping mine. My heart races in panic from his nearness, yet for some bizarre reason, I don’t budge. “I’ve done the whole keeping-shit-to-myself thing before, and trust me, it didn’t get me anything, other than a nervous breakdown .”

  “You had a nervous breakdown ?”

  He nods. “It happened a little over a year ago. I got shitfaced drunk, confessed all my dirty little secrets to my friends, then broke apart .”

  I gulp. Is that what’s going to happen to me ?

  “Then what happened? I mean, after you broke ?”

  His gaze seems almost too intense. “I got help .”

  “ From whom ?”

  “My friends. My family. My therapist .”

  “Oh.” My lips turn downward. Family. I don’t really have one of those. Not one that will try to help me anyway. As for therapy, that could work if I was ever able to get past the urge to vomit every time I even think about uttering my secret. “That’s good your family cares about you like that. Not all people have that, unfortunately .”

  “What about your friends?” he suggests. “Could you talk to them ?

  “No …” I shake my head. I need to stop talking about this. “Look, I appreciate what you did for me last night and for making sure I’m okay, but I promise I’m fine. I’m not going to ha
ve a nervous breakdown. I’m just a little stressed out; that’s all .”

  He sighs. “Wynter …”

  God, why does he keep saying my name like that? All soft, as if I’m something precious. It makes me want to kiss him. I almost did last night in the club, after he said he’d make sure Maci got home safely .

  But I’m not precious .

  I’m tainted .

  Ruined .

  Angry .

  And I just want to be left the hell alone .

  “I gotta go.” I back away, throwing him a wave. “Thanks again for doing that for me last night.” I spin on my heels and take off toward the front of the building. Running away again. But if he’d stop popping up in my life, I wouldn’t have to .

  Everette doesn’t call out my name, and I make it safely inside. Then I sprint down the hallway like a lunatic. Getting gawked at beats running into class late again .

  As I’m rounding into the wide hallway lined with classrooms, my sneakers squeaking on the floor, a shadow moves from my peripheral vision. I have no time to react before a set of fingers wrap around my arm .

  Everette has done that so many times to me I just assume it’s him. Then I glance up and meet the dark eyes of Travis .

  A slow smile curls at his lips as our gazes collide, and fear and anger simultaneously ripple through me .

  “Let me go,” I warn in a low, shaky voice . “Now .”

  He chuckles, peeling his fingers off me then raising his hands in front of him. “Don’t be a bitch. I just want to talk .”

  “I’m not being a bitch. And I sure as hell don’t want to talk.” I sidestep to leave, but he mimics my move .

  “Relax,” he says. “I just want to talk to you .”

  “And I already said I don’t want to talk,” I hiss through my teeth .

  “I’ll make it quick,” he assures me, shoving up the sleeves of his blue shirt .

  I inch to the side again, but he moves with me, sticking his hand out and blocking my path .