Chapter 16: The Broken Note: Chapter 16

Mom didn’t come home all night.

She must have taken enough cash to wild out for a few days. Or maybe she’s trying to avoid me.

The house is eerily silent when I shower and get ready for school. I’m nervous about leaving Vi here alone. It’s been a while since I’ve experienced mom on drugs.

On a good day, mom is… unpredictable.

On a bad one…

Hiding mom’s money bag will definitely piss her off. If mom comes back to find the cash gone, there’s no telling what she’ll do to herself.

To the house.

To my sister.

She’s never hurt Vi before, but now that my sister is thirteen going on thirty, things might be different. Mom is extra sensitive when she’s using. If Vi gets mouthy while mom’s in a bad state…

I shudder.

Hoping to ease my mind, I shuffle to my sister’s bedroom door and peek inside. Viola is sprawled on the bed, one foot hanging over the edge and an arm flung over the headboard.

I should wake her, but it’s been a hard few days. Besides, it’s Friday. No one wants to be up this early right before the weekend.

Tiptoeing out, I grab my purse and catch the bus to the north side.

Redwood Prep stands before me in all its ruthless glory. Exposed brick. Trailing ivy. Valiant posts. The building is as elite as the children who walk through the doors.

But unlike the vapid students so easily shaken by scandal and treachery, Redwood Prep stands firm. Just a few days ago, a fire boiled in its belly, but you wouldn’t know by looking at it.

This place isn’t easily conquered. How do I find the secrets buried inside? Where do I even start looking?

My heart is hammering.

My palms feel sweaty.

With trembling fingers, I dig out my headphones and pop them into my ears. Brahms’

tickles my eardrums and settles my nerves I close my eyes, taking in deep breaths.

Ten hours.

Just ten hours to go.

Once the last bell rings this evening, I’ll have the entire weekend away from Redwood Prep. To clear my head. To form a plan. To remind myself that joining hands with Jarod Cross is what I should—no, what I to do. That’s the only way to fulfil Jinx’s command.

It doesn’t matter that I have two people holding me by the throat.

It doesn’t matter that mom is still out there, doing who knows what.

I’ll figure this all out.

As long as I don’t think too hard about the tangled mess that is my life, I can keep moving forward.

Right?

After a few moments, I force myself to step inside the dark building. My shoes thunder in the silence. Shadows flicker in and out. Lockers glint like sharp teeth.

I hear a noise and whirl around, my heart in my throat.

No one’s there.

Serena did her work service with me early in the morning. I got used to having her around. Ever since she left, I’ve been a little freaked out.

What secrets was Jinx referring to? Why the hell does she have to be so vague?

In the distance, a door creaks open and shut.

I tear out one of my headphones, every nerve on high alert. My eyes jump around the dark hallway.

Suddenly, a soft yellow light blasts on.

I swerve around and find Dutch leaning against one of the lockers. My heartbeat increases. If I were playing a piano piece, I would have to play Faster and faster.

He’s standing in the glare like he’s about to go on stage and perform in front of screaming fans. Golden light falls against his square jaw. Sharp enough to kill. The villain turned hero. The boy girls know, deep down, they should stay away from but find themselves helplessly drawn to.

His white-button down and tan trousers are staple elements of the Redwood Prep uniform, but they look elevated on him. Like he just tore them off a model in Paris and is leisurely wearing it now.

Dutch moves toward me. Each step making me quiver deep in my bones. A panther on the move. The picture of destruction with his blonde hair, amber eyes and inked body.

“What are you doing here?” I mutter.

“I’m here to oversee your work service.” He bends down so his face is right on top of mine. “I’m in charge of you, remember?”

His amused tone makes me bristle. Of course he’s here to torture me. Why did I feel a glimmer of excitement at the sight of him? Why did I think this was anything other than a ploy to make me miserable?

“Start down there, Brahms.” Dutch juts his chin toward a classroom at the end of the hallway.

“I’ll start where I want to,” I snap.

Fuming, I stomp away. But when I advance on the door to my right, Dutch grabs my hand and drags me to him. In a second, he’s drawing my waist to his body and lowering his face to mine.

Our noses brush.

His voice whispers over me like a caress. “Why does everything have to be a fight with you, Cadey?”

“I thought you liked my fight?” I snarl.

“I do,” he purrs, looking at me with eyes that say he would pin me against a locker and show me how much. “I really do.”

Dutch’s mouth drops closer, a burning flame that sears through me, making me tremble with desperate, pulsing need.

It’s agony, how much I want him.

Agony how much I wish I didn’t.

It makes me wonder whether I deserve all the bad things that have happened to me. If I’m drawn to someone as ruthless, evil and dark as Dutch, doesn’t that mean I’m a monster too?

He tortured me for weeks and yet I can’t keep my hands off him.

I him.

I’m deranged.

A masochist. Someone who enjoys their own pain. Who consumes their own poison.

Dutch stops an inch away from my mouth. Our heavy breaths mingle, twining between our still open lips. I part my mouth further. Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. It’s like he’s breathing more of his darkness into me. And I’m taking it all in. Leaving no crumbs.

“Be a good girl, Cadey. There are cameras.” His eyes inch over my blouse. “Unless you don’t mind the security guards watching…”

My senses return just in time.

I shove him away and he releases me.

Face ablaze, I storm to the classroom he indicated and shove it open, only to stop short when I see what’s inside.

My jaw drops.

There are flowers scattered everywhere. A table set with a white cloth. Candles lit. Breakfast laid out.

