I’m not this person. I’m not. I can’t do this, but I already have. The grease on the stove catches fire, and an orange flame flickers in the pan, engulfing the entire thing. Tongues of fire dance, tall and thin, spreading, becoming thicker every second. The flames jump from the pan to the stovetop, licking the walls. I have no choice now. The room is filled with smoke and I can barely breathe. I strike a second match and drop it to the floor in front of the stove. It ignites, racing rapidly across the room, burning away the green liquid in a flash. Before I can blink, flames are consuming everything. The fire on the stove spits, hissing as it grows. The fluid on the floor meets up with the spilled grease, and the room fills with thick black smoke.
I back out of the kitchen and move toward the front of the house. I need to wait a few minutes to make sure it doesn’t go out. This house has to burn to the ground, or Ferro will come back. I cover my face with a hand towel from the bathroom and back away from the spreading flames. When I press my back to the front door, I try to wait, but I’m terrified. The flames don’t stay contained to the kitchen. They spread down the hallway, to Nate’s room, and now they’re coming for me. Wallpaper melts off the walls as the intense heat rolls toward me. The fire pops and crackles as it inches forward, consuming everything in its path. I toss the towel into the fire down the hall.
With my back to the door, I twist the knob and rush outside, coughing up a lung. I leave the door open, feeding the flames, and stumble onto the porch with my phone in my hand. I don’t dial. Instead, I press it to my ear and say loudly to no one, “There’s a fire!” I give the address and cough relentlessly, lingering too close to the house.
As I end my fake call and slip my phone back into my pocket, the moving guy from across the street rushes over and pulls me away from the house. He’s a thick man, all muscle, and the type of guy who would run inside. He asks me, “Is there anyone else inside?”
“No.” I cough so hard I double over and clutch my stomach.
He stands with me as more people gather. The flames at the back of the house reach up to the roof now. There’s a loud explosion and the sound of glass shattering as black smoke begins to billow up from kitchen windows. “I’ll call for help.”
“I already did.” I start crying and tell him I was cooking, and the grease caught fire. I lie through my teeth while praying it looks like stupidity and not arson. Maybe I should have trusted Ferro, did things his way, and left. But I couldn’t risk it. If Ferro lied about anything, it could mean jail for Nate and me. At least if things go to hell, I know I tried everything I could.
Explaining to the moving guy, I manage between coughs, “I couldn’t put it out. Throwing water on it didn’t work. It’s almost like it made it worse.”
The man blanches and looks back up at the house. “You threw water on a grease fire? Are you burned?” He doesn’t scold me for something so stupid. He just looks me over.
“No, I just inhaled too much smoke. I tried to put it out, but I couldn’t.”
People gather, and everyone starts telling everyone else that the police were already called, that a fire truck should be here any second, but there are no sirens. No cops. No firefighters. No ambulance. By the time a truck does arrive, the house is consumed in a wall of flames. Someone must have called and scolded them for taking so long. They keep the fire from spreading, but it’s too late for Nate’s house.
After I’m examined, I’m sent away in an ambulance, even after protesting. I swallowed too much smoke, and I can barely breathe. They want to keep me for observation. I want to say no, but it’s the best way out of here. I go knowing I’ll never see Nate again. But he’s alive and at that moment, that’s all that matters.
CHAPTER 12
As I lie on a bed in the ER, I stare at the ceiling feeling nauseous. I’m not sure if I want to barf from guilt or smoke, but I feel sick. When I hear his voice, I want to die. Why is he here? They had to have told him what happened.
Nate rips open the curtain and rushes toward me. He doesn’t stop when he sees me covered in soot, lying down. He throws his arms around me and hugs me for a moment, and only releases me when I start coughing again. “I thought you were burned. My God, Kerry, what the hell were doing?”
“Cooking,” I lie. My gaze slips across his long enough to see that he senses the lie.
He leans in close, and whispers into my ear, “You tell me right now what the fuck you were doing, and if you leave out one little detail, I’ll tell them you lit that fire on purpose.” When he pulls back, his eyes meet mine.
Icy fear drips down my spine, and I’d do anything to avoid this conversation. I hedge, “I didn’t mean to—”
“Bullshit,” he hisses. “For one, I didn’t know you were there. Second, you’re not so stupid that you’d throw water on a grease fire. Third—” he reaches for my phone on the counter and presses the button. He flips to the call log and shows me the screen. “You never called for help.”
“Nate—”
He doesn’t let me talk. Instead, he plows ahead, “This was intentional, but for the life of me, I don’t know why. So explain it! Tell me why you fucking torched my house before I make you regret ever running into me.” He’s pissed. His body is a mass of muscle, corded tight, ready to explode. It seems like he wants to punch a hole in the wall.
I can’t stop trembling, but I manage to say it. “Ferro wants your prop—”
His cold eyes regard me wearily. “When did you talk to him? How did you talk to him? I haven’t even spoken with him, so how the fuck did you have a conversation with my asshole father before me?”
I wince and try to speak loudly, to argue back, but I can’t. I start coughing and then manage through a raw throat. “It was an accident. I went to see the lawyer who sent the letter and Ferro was there. He kind of thought I was dangerous, and I let him think it. He gave you back your house.”
