I think that was the first time I’d ever heard Story speak. She had always been quiet as a mouse when attending to me. So of course, like every other person in my goddamn life, she was using her voice to leave me.
Gray grinned and turned away, but I grabbed his bicep, pulling him back to me. He hadn’t been expecting that. As much as a prick as Gray was, I rarely stood up to him. He knew just the right buttons to press to piss me off without taking it too far.
“I
think it fucking is, Gray.” I jabbed his chest. “You can’t just take, take, and take. You can’t just take pieces of me that don’t belong to you.”
I was tearing apart. I never stopped.
Why had Theo left me? Why? Why would he be so vicious? It didn’t make sense. The little hope I had that my Theo might still be out there somewhere was proving so much more eviscerating. It cut and it cut and I bled.
I shoved Gray with both hands. “You can’t rip parts of me out, act like you’ll be there to put them together, then fucking leave without warning. You can’t keep doing that. Why do I keep letting you?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been crying until I couldn’t see anymore. The hallway was a blurry, watery mess, like when it rained so hard the windows slammed with anger.
I passed a hand to my aching head. My lip was wet and warm—my nose must have been running.
Gray blinked, then shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think that was meant for me.”
He waved a hand over his shoulder, motioning for Story to follow. She threw me a concerned glance, before looking at the floor and following Gray.
I fell to my knees.
Thirty-One
THEO
Abigail hadn’t left Crowne Hall in over a week. I couldn’t see what was going on inside, but I got snippets of information from certain servants. She had the guard, and Ned hadn’t been allowed inside Crowne Hall. Tansy was keeping up her end of the deal.
I kept hoping I could catch a glimpse of her.
“Welcome to Crowne Drive-In Diner. We hope you have a royally pleasant day. Can I take your order?” a scratchy voice said through the speaker.
I ordered a double cheeseburger with extra special sauce, fried pickles, and a drink. When the kid came out to hand me my meal, I told him I wanted him to deliver it.
“This is a drive-in diner,” the teenage boy said. “We don’t do delivery.”
I pulled out a wad of cash, counting as much as it would take to bribe him. His lips parted when he took the thousand dollars. When I told him where to take it, he stopped looking at the cash, raising both brows.
“Are you sure? It might not get through—”
“Go to the servant entrance and use this code.”
It was a lot of money for an uncertainty. I still wasn’t sure Abigail ate the last meal I sent her, but it was better than nothing. Every report I’d received from inside said she wasn’t attending meals.
I didn’t stop moving after Crowne Drive-In Diner. I hadn’t stopped since the ball. If I even so much as slowed down, I’d feel it all. Feel the poison still inside me from the thing I’d done. It was crippling.
The ugly fucking truth is all the while I’ve been trying to break Abigail, I’ve been the broken one. I love Abigail. I love her without walls and reason. I will always fucking love her. I’m the poster boy for unrequited love, and I have been since the first day I saw Abigail Crowne.
She abandoned me like everyone else, and the first chance I got to come back to her, I took. Because with her, the knife is in me, and I’m gutted, but without her, I’m bleeding.
There’d been a time when I had dreams, and I’d wanted to help kids like me. Now? The only reason I hadn’t completely faded away was the urge to keep moving for Abigail, to fix what I’d broken.
At least I could help make Abigail’s dream come true. Her dream college was one of the few who accepted fall applications late into August. Maybe that was fate. She was so fucking talented, and she deserved to follow her dreams.
I dropped off the application in the post, then met my next stop under the pier. He leaned against the wood column, on his phone, a hat shadowing his face, white designer sneakers digging into the sand.
He looked up, spotting me.