Page 78 of Every Hidden Truth

Forcing all thoughts of Unknown from my mind, I swapped places with Ben so he could take his turn in the bathroom.I crawled into his bed and snuggled into his bedding as my stomach flip-flopped with nerves.

Ben joined me in the bed a moment later, the room dark except for the dull light peeking through the crack left in the bathroom door. I accepted him with open arms as he curled himself around me like a python. His head rested on my chest, his hair tickling my chin, and I wrapped my arm around his shoulders as my free hand twined with his over my stomach.

“Goodnight, Silas,” he murmured, loud enough for my ears only, and I smiled into the darkness.

“Goodnight, Ben.” I stared at the black ceiling until the snores of our friends revved through the air and Ben’s breathing deepened.

When I was sure he slept soundly, I pecked the top of his head and whispered my confession into his hair, a secret encased in shadow. “I love you.”

22

Not That Breakable

The rest of winterbreak passed in a blur of happiness, and even the beginning of school couldn’t dampen my good spirits. It was the last semester of my final year in high school. I had an amazing boyfriend, actual friends, and my relationship with my dad was better than it had ever been. Life was surprisingly good.

School started, and my life fell into a routine of sorts. Ben had two more months left in the swim season, practicing every day after school, but he came over afterward to eat dinner with me on the nights I didn’t work. Mondays, I hung out with Kim after school, and my weekends were usually spent with Ben.

Once a week, Dad and I skyped Will and Cora. They kept us updated on the baby, and it felt like we were actually a family again. Mom’s abandonment had ripped through us, but the festering wounds were finally starting to heal. We had scars, but I didn’t see them as a weakness. Scars were proof that we’d survived.

Will continued his tenuous relationship with Mom, talking with her on the phone, but he hadn’t met with her yet. I understood his hesitancy. I’d drag my feet too, if I was in his shoes.

The new semester was both better and worse than the last. Better, because I had the best boyfriend in the world—something I didn’t have at the beginning of the school year—and I started my art class.

To be honest, I loved it, and Ben was annoyingly smug about that fact.

But the semester was also worse, because Ben and I had zero classes together. We shared a lunch period, but I hardly saw him between classes.

And it was also worse because of Eric fucking Boyt.

Unlike my boyfriend, I saw Boyteverywhere. Our school wasn’t obnoxiously huge, but Boyt’s constant presence in the corridors I used was uncanny. I could traverse the hallways without catching a glimpse of Ben, but Boyt lurked around every damn corner!

His glares followed me across the cafeteria, and when I was alone at my locker between classes, he would waltz by, as close as possible without actually touching me. He was like a stray dog I couldn’t shake, except this dog didn’t want me to take it home and care for it. No, this canine was rabid and wanted to rip me apart piece by piece.

Whenever possible, I avoided him, but when contact was inevitable, I did my best not to cower. He scared me—he would always scare me—but I was sick and tired of submitting to his intimidation. I would no longer allow my fear to dictate what I did or how I acted.

So I held my head high and glowered right back. By refusing to turn away, I claimed my own type of victory. And, holy hell, if it didn’t irritate the shit out of him.

He got off on the control, on the power trip. It wasn’t about sex; I didn’t think it ever had been. It was about dominance, the high of power. I fought him, disrespected him, and forcing me into submission was his way of teaching me a lesson.

“I’ll teach you respect.”

That revelation had been a chilling one. I didn’t want to understand Boyt. Understanding made him more human, and it was easier believing him to be a monster. But no matter how much I didn’t want him to be human, he was, and on some sick, twisted level, I understood him.

Or parts of him, at least.

So instead of cowering from him, I robbed him of the stolen control. I either stood straight and glared right back at him when he tried to intimidate me in the hallways. Or I ignored him completely, which seemed to infuriate him even more. Fear was foreplay, and fighting him was a challenge. Indifference, though? Oh, my indifference rankled.

Two weeks after school started, I literally ran into Eric during a bathroom break. My second to last class of the day was pre-calculus—which sucked ass in the completelynotfun way—and I tended to stow away in the bathroom for five minutes during the lesson to gather my sanity. Whether Boyt knew this or simply had terribly convenient timing, I would never know.

After using the toilet and washing my hands, I ran my wet fingers through my hair to fix the flyaways. Once satisfied, I rounded the corner to leave, and it was déjà vu. The moment my body hooked around the corner, I smashed face-first into a hard chest. The stench of cigarettes and familiar musk assaulted me, and I recoiled on instinct, my heart leaping to my throat.

It had been over a month since I’d been this close to Boyt, and against all odds, he’d gotten bigger. His muscles stretched the seams of his shirt, and he loomed over me like a redwood tree. Maybe I’d simply forgotten his immense size, but he lookedlike he’d added ten pounds of muscle to his already hulking physique.

With dark hair cut close to his scalp, a strong jaw, and dark eyes, he was attractive in a brooding, dangerous sort of way. Being the popular bad boy drew gaggles of girls waiting for his attention, and I was sure he enjoyed it.

“Brigs,” he greeted with a sardonic smirk.

I swallowed the urge to regurgitate my lunchroom spaghetti with mystery-meatballs all over his sneakers. “Boyt.”

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