A feast.

A quiet breath gets caught in my throat.

I blink and blink, but the scene before me doesn’t change.

“This way,” Dutch says, putting his hands on my waist and nudging me forward.

A blazing fire tears through me when his fingers settle on my side. It feels amazing when he touches me. Scarily so. I swat his hand down to hide my reaction. He smirks as if he knows he makes me nervous. As if all this fire and tension doesn’t scare him as much as it scares me.

Swallowing hard, I remain standing after Dutch pulls out a chair for me.

“What is this?”

“Breakfast,” he says. As if it’s obvious. As if I’m the weird one for wondering why a classroom suddenly looks like a date.

Caught off-guard, I wrestle to keep my anger in the forefront. It’s difficult though. My heart is melting and my knees are getting weak.

“I don’t have time to play games with you, Dutch. I have work to do.” I turn away and he snatches my hand.

Bringing me back to the table, Dutch says simply, “Martina.”

The door creaks. A stocky woman, flanked by two other middle-aged ladies, step into my line of sight.

“I’ll sort out Cadey’s work service with Principle Harris later,” he says calmly. “For today, can you…”

“Of course.” Martina smiles and winks at me. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

I grip the back of my chair, feeling awful. “No, I can’t let you—it’s job. I’ll clean.”

“You’re fine, señorita.”

“Let me at least help.”

“If you help us, we don’t get paid,” she explains with a frown.

“But—”

“Sit, Cadey,” Dutch growls.

My nostrils flare. I whirl on him. “What is with you?”

The door clicks shut as Martina and her friends disappear.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Dutch asks calmly, pouring me a glass of orange juice.

My chest feels stuffy. It’s like a ball of sharp needles has been set loose inside me. Every time it bounces against my ribs, against my heart, it punctures something important.

“I asked my friend, Chef Kraus, to cater. He doesn’t usually make breakfast, but my mother worked with him before he got his television show and—”

“I don’t want your stupid pancakes.” I swat the flat, round pastry to the floor.

Dutch’s eyes follow the descent, stopping at where the pancake sticks to the ground.

My chest is heaving.

Tears are stinging my eyes.

Slowly, his gaze returns to me. It’s sharp. Heated.

“Screw you!” I scream. “Screw you, Dutch!”

His eyes narrow.

“Do you have any idea what I’m going through right now!” I shriek. “Do you have any—” Anger makes me sputter and claw at my throat just to spit the words out. “I already have enough on my plate without you dragging your housekeeper here and wasting her time mine! Why should she suffer because of me? It’s my job to clean the classrooms. I will clean. Who cares if I starve in the morning? I will handle myself. I don’t need you to feed me. I don’t need you to throw your wealth in my face. I don’t care about your pancakes or your stupid private chef!”

Dutch rises. The chair scrapes back, making a loud sound.

He stares at me with dark eyes. Viper eyes. Dark and unblinking.

But I’m too frazzled to care.

“You already won!” I yell, flinging my arms. “You ran me out of Redwood. I came back. You demanded my virginity as a price. I gave you that too even though I said I wouldn’t! I’m the fool. I’m the loser! What more do you want from me! What more are you going to take from…”

He moves fast. His arms close around my shoulders and he pulls me in for a hug.

“Let me go!” I struggle.

He pulls me deeper into his embrace. His chest is warm. His heart is beating, strong and sure, against my ears.

I lose my battle against the tears when his big hand cups the back of my head and smooths over my hair. When was the last time someone gave me comfort? Why am I so broken that even this beast of a prince can soothe me?

Dutch says nothing, and I’m glad because I’m already embarrassed beyond belief. The tears aren’t stopping. Why won’t they stop?

I’m strong.

I practically raised my little sister and myself.

I kept food on the table. I paid the light bills. After Rick made it clear that we were a burden to him, I didn’t beg him for a cent more.

I defeated Christa and banished her from Redwood.

I kept it together when my mom came back from the dead.

People like me don’t breakdown. We don’t have the privilege of worrying about tears and feelings and emotions.

So why am I crying? Why does my chest hurt? Why does it feel like my heart’s being shattered when I’m fine? I’m perfectly, totally fine.

I feel myself being lifted and pry my swelling eyes apart to see Dutch raising me up. He cradles me to his chest the way he did that night when we were searching for my sister.

I quickly wrap my arms around his neck so I don’t fall.

Without a word, Dutch carries me to the practice room.

The light beeps when he fishes out his card with one hand and slaps it against the scanner.

“What are you doing?” My voice is scratchy. It sounds like I have a cold, but it’s just that my nose is plugged. “Dutch…”

His fingers tighten on me, but he doesn’t answer my question.

Dutch kicks the door shut with his foot and marches over to the sofa where we made out yesterday. I stiffen, wondering if he’s going to try and kiss me.

But he doesn’t.

He sits down with me in his lap.

When I struggle to ease out of his grip, he frowns. “Five minutes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes. Don’t think about anything. You’re safe here. Nothing will touch you. No one will hurt you. You don’t have any responsibilities to anyone. Not for the next five minutes.”

The tears crop in my eyes again. What kind of crazy utopia is that? No responsibilities? No pressure? No fear?

Dutch moves his hand over my face. With his thumb and pointer finger, he gently closes my eyelids.

“Five minutes, Cadey.” His soft voice flutters my hair. I feel him place a kiss to my temple. His lips nuzzle my ear next. “Starting now.”