The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,29

from the chaotic thoughts. Shutting out the anger and confusion. By the time I reach my room, I can’t feel a thing. And my thoughts are a low buzz in my head.

Sophia disappeared like a whisper somewhere along the way. I don’t have to ask her not to say anything. That’s pretty obvious.

I have questions for her. So many questions. But not tonight.

I mindlessly wash my face and brush my teeth and then dress in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before collapsing onto the bed. I stare motionless at the starlit ceiling, awaiting my nightly check-in before allowing myself to fall asleep. Assuming I can sleep.

My attention drifts to the wall and the fireflies dancing across it.

I pick up my Blackwood phone and text Grant. I need you.

He responds immediately, I’m here.

Can you come here in the morning?

How’s 10am?

Thank you.

I’m always here, Lana.

I smile weakly. Do me a favor?

Anything.

Look up Morgan Wolfe? See if anything comes up in NYC around two years ago?

Three dots blink on my screen as he types his response. I’m prepared for his questions. But none come.

Instead, my phone buzzes in my hand, demanding a thumbprint.

I stare at the dark screen, focused on the lens at the top and silently speak to him, If you can see me, Brendan, I will find out what you’re hiding.

I plug the phone in the charger and drop it in the drawer of the nightstand. Inside is Joey’s phone. I stare at it, trying to decide what to do. I don’t want to touch it—ever. But if I throw it away, Brendan will know. And I don’t want him to suspect I’m onto him. Not yet.

I roll over and become mesmerized by the flickering fireflies, my mind still. But my heart is beating so hard it hurts.

A rattling wakes me. I don’t remember falling asleep, but it feels like it was only a few minutes ago.

I fumble with the drawer and pull out my phone.

“Hope you’re awake. Mack’s waiting for us.”

“Do I look awake?” I grumble, throwing the phone on my bed. Reluctantly, I push off my covers and sit up, my lids still half-closed. I blink awake when I remember the photo of Mr. Garner and Parker and rush to get dressed, intrigue shaking off the dregs of sleep.

I’m thoroughly exhausted, beyond sleep deprivation, from sparring with Mack when I find Mr. Garner waiting in the lobby to walk me back. Our return is tensely quiet. He keeps glancing over at me like he wants to ask me a question but is waiting for me to begin.

I’m hesitant to question him. I hope he doesn’t lie to me. I really want—no, I need Mr. Garner to be one of the good guys.

When I feel like I’m about to burst from holding it in, I ask, “Remember the thing that night in Sherling we were never supposed to be at?”

“Vaguely.” His eyes scrunch warily. “Why?”

“How’d you get in?” I watch him carefully.

“I told you, I grew up with most of the people there. I went with a group of friends.” He clears his throat uncomfortably.

My chest tightens as I fight to keep from reacting. He’s lying.

Mr. Garner smiles awkwardly. The question that he hasn’t asked still dances in his eyes. But he breaks our connection without asking it.

“I won’t be here this weekend, so you’re free to go—or not go—to the gym on your own. But I’ll be waking you first thing on Monday, so you can not hate me again then.”

“Where are you going?” I ask, hoping that I really don’t hate him when this is all over with.

“Family thing,” he responds evasively.

“Back in Oaklawn?” I can’t look at him. If he lies to me again, I might never forgive him.

“New York actually,” he answers stiffly. “My mother lives there.”

“Well … have a good weekend in New York,” I tell him flatly before walking toward the rose trellis.

“Lana.”

I turn back.

“Be good this weekend. Please.”

My mouth quirks. “What could possibly happen? I’m stuck in the middle of fricken nowhere.”

“Trapped with your chaos,” he reminds me. “Be careful.”

I watch him walk away. Why? What do you know that I don’t, Isaac?

“Lana, did you hear the question?”

“Huh?”

Everything around me comes back into focus. Including Grant, who is sitting next to me on the leather couch in the Quiet Room. We agreed to give studying another try … away from the library. I have my legs resting on his lap with a notebook spread open in front of me. I haven’t