Page 28 of The Knight

I don't know how to reconcile his impossibly attractive outside with the vindictive and petty core I know lies beneath. Out of all the Elites, Cole could really do something with himself, change the world with all his money and influence—his is the fortune that will be the largest, when he inherits it. Yet he chooses to play games and carry out petty grievances instead of seeing the world for the broken place it is and trying to put the world back together.

What tempts me most is the belief that I could change him, mold him to become a better man.

That way lies a trap only young women fall into, and once we're consumed by it—by the dreams of a young man who could be better, but won't—we never come back out the other side whole.

"We switched places," Cole says finally, "because Michael had a body of a girl in the trunk of the car, and he wanted me framed. At the time, he said it was because he was high as a kite and he didn't think I was that drunk, but honestly... I think he was using me. And I was just barely shitfaced enough to fall for it."

Staring up at him, I find myself torn between two parts of me: my heart that says everything about him is telling the truth, and the darkness that lies just behind my heart, which insists no one should ever believe anything he says until his dying days.

It doesn't matter which part of me is right.

In the end, I've chosen to make a deal with Cole Masterson, and the only way to see that deal through to the end is to let him think I believe him. Whether or not I do.

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, I look at the oak trees, which have given up their leaves so easily. Then I stare back up into his hazel eyes and make myself look like a girl without a heart of fire and a dagger buried in her back. "So that's the truth. I believe you."

Cole chuckles, the sound dark and empty. "You don't," he says lightly, lighter than he should, "but it doesn't matter. We're two snakes, you and I, and we're tangled together whether we want to be or not."

Before I can tell him to fuck off—or worse, have another terrible lapse in judgment and kiss him again—he spins on his heel and walks off, towards nothing in particular, his figure growing distant with every one of his long strides.

I hate that he takes a little piece of me with him when he goes.

* * *

Wayborne seems smaller than it was before. I know that's impossible; the town hasn't changed, it's just me that's changed. I've been at Coleridge long enough that my vision has adjusted.

But on the other hand, after the tornado destroyed so much of our street and other parts of town, things had to be rebuilt, and there are still holes where the refuge has been cleared away but nothing new has come in its places. Wayborne isn't exactly the kind of town that attracts developers with deep pockets eager to build shopping centers and condominiums. Whatever gets rebuilt anew will have the sweat and tears of our local residents in every beam, just like the house I grew up in bore the mark of my grandfather from the front door to the back.

Wally doesn't drive me down the street I grew up in.

Instead he drives me towards his house, where Mom is staying for a bit, since her new apartment building got mold. He keeps a light tone as he talks about it, but I have no doubt his family is under some strain.

"We can go to Aunt Cheryl's," I remind him. "She doesn't live that far away. And I'm sure she'll let us crash on her sofa."

"No way. Dad wants the Wilders back in Wayborne. Besides, we have more than a couch to crash on. Mom is setting up the pullout sofa in the basement just for you. And Christmas is better in a big, happy group."

It is—which is why I don't know what to feel about the fact that my dad hasn't even contacted us to tell us he's not coming home for Christmas. Or at least, if he called Mom, he kept it from her. There are questions that loom in our future, thoughts of divorce papers and alimony, me figuring out what I'm doing after high school, and if I'll get a job at the closest retail outlet or diner, since I'm unlikely to get a scholarship big enough to be able to go to college.

All things that are hard to think about now that Silas isn't in the picture. He was going to sweep me away to some big city, far from Mom and Dad, and we were going to leave Wayborne in the rearview mirror for good. Now I don't know what to think or feel—it seems impossible to consider leaving Mom after everything, and somehow I doubt I'll be able to make it on my own without my brother's genius to support me.

Maybe there's something on that laptop partition that could help with that—for all I know he put some computer program there, not evidence that got him killed. Lukas and I still haven't cracked it. The sooner we do the better—especially because, as the days roll on behind me, I feel further from my brother than ever.

This is my first Christmas without him.

Just like my most recent birthday was my seventeenth, alone.

Wally is right; it's for the best that Mom and I are staying with his family. At least this way we won't be completely alone. Their presence might just be enough to fill in the cracks and missing pieces of what use to be an entire family, darkness and all.

"Ready?" Wally asks as he parks the car, studying me. "You don't have to be holiday cheery if you don't want to, you know. We'll all understand if you're a little down, now more than ever before."

"I know how much your mom loves Christmas." I pat him on the shoulder. "I'll be fine. I can sing all the carols and drink plenty of eggnog."

"My mom puts alcohol in that."

"All the more reason to guzzle it down." Throwing him a smile that I almost feel inside me, I push open the passenger side door and slide out of his truck onto the ground. "Let's go be merry and bright."

"If you say so."

Truthfully, there's only one thing I want for Christmas: to finalize my revenge. The sooner January comes, the better.

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