Page 89 of Defiant
I stared down at the knuckle blocking mine out, the one labeled hate. A part of me wanted to pull back, to pull away, but I knew I couldn’t. I needed to hear him admit it, needed to hear him say it.
This was my fault. Archer’s life was unraveling because of me. I should be happy—that’s what I wanted, after all, wasn’t it? But I wasn’t. I couldn’t be content with the way things had gone. Archer still hadn’t responded to my text, and I knew he must hate me. Brittany undoubtedly told him this was my fault.
“I’ve known the truth about Archer’s family for over a week now,” Vaughn said, his hand holding mine with a strength I could not pull away from, nor did I want to. “I…I’ll admit, I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew it’d hurt you. I knew you’d never want to use it against him.”
Yeah, I wanted to get back at Archer, but not like this. I wasn’t needlessly cruel.
“Then why would you—”
Vaughn shook his head, interrupting me, “I didn’t. I kept the information to myself. This wasn’t me, Jaz.”
I could hardly breathe. “If you didn’t do it, then who…” Who the hell did?
Dante shrugged, his blue eyes on our clasped hands. “Maybe someone else wanted to get back at the family,” he offered, looking like he wanted to tear my hand out from under Vaughn’s and snatch it for himself. When both Vaughn and I looked at him, he added, “What? It wasn’t me. I don’t give a shit about what happens to Archer fucking Vega.”
Vaughn was measured in releasing my hand, and I asked, “So it’s true, then? It’s not some lie?”
“No,” Vaughn whispered, “it’s not a lie. It’s true.”
The words hit me like a physical slap.
It was true, then. Archer’s dad really did do something illegal and totally shitty, considering he had a family and a wife. God, I wondered who the girl was, if she was another student here, or if she was from a neighboring town, or…
No, you know what? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The man got what he deserved, and I could only hope Ollie would not be his lawyer.
Dante tried to change the mood of the lunch table, starting to talk about the dance tomorrow. I tried to talk, tried to bury away the foul mood that had surfaced when I’d heard what had happened yesterday to Archer’s dad, but it was difficult. The only thing I wanted to do right now was see Archer, tell him that I was sorry, that I had nothing to do with it. Even though he’d fucked me over and lied to me, I wanted to hug that boy and tell him everything would be alright.
What was it they said? Time healed all wounds?
Hopefully time wouldn’t let us down now.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Other students were either talking about the raid on the Archer residence yesterday or the winter formal tomorrow. Dresses and dates, dinners and corsages; for once, no one paid any attention to little old me.
If only it could be like that all of the time.
Yeah, you know what? I would’ve liked to move under the radar here, become a ghost to everyone and everything, just get by through my last few months of senior year and graduate. But of course, that wasn’t what happened, and now I was stuck, knee-deep, in a huge mess I had no idea how to get out of.
The end of the school day came, and I was like a zombie as I went to my locker. Not many teachers had given homework for the weekend, since the dance was tomorrow, but I did have some math problems to do tonight. Math was one of those terrible subjects where you always had homework. I hated it.
I frowned to myself as I dug my math book out and shoved it into my bag. I felt cold in my hoodie, even though it’s the same one I’d been wearing for a while. Today’s events made me feel so out of my element, so cold. Another thing I hated.
My bag still hung on the hook in the locker, and I was about to reach for it to pick it up, zip it up, and toss it over my shoulder—leave this fucking school for the day—but a hand suddenly appeared, slamming it shut in front of me and nearly catching my fingers in the crossfire of his anger.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” A rough, angry voice entered my ears, and my back automatically snapped straight.
I didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. I knew, because I’d listen to that voice more than I cared to admit, had that hand touching a hell of a lot more than it should’ve.
Archer.
The halls were busy with the end of the day traffic, but I knew we would have an audience soon enough.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, hating how much of a liar I sounded like. I bit my tongue, turning to face him, finding he stood less than six inches from me, cornering me against my own damned locker. “Whatever you think, it wasn’t me—” I froze when I noted the absolute rage on his face.
He’d never looked at me like that before, like he hated me with his entire being. Like I was the antagonizer, the perpetrator, the culprit of all that had gone wrong in his life lately. Like I was nothing more than an ugly pile of dirt he wanted to step on and forget about.
I hated the look he gave me, disliked how small and insignificant it made me feel.
His blue gaze was filled with ire, righteous fury at the girl he thought had ruined his life. “I thought you were different than everyone else,” he spat, frowning. “I thought you were better, but I guess the joke’s on me, huh? I guess you never really cared.” He pushed off my locker, causing me to flinch even though he made no moves to hurt me, and he took a step back in the hall, lifting both arms as he said, “You win. You fucking win.”
