“He isn’t in trouble—I’m just confirming all the details. We want to corroborate his story with yours.”

“But, the drugs . . .” I trail off. “Will he be arrested?”

“No,” he sighs. “He won’t be arrested.”

I frown.

“I don’t understand.”

Officer Rains looks down at his notebook, then runs a hand through his sandy-colored hair.

“He won’t be arrested, because he was just doing his job.”

I blink. Then I blink again.

“He was what now?”

He touches my shoulder gently, as though he knows what he’s going to say is about to knock me asunder.

“My brother was working undercover, Hyacinth. He’s not a high school student. He’s a cop.”

***

I don’t hear most of what Rains says after that, not that he has much to say at all. Instead, I sit, frozen, staring at the framed starfish print on the wall across from my bed. I think about everything I know and everything I thought I knew. I try to remember anything that could have tipped me off.

There was a reason he looked so much older.

It’s because he was so much older.

Fuck.

When Officer Rains finally leaves, he gives me a pat on the shoulder and a sympathetic smile.

“Hang in there, alright? I hope you’re feeling like your old self soon.”

I just blink at him, because I don’t know if I want to feel like my old self soon. What self could I possibly want to be now? The self before I met Smith? The self when I believed he was a student? Or the self I am today, enlightened and confused and hurt? None of it brings me any peace.

Dad clears his throat once Officer Rains leaves the room.

“Princess?” I look over at him and he’s holding a book in his hands. I squint at it.

“What’s that?”

“Officer Asher left this for you. He said you lent it to him.”

“You saw him?”

Dad shakes his head. “He called me after you were brought here. Said he’d left the book on the shelf in here.”

He sets the battered copy of Dracula on my bed and I stare at it. There are tears in my eyes when I run a hand over the worn cover.

“Did he say anything else?” I whisper to Dad. He shakes his head.

“No—he just asked me to give this to you.”

I nod, feeling hollow. Slowly, I lift it up in my hands and open it to the title page. Maybe he left me a note—and explanation—something.

The paper is yellowed, but blank. Sighing, I flip through the pages. I’m almost to the end, when something catches my eye. At the bottom of one page, there’s a single sentence underlined twice in blue pen.

There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights,

the light of all lights.

Then, beneath that, just above the page number, is a note written with that same pen.

I’m sorry.

S. A.

The tears are back. This time, the sheen of them has burst forth and I’m crying—really, truly sobbing. Dad’s hand is on my arm, and, for the first time in years, I wish I were able to crawl into his lap like a little girl.

But, instead, he holds my hand and strokes my skin, whispering that everything will be okay.

In all these years, through all our tragedies, this is the first time I think my dad’s ever lied to me.

And it’s the first time I’ve ever wanted him to.

Chapter Sixteen

Progress Report

“Dude. You have to stop moping.”

Rainey plops down next to me on the couch and I wince.

“Hey, watch it—I’m still in pain here, you know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. I know. You’ve used it as the reason for why you haven’t moved off the couch in the last week.”

I glare at her. “A little sympathy wouldn’t be out of the question.”

From across the room, Carson snorts.

“Cyn. I love you. Rainey loves you. And it’s our love for you that makes it imperative that we tell you this.”

She takes a dramatic deep breath.

“You smell.”

I make a face at her. “I do not!”

“Well, okay—maybe not. But your hair is a hot mess and you’ve been wearing the same shirt for three days.”

“It hurts to lift my arms, you ass.”

“I know.” Carson crosses the room and sits on the other side of me. “We aren’t trying to be dicks. I just hate to see you like this.”

“Yeah, I hate to see me like this, too, which is why I’m avoiding the bathroom mirror.”

Rainey throws up her hands.

“You know what? Forget it. Sit here and imprint your ass into the couch cushion. See if I care.”

I grimace as she gets up and stalks back to her bedroom.

“What’s up with her?”

Carson sighs. “She’s worried about you. I’m worried about you, too.”

“I’m fine.”

Carson barks out a laugh. “Bull-fucking-shit.”

I shrug, picking at the pilled upholstery on the couch’s arm. She’s right. It is bullshit. I’m not fine.

But what am I supposed to say?

That I can’t stop picturing Smith’s face, fear-stricken, just before the Mustang slammed into my body?

That the only person I want near me, the only person I want to see right now, has been lying to me since the moment we met?

“Just call him back,” Carson says, clearly reading my mind. I shake my head.

“No.”

“He’s called you a dozen times, Cyn.”

“I know that.”

“Don’t you want to hear him out?”

Yes. I wanted to hear him at least—his voice, his chuckle, his growl, his moan.

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to hear him out.”

Carson shifts to face me on the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her.

“Why not?”

I glare at her. “Do you not think I’ve been betrayed by men enough in the last year? I let the last one hurt me before he walked away. I’m not doing that this time.”

“You already have,” she mutters under her breath. When I open my mouth to protest, she holds up a hand. “Look, I’m just going to say this one time and then I promise not to bring it up again. But I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Cars, I really don’t need to hear this right now.”

“Yes, you do,” she says. “And since you aren’t cleared to drive yet, you really have no choice but to sit here and listen to me.”

I close my eyes. “Look, Brent hurt me. Badly. He gave up on us long before I realized it was even happening. When he left for med school, I was sure he’d change his mind—that he was just branching out and that he’d realize we were right for each other eventually. Instead, I found out he was hooking up with some chick from Delaware or some shit. That he never had any intention of thinking things through or taking time. He just didn’t want to be with me. Our relationship wasn’t important to him—I wasn’t important to him.”

I pause and take a breath.

“And now—now I find out that one more guy has completely misled me in every way? Yeah, no. No fucking way. Not again.”

I let my head fall back against the couch cushion, and Carson sighs.

“I don’t want to make you feel bad. I’m not saying that what Smith did isn’t sort of fucked up. But he was undercover—he was working with the school and the police department. It was his job. It’s not like he chose to seek you out and seduce you.”

I crack one eye open. “I know all of this.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you aren’t accepting it. You think he’s done something to hurt you when, in fact, he was trying to protect you.”

I lift a brow. “Sounds like he’s got you convinced.”

She shrugs. “He’s called here every day. I wasn’t going to ignore the poor guy forever.”

I close my eyes again. It’s been two weeks exactly since I got out of the hospital, which makes it three weeks since I’ve seen Smith. According to Officer Rains, he stayed with me in the hospital the night of the accident until he had to report back to the station. He even called my dad to let him know what happened. I was still unconscious, so I don’t remember that part—all I remember is the look on his face just as J. D. plowed into my body with his car.