Page 59 of The Truths We Burn

But I’m not giving Easton that. He’s getting ready to take everything I am; I won’t give him the pleasure of watching me break any more than I already have.

Had I really thought I could break away from all this? Leave and actually end up with Rook? Had I really allowed love