Nate growls, “Why?”
“I may have threatened him.”
“You threatened him?” I nod. “What’d you say?”
“I may have offered to make him a eunuch.”
“What the fuck were you thinking?” His hands fly as he tries to keep his voice to a whisper, but he can’t. Instead, he’s in my face, hissing at me while I’m trapped in the hospital bed.
“Nate,” I say his name softly and try to touch him, but he jerks away.
“Enough bullshit, Kerry. How did that lead to the fire? Tell me. Now.”
I explain most of the story as quickly as I can, intentionally deleting some parts—like the part with his father threatening to kill him. No kid should ever have to hear that. The fact is omitted. But without that piece of information, it makes me look like I did this on purpose. There’s no Ferro forcing my hand, no threats, no blackmail. It looks like his fuckbuddy lit his house on fire.
“Nate, I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am. I loved you, Kerry. I can’t fucking believe it, but I knew I was falling for you. I tried to stay away, and I couldn’t. You were worth risking everything to me. What was I to you? Just another conquest? Another mind to screw with before ripping my entire fucking life apart? You disgust me.”
“Nathan…” I reach for him and then drop my hand. My face pinches tightly, as I try not to cry. It’s better if he thinks I don’t care, but when I hear him say he loves me, I’m gutted. Breath leaves my body, and I want to cry. “You love me?”
His face fills with scorn. “I did. I don’t now, and I never will again. I don’t make the same mistake twice, and you were a mistake, Kerry. Stay away from me. Drop my class. Leave this college. If I ever see you again, I’ll report this.”
He turns and leaves before I have a chance to say a word. I may have saved the man I love, but I lost him in the process.
CHAPTER 13
Josh picks me up from the hospital with Beth in tow. “Are you all right? What the hell happened?”
I tell them, “Cooking accident mixed with stupidity. It didn’t end well.”
Beth looks worried. “Is Nate okay?”
It’s the first time Josh hears his name. He studies me for a moment, putting things together. “Nathan Smith? The professor?”
“Yeah.” I hand the nurse the papers I signed, and she’s gone.
“Your fuckbuddy was a professor?” He stares at me like he doesn’t know me at all. “I thought it was some schmuck from the art department. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”
Josh glances at Beth and then back at me. “Kerry, you love him. Did you tell him?”
I stand up, grab my things, and rush out of the room. My throat isn’t hurting as badly now. They gave me something to soothe it, but I still don’t answer him. Beth rushes after me, asking, “You love him? When did that happen?”
Josh rushes up behind me, grabs my elbow and whirls me around. “Kerry, stop.”
I fall apart. I slam my head into his chest and start crying. His arms come up and hold me. We’re in front of the entrance to the ER. After a tight squeeze, Beth urges us to the side. Her hand is on my back, and her brother’s arm is across my waist, ushering me toward the car. “He said he loved me.” Tears streak my cheeks, rolling away the grime and soot.
Josh sounds excited for a moment, “Well, that’s a good thing then.”
“No, it’s not. He knows that the fire wasn’t an accident, but I didn’t tell him anything else.”
Beth knows about Ferro and the favor. “Kerry, you need to tell him it wasn’t you.”
“No.” I glare at her fiercely. “I’m not going to tell him the only parent he has left would kill him to take his fucking house away. I couldn’t say it. Even if Ferro is a dick, at least he's alive. That’s something. It means Nate’s not alone. If I tell him the truth, then he will be. I can’t do that to him.”
Beth and Josh glance at each other, realizing that they both have pieces of a fractured story. I sigh inwardly, knowing it’s only a matter of time until they solve the puzzle and know everything. When we slip into Josh’s car, no one says a word. We drive back to Josh’s house in silence.
CHAPTER 14
I drop Nate’s class and avoid him as much as possible. I don’t leave campus though, and so I see him walk by once in a while. I don’t know where he’s living, but I’ve not heard anything else about the fire or his property. The fire marshal spoke to me once and scolded me for being so stupid, but he deemed the fire an accident. That means Nate should have insurance money, and Ferro will take the land. Nate couldn’t stop the fracking by being a holdout, but I admire him for trying. I wish I could tell him how much he means to me. It’s not until I lost Nate that I realize how I truly feel.
I love him. I’d do anything to see him smile, to hear his laughter again. He makes me feel alive and he makes me want to be a better person—but I’m not a good person. I’m me. I've done deplorable things, and I can’t hide it. I still feel raw, stripped bare. Every thought of Nate hurts, every waking memory of his lips on my body—knowing I’ll never kiss him again kills me.
Silence has become my best friend, and I avoid everyone else. Beth tries to talk, but I’m a bitch to her. I don’t cooperate, and I wander off in the middle of sentences. I care about her and know I’m being a shitty friend. She could do better. Eventually, she’ll see that and leave me alone.
Chelsey, on the other hand, still thinks we’re BFFs. I can’t ditch her. I pull my messenger bag over my shoulder and head to the art building to avoid her and her new boyfriend. Kevin and Chelsey. Who knew?
