The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,18
you tomorrow if I can!” I yell as I disappear through the hedges.
I find my phone in the crevice of the couch in the Quiet Room. It doesn’t look like anyone has checked on me.
I jump and almost drop it when it begins vibrating. With a hand over my frantically beating heart, I place a thumb on the screen, as required, and then slump onto the couch.
A message appears on the screen: Your restrictions have been lifted. However, you are still confined to campus for two more weeks.
Relief washes over me. I never took my room confinement into consideration when I visited Ashton or met with Brendan this morning. Thankfully, it doesn’t matter.
The peace I’m experiencing goes beyond being allowed to leave my room.
I don’t know how or if Grant is coping with everything I dumped on him, but I feel … lighter. The weight of the secrets isn’t pressing on me like before. I can breathe easier. Whenever I’ve confided in someone in the past, I’ve been overcome with regret or panic that I screwed up pretty much as soon as I’ve said it. Waiting to be burned. And I usually am.
But this isn’t the same.
Confessing … trusting Grant feels good. Like I entrusted him with a piece of my vulnerability, believing he’ll keep it safe. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what love is. But I can’t let myself contemplate it too much because then I will start freaking out.
Instead, I run up the stairs and return to Ashton’s room. When I knock, Sophia answers, taking me by surprise.
“Uh, hi,” I say.
She nods imperceptibly and shifts her focus to avoid looking at me when she walks past, her mouth drawn.
I watch her leave before stepping inside. What is she doing here?
Ashton is awake, propped up on her couch with a white fur blanket tucked around her. She looks pale, making the smeared mascara around her blue eyes that much more devastating. She smiles weakly when I enter.
“How are you?” she asks in a rasp.
“Woke up with a headache and felt out of it for a while, but I’m okay. I only had a little to drink last night.” I sit at her feet, pulling them onto my lap. She winces. “Sorry. Where are you hurt?”
“Everywhere.” She shifts uncomfortably. “But I’m afraid to look.”
I grimace. “Do you know how you ended up on the cliff?”
She shakes her head, staring down at the blanket. “I don’t remember anything.” She plucks at the fur strands, unwilling to look at me. “You don’t think Sawyer did this, do you?”
“No,” I answer automatically. Her eyes connect with mine in bewilderment. “He was as bad as you. Grant’s checking on him. I don’t know who did this. I was kind of hoping you did. Do you remember the guy in the woods?”
Her eyes glisten with tears before they shift down again. She shakes her head. “I hate not remembering. Not knowing.” Her hand wraps around the fabric and squeezes in visible anger. “I hate whoever did this.” A tear drops.
“Me too,” I say quietly, trying to soothe her. “Can I get you anything?”
“No,” she whispers, sinking down further like she’s trying to disappear. “I think I’m going to sleep some more.”
“Want me to stay?”
She shakes her head. “I need to be alone right now.”
I stand and walk to the door, hesitating before opening it. “It’s okay to be angry, Ashton. I am. I’m so angry this happened. But … I’m also glad he didn’t hurt you.”
She doesn’t respond, instead rolls over and dissolves into the blanket. I hear her say just as I’m closing the door behind me, “This time.”
I wanted that love for my own. It consumed me. I searched, but found only empty arms.
Ashton stays in her room the next day too. She doesn’t answer when I knock. I try texting and calling—after asking Dr. Kendall to approve Ashton as one of my contacts. Queen Warden was at some spa retreat and probably would’ve approved anyone to get me off the phone with her. I should’ve taken advantage, but my priority was Ashton.
“Have you seen Ashton today?” I ask Sophia when I sit down next to her at dinner. I would ask Brendan, but I can’t stand to look at him right now, forget about talk to him. And I think he knows it because he’s been MIA too.
“No,” Sophia says, shifting her mashed potatoes around on her plate.