The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,32

tangled, I can’t make sense of any of it.

“That’s … everything,” I say, releasing a huge exhale. It’s like I can finally breathe for the first time in forever.

Grant doesn’t speak for a full minute. He looks pensive and a bit tattered around the edges. He stands with his back to me, gripping his head like it’s about to explode. His silence makes my chest hurt, and I wonder if this is it. His limit.

Maybe there wasn’t enough room to accept this much truth. And now I’ve crushed him under the weight of it.

When he finally speaks, the first thing he says is, “Vic Thorne?”

“You know him?” I ask cautiously.

Grant turns toward me, his face smooth, eyes resolute. “Not well. I know of him. Printz-Lee’s not that big, but we’ve never really talked. He’s always been withdrawn. I thought it was because of his mom. Maybe losing her sent him over the edge?”

“Maybe.”

I’ve never considered why Vic is who he is. I don’t care. Because regardless of how miserable his life is, he’s always had a choice whether to be an asshole or not. I’ve known plenty of people who were dealt shitty lives, and they aren’t holding up convenience stores or shoving girls down stairs.

I stand to join him when it’s apparent that there are too many thoughts and emotions coursing through him to allow him to sit. He opens his arms as an invitation, which I gratefully accept, welcoming the warmth of his embrace.

“So you’re trying to decide if you should tell Ashton about Morgan? Confront Brendan about what you found in his room? And tell the police about Vic? While trying to figure out who’s sending you these messages and pictures and what they have to do with your mother, father and potentially Brendan’s mother’s suicide … that’s if she’s really dead?”

“That’s pretty much it.” I press my face into his chest. “I have no idea what to do.”

“Yeah.” Grant laughs humorlessly. “It’s a lot.” He stares over my head at the water, lost in thought. “I can’t believe you’ve had to go through this all by yourself.” His focus shifts to me. I tilt my head to take him in. “You’re incredible, Lana. And I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

My cheeks grow warm. “I don’t think I had a choice.”

“You always have a choice.” He leans down and kisses me gently, spreading the heat throughout my body. “I need to process all of this, okay? Figure out how to help you.”

I nod in understanding. “We should probably go back. I have no idea what time it is, and I can’t be late for this test. Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, uh, no.” Grant grimaces, setting a fist to his forehead. “There’s a golf tournament this weekend at the club. I have to work doubles both tomorrow and Sunday. I remember Cary saying he begged Blackwood to let you work, but they wouldn’t budge. Now I kinda get why they have a reputation for being so controlling. I always thought it was to protect their high-profile students, but apparently, it goes beyond that.” He climbs back onto the lawn and helps me up too before walking toward the dorm with his hand engulfing mine. “But I’ll call you as soon as I get off each night. And we’ll figure this out, together, next week.”

I don’t even cringe when he says together. Maybe it’s time I get over it.

I wanted to believe the demon’s lies. They were more powerful than your truths.

It’s difficult to get into trouble when no one’s around.

Ashton, Brendan and Grant are working the golf tournament. Lance is spending the weekend at the lake house. And Sophia went home for the weekend.

Brendan … I avoid when he is on campus. But who knows what he sees from his monitor-infested perch. He doesn’t make one of his spontaneous appearances in my room either. I pick up my Blackwood phone, examining it. I wonder if he knows I suspect. I mean, I’ve always suspected him and never been shy about telling him. But now that I’ve seen what he’s capable of … I drop the phone into my bag, not wanting to touch it. My spine erupts with shivers.

Ashton invites me to her room after her shift on Saturday night. We listen to music and make a mess of her clothes, dressing ridiculously and dancing around to songs we shout to at the top of our lungs. Laughing feels good. Even better than screaming. And the