The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,130
to pay for what he did … to all of us. I haven’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened. I want to be here.”
I nod. “You really are a good guy, Lincoln. Why were you ever interested in Tori?” Realizing how that sounded, I stumble on my words. “Uh, I mean … are you still together?”
Lincoln laughs. “No. That was over before it began. I think … I was fascinated by her, the enigma that is Tori Ruiz. But she’s really not all that.”
I lower my eyes, knowing exactly what he means.
“I’m sorry about what happened at Stella’s,” Lincoln says, nudging my shoulder. “What they did to you was wrong. Because you, Lana Peri, are all that.”
I press my mouth into a small smile. “Walking chaos.”
Lincoln laughs loudly, revealing his brilliant white teeth. “Definitely. But now we’re here to make sure you don’t get lost to your bedlam. You’re not alone in this.”
Arden walks over to us and asks out of the side of her mouth, “What do you think would happen if we bit into the giant mushrooms in that other garden?”
“I already feel like I’ve been dosed, walking through this trippy place,” Lincoln says, making Arden giggle.
“Want to go back to the dance floor?” Grant proposes. “I’d really like to dance with you before … you know.”
“Yeah, I’d like that to,” I answer, recognizing that no matter how much we’re enjoying ourselves now, a cloud is hanging over our heads, ready to pour on our party.
We dance until the sun sets, and the Court takes on a new life with bursts of glowing color. We spin and laugh. Ashton almost knocks down several people with her enormous gown. I writhe against Grant’s firm body to the point of scandal. It is the best night. About to be the worst.
“Dance with me.” Brendan holds out his hand expectantly. I take another gulp of water, waiting for my sweat-soaked skin to cool down. “C’mon, Thaylina, let’s go.”
“You’re ever the gentleman,” I grumble, taking his hand and letting him lead me to the dance floor filled with couples swaying to a pathetic love song.
“You realize you’ve been lying lately,” he says with his hand cupping mine and the other set on my waist like we’re in some Victorian film. It’s weird, but so is he.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s only really when you’re being facetious or sarcastic. But they’re still untruths. We’re all liars, Lana.”
“Some more than others,” I jab. He spins me away from him and then reels me back with a flick of his wrist. “Why lie? What’s the point? Shame? To spare someone’s feelings? Really. I don’t understand.”
Brendan dips me, my hair brushing the floor. “It’s how we protect ourselves.” He jerks me back up, meeting my eyes.
“Is that why you said you were four when you were really fourteen?”
His feet stop moving. Then, just as suddenly, they pick up again, spinning us around in quick steps. I can barely keep up.
“No one blames a four-year-old. But fourteen … they wonder why you didn’t see the signs. How could you not have known there was something wrong, especially since I’d been on her bipolar roller coaster my entire life? I should’ve known when she slipped into her dark place. It’s been eating me alive for years, and now … I’m hollowed out.”
I search the dark depths of his eyes, the same near-black shade as mine. “It’s not your fault.”
A ghost of a smile passes over his lips. “Neither is your grandmother’s death.”
I swallow hard.
“I chose to lie. And you created curses to explain away the evil. Because if it’s out of our control, something we’re cursed with, then it’s not really our fault. You chose not to tell the truth, so then you cursed yourself with Honesty, never to lie again.”
“I didn’t …” But I can’t finish the sentence. Because I’ve been lying to myself for years in the form of silence. Avoiding the truth doesn’t make it go away.
“We’re all cursed, Lana. We’re human.”
“Uh, can I cut in?”
Brendan and I break our intense connection to find Grant beside us. We’re not moving. I don’t know when we stopped dancing. We’ve been staring at each other, searching the other’s eyes for hints of the truth that transformed us into the broken souls we are.
“Yeah,” Brendan says, dropping his hands like I’m fire and striding to the mocktail bar.
“What was that about?” Grant asks, wrapping me in his arms.