Here Lies a Saint (Here Lies #2) - C.L. Matthews Page 0,57
sorry,” he offers, shutting down my mind with two simple words.
“Excuse me?”
He looks at me, his eyes telling me he’s vulnerable. “Saying that shit about Cassidy... I went too far.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I don’t allow myself to relax for him. He doesn’t deserve my kindness.
He lifts his hands again as if to remedy the need to touch me, but my single glare has him dropping them. “I’m sorry. Cassidy was my friend before...”
Shock hits me square in the chest. Cassidy never mentioned him once. “I don’t believe you.” Cassidy might have hidden a lot from me, but I knew his friends, and Jordan wasn’t one of them.
“We had rules,” he explains as if he knows where my head is. “He and I played rugby together.”
“I can’t recall seeing you once on the field.”
He cringes a bit before peering at me with a sheepish expression. “I wasn’t in the games much, but when I was, it wasn’t like I was Lux or Cass. I’d been second string. There but not important enough to play.”
“How did you know him?”
His face falls a bit. “My job was to watch him.”
Thickness becomes all my throat feels, and the inability to breathe hurts. “D-did y-you...” I attempt to ask, knowing the words won’t form.
“Get him killed?” he offers, his face stony but not impenetrable. “No, Colt. I’d finally come around to what he wanted. Finally, I planned on helping him. Then that night... Fuck.”
“This is cute.”
The voice sends tendrils of disgust through me. I shudder, feeling my body break out in chills.
Turning around, I spot Jordan’s father, Elijah.
He glowers at the both of us. “Dinner is about to start. I don’t need to remind you what disobedience offers.”
He isn’t speaking to me with those words. I’s Jordan he’s threatening. When Jordan flinches, I know he’s used to what those words mean.
Grabbing Jordan by the arm and smiling at Elijah, I start leading him away. “Oh my gosh!” I feign excitement. “Don’t want to miss dinner with the fam, Jordy.” Neither smile, but I continue. “Let’s get a seat!”
Without another word or backward glance, I haul Jordan with me and toward the dining room.
As soon as we enter the room, I notice how different I look compared to all the families. When I arrived with Lux, he forced me to shower and clean up. If not, I’d look like a bigger mess than I already do, while everyone else is all prim and proper.
Then I notice the spot where I’ll be sitting, and my discomfort rises once again.
“You shouldn’t play around with my father,” Jordan explains when I drop his arm.
I twist to see his face, and stiffness is all that meets me.
“Be quiet during dinner,” he adds.
Listening to others has never been my strongest trait, but I nod to ease his mind.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Colt
“This is how it’s going to go,” Elijah starts, adjusting his wine-red tie.
The entire room silences for him as if he’s always held this power to quiet their every word. He stands at the head of the table, all families present sitting, waiting for his word. He’s taller than I remembered from earlier, muscular and strong too. His dead-set expression commands every gaze in the room.
My stomach churns as he peers at everyone in the room, finally landing on me. The sick gleam flickering in his false cordial pretense has me shivering in discomfort. I shift, feeling the chair cushion move while I attempt to not feel like the freak at a circus, waiting for the pointing fingers and atrocious laughter.
“Once dinner ends, we’ll be traveling to the Edgington Estates. This is our annual event. Dinner, celebration, and then room and board for our Emeralds.”
Everyone nods enthusiastically, not showing a sign of guilt for putting their children through the hell that’s their precious society. Do they not realize what they do to us? What their greed and influence force us to conform to?
“Furthermore, we expect all families to attend our annual Christmas event, especially if we’re to plan his upcoming wedding.”
The breath lingering in my lungs deflates at the reminder that these boys aren’t and never will be mine. He’s to be married to someone who doesn’t love him, to experience her and not me any longer.
The sinking feeling overwhelms me, clawing at my chest with each foot beneath the murky water. It’s not real, but the suffocation feels no less realistic than the sadness inside me.
Everyone glances around for someone to say something, to acknowledge the fact that a teenager is getting