Page 118 of Riot Rules
“God, sit down and say what you want to say, Wren. You’re starting to freak me out.” This weird, antsy version of Jacobi is brand new to me, and I don’t know how the fuck to deal with him.
Wren collapses onto the armchair next to the couch. “Fine. I’m really sorry.”
I give him a hard look. “What for?”
“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”
“Would you?”
He closes his eyes, blowing out a long, weary breath. “Fair point. Okay. I wanted to apologize for not telling the cops about Fitz. And for being a shit to Mara. And,” He sighs heavily again, “I wanted to apologize for making things hard for you and Dash. I was so caught up in my own shit that I had no idea what was going on with him. I’ve been MIA for the past year. There arenoexcuses. I was a shitty friend.”
Wow. A year ago, Wren Jacobi would never have sat down and said this to me. He would rather have cut out his own tongue. It’s weird to see him like this, so open and honest, genuinely trying to make amends.
“What’s all of this for, Wren? Are you trying to get me on side, so I don’t cause problems for you and Elodie? ’Cause if that’s the case, then you don’t need to worry.I’mnot interested in playing weird games and coming between people.”
He gives me asee-what-you-did-theresmile. He doesn’t look impressed. “No. I want you to forgive Dash, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want one of my best friends to leave.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up a minute. “What do you mean,leave?”
Wren sits very still. I see the moment when it dawns on him—that I havenoidea what he’s talking about. “He’s going home, Mendoza.He’s going back to England.”
56
DASH
Flying economy is wretched,but I don’t even bother trying to book a seat in business class. It’s last minute so there probably won’t be any spots left anyway, and even if there is, they’ll be three times their normal price. I’m hardly short on cash, especially now that I just sold the Maybach—a nice little fuck you to my father—but I plan on being careful with my money from here on out.
I’ve found a place to stay: a small two bedroom flat, less than a ten-minute walk from the college. Miraculously, I’ve already secured my place there. I have enough credits accrued to guarantee my entry, but I’ll still come back to New Hampshire to complete my exams anyway. Everything’s been discussed with Harcourt. She dug her heels in at first, but when I pointed out that she’d have one less Riot House boy to worry about, she quickly came around.
All that’s left to do is pack.
Uber drivers do not like bringing Wolf Hall students up the mountain. I had to enter a false destination into the app to trick someone into even picking me up. The guy who accepted my ride was furious when I changed the drop off location to Riot House. He starts cursing at the foot of the mountain and doesn’t stop until he pulls up in front of the dirt driveway that leads to the house.
“This is the best I can do,” he snaps. “This is a Prius not a goddamn four-by-four. I don’t go off-roading.”
“Fine by me.” The walk to the house takes mere minutes, but I drag my feet, stretching them out as best I can. When I go inside, all of this becomes real. My shit needs to go into boxes. The piano…urgh, Christ, what thehellam I going to do with the piano? I’m sure Wren will let me figure it out when I come back to sit my exams.
I kick my muddy shoes off in the hall. I can hear Wren somewhere, in the kitchen, I think, probably talking to Elodie on the phone, which is for the best. When I sat down and told him what I was planning earlier, he’d just stared at me blankly for a solid sixty seconds, then shook his head, emphatically said, “No,” got up, and walked out of the front door without another word. I don’t think he took the news well.
Upstairs, my room’s in disarray. Clothes everywhere. Sheet music scattered all over the bed. Books in piles. I only got so far, sorting through what I was going to keep and what I was going to chuck out before I had to drive the Maybach over to its new owner in Albany. Now, looking around, I wish I’d never started. I should have just left everything where it was and dealt with it all when I come back in a couple of months. There’s just so much—
The stairs creak. And then creak again. Wren needs a lesson in sneaking if he’s trying to creep up here to pounce on me. I sigh, about to swing my bedroom door closed, when I see him stepping onto the landing…with his arm around Carina Mendoza’s waist.
“What thefuck!”
She shouldn’t be climbing stairs. She shouldn’t be standing upright. She shouldn’t even be out of the hospital. She flinches in pain, trying to remove her arm from around Wren’s neck, and I’m there in a heartbeat—
Fuck.
It’s not my job to help her anymore. I drop my hands, feeling absolutely helpless. “What the hell’s going on?” I snarl at Wren. “If you took her from the hospital against medical—”
“Relax, man. She was discharged. She’s gonna be fine.”
“Iamhere, you know.” Carrie mumbles. “Jesus—Dash. Just—can you—” She puts one hand on my shoulder. “Help me into your room. Let’s get some privacy.”
She wants to go into my room. She’s here of her own volition. Wrendidn’tkidnap her. I don’t know which part of this is more surprising. I clamp my mouth shut, supporting her, holding her carefully as I help her into my room. Wren grins, standing in the doorway; I take great pleasure in slamming the door closed in his face.
I’m already talking as I turn around. “This had nothing to do with me. I did not put him up to this—”