Josh doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s not spoken about anything of significance since he picked me up in the hospital. I start crying sometimes, and he holds me, saying nothing. It’s like we’re both stuck in the waiting room to Hell.
Josh is waiting for me outside the art building. We head inside and up the stairwell to the classroom. The door is unlocked, as usual, for students to work on their paintings. It’s past nine at night, so only a few people are around. They’ve mostly gone home, which is fine by me. I’d rather be alone.
As we walk through the door, Josh says, “I found something, about the bottles.”
I set my stuff down on a desk near my cubby and turn to look at him. His eyes are swollen and dark. Sleep deprived like mine. “What it is?”
He’s almost too afraid to say it. “That kind of wrapper—the collar on the bottle—can’t be tampered with or resealed. It’s not like shrink-wrap. It would melt if someone opened it and tried to heat seal it again.”
I pause, hand on my painting, and shake my head. “Then how’d the drugs get in the bottle?”
“It had to be done before it was sealed, but there’s a bottling plant for that brand of vodka in town. Can you guess whose father is the manager?”
“Who?”
“Sherry’s dad.”
I leave the painting in the cubby and walk over to Josh. “Wait a second, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That Sherry drugged everyone? No, it wasn’t her. I asked her about it and guess who she got her bottle for the study group from?”
“Who?”
“Her brother, Scott.”
“Why the hell would Scott want to drug me? Or Beth? Or you?”
Josh sucks in a deep breath and wanders over to a table, and sits on the top. “I don’t know, but maybe we should go find out.”
“He’s down the hall in another classroom. I saw him on our way in.”
Josh nods. “I know. Let’s go find out what the fuck is going on.”
The two of us head down a few doors and slip inside. Scott has his back to us and is working in red on a painting that screams HELP ME. It’s filled with violent brush strokes and thin layers of paint piled so thick in spots that the image is nearly three-dimensional. Next to it is a second canvas that’s nearly complete. Monochromatic shades of blue swirl through the painting to form a man with dark hair hanging in his eyes, concealing his face. It’s Carter.
“Scott,” I call out as we walk over intent on asking him one thing then blindsided by the contrasting paintings. “Did you paint that one, too?” I point toward the portrait of Carter with the soft lines and light brush strokes. The way Carter’s head tips forward, chin tucked, makes him seem vulnerable.
Scott pushes his blue hair out of his face, smearing red through the top. He doesn’t seem to care. “Yeah.”
Josh cocks his head to the side. “Is that Carter?”
“Yes, it is.” Scott’s voice is quiet but obviously annoyed. “What do you want?”
I blink at the painting of Carter, my eyes flicking between Scott and the canvas. Memories flip behind my eyes like cards, flashing images of Scott behind Carter, always there, always silent. I used to think of the blue haired boy like a sentry, always standing guard, but that’s not it. That was never it. “Oh, God!” I turn to Scott and can’t stop staring. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Say what now?” Josh leans in, arms folded loosely across his chest. He’s standing on one foot, trying to get closer to me. He glances at my face, then at the painting of Carter, then back at Scott.
“Scott’s an upperclassman. Scott’s been here the entire time. Before me, before you…” My voice trails off and, for a second, I think I’ve got it wrong, that there’s no way.
But Scott bristles and turns toward me, leaving his brush on his easel. “You’re wrong.”
Holy shit! I’m right! A smile spreads across my face as the pieces of the puzzle land perfectly in place. “You’re in love with Carter. You have been since your freshman year. He moved in with you after the whole thing with Josh and his girlfriend. You knew everything. Carter confided in you and told you how hurt he was. You couldn’t stand it, so you got even for him.”
Josh flinches like he's been slapped. “He did what?”
“Your dad manages the bottling plant. Slipping drugs into a liquor bottle wouldn’t be a big deal. You wouldn't have to reseal anything. You could cut the original off
, open the bottle, spike it, and use the machine to put on another plastic seal. No one would know.”
Scott laughs darkly. “Keep making up stories, Kerry.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? Once the why is there, it becomes obvious. You targeted the two people who caused Carter the most pain. You made it look like Josh raped Carter’s girlfriend, but he didn’t did he? You staged that entire scene then stood back and watched.”
“Bullshit.”
Josh has his arms folded across his chest. His gaze flicks between Scott and me. “He staged it? Why?”
“Because you hurt Carter. You both did, so he paid you both back, tenfold. That leaves Emily at the club. That was you, too, wasn’t it? You knew she liked Carter, so you took care of it. What about the other rape victims recently? Did they screw with Carter too?”
“What about the bottle at the study group?” Josh asks.
“That was an accident. Sherry didn’t ask Scott for the bottle, she stole one from his stash. She told us the bottles were expensive while she was eating cookies, and that the group didn’t bring in cheap stuff. She didn’t have the cash to buy her own, so she took his. Beth and I were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Josh’s hands fist at his sides. “Say something, asswipe. Refute it or say it’s true, but saying nothing just makes you look guilty as hell.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you believe this bullshit.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t look so goddamned tense, like she figured you out.”