Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“So—” Georgia says, and I recognize her tone. We always know what the other is thinking, like best friends should. “This thing with Luke. Not looking so fake anymore.” I cringe. I should have known she wasn’t going to let me get away with acting as though it was.
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how? Complicated like you’re actually into him, or complicated like you don’t know if you can trust him?”
I kick a loose rock and watch it roll away. “Both. He was such a dick to me at first.” I shake my head. “Now he’s different. Or maybe I just want to see something that isn’t really there.” I think that’s my biggest fear. That I’m reading Luke wrong and it could blow up in my face at the end. I’m already in way deeper than I’ll even admit to myself.
“Madeline.” Georgia stops and turns to face me.
“And you don’t like him. Remember? He’s been an asshole to you for years.” Georgia’s expression softens.
“He’s only an asshole in passing, and I didn’t like him before, but I see a different side of him when he’s with you.” There’s no hope for me now, if he’s won Georgia over.
“Doesn’t make it okay.”
“Maybe not, but he treated everyone the same way. If you stayed out of his way, you were fine. Besides—” She looks around. “I think some messed-up things happened at home before his dad died.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask. This is the first time I’m really hearing about his past when it comes to his family. I know the basics, that his brother is his guardian, but I figured he was probably in the same situation as mine. Dead dad and all that.
“I mean, people aren’t just assholes for no reason. There’s a reason he acts the way he does. Seeing this other side of him makes that clearer.”
“Right,” I agree. “We all have our shit.”
Georgia nods. “If you like him, I’m fine with it. If he turns out to be a psycho asshole, you’ll dump his ass.” She’s right. “He broke into an office for you. He punched someone. Went to a crime scene to stoke your curiosity,” she points out. “He’s either totally unhinged or totally into you. Maybe both.” I snort a laugh.
Before I can answer, voices drift from the groups of students ahead. I catch pieces: “...police were at the rink...” “...affair with a student, I heard...” “...no, it was an accident; she fell through the ice...”
Georgia raises an eyebrow, and we both realize the news about Murphy being missing has spread to the students. “Here come the theories.”
We walk closer, listening. A girl with too much eyeliner is holding court. “...Definitely a secret love child. Coach Murphy had a baby with the hockey coach, and he killed her to hide it.”
“That’s...” Georgia starts.
“Completely insane,” I finish.
Another voice, earnest and wrong: “My roommate’s cousin said it was a drug deal. Steroids. All the coaches are on steroids and make the athletes take them.”
We walk past, and Georgia presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Steroids,” she whispers. “Of course.” Murphy is the Ice Crew coach; we don’t take steroids. It’s so ridiculous you can’t help but laugh.
“At least they’re creative,” I mutter.
Then I see him. Luke is leaning against the brick wall outside the science building, arms crossed against his broad chest, watching for me. When our eyes meet, something shifts in his expression—possession, relief, or hunger. He pushes off the wall and closes the distance in three strides.
“Hey,” he says, and his hand finds my hip, pulling me close like it’s second nature. Like I belong there.
He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just dips his head and catches my mouth with his.
He kisses me like he’s been thinking about it all morning, all night, like he can’t help himself.
When he pulls back, his thumb traces the edge of my jaw, and he smiles, small and private, even with students passing all around us. This feels so real.
Georgia clears her throat. “I’ll just... go ahead. I’ll save you a seat.”
She disappears into the building. Luke doesn’t notice, his focus entirely on me. His thumb traces the edge of my jacket, back and forth.
“I found something.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a thin folder. “Emily P., former student. Graduated a few years ago.”
I take it and flip it open. Photo, transcript, address. “How did you—”
“Don’t ask.” His jaw tightens. “She’s in Boston now, at art school. And Madeline...” He leans in, lowering his voice. “She filed a complaint against Murphy last year but withdrew it three days later.”
The air leaves my lungs. “She reported her.”
“And took it back,” Luke says, his eyes dark and serious. “We should talk to her before whoever killed Murphy realizes we know about the pattern.”
“What if that’s the end of it?” I keep my voice low. “If someone wanted revenge and they killed her. So it’s over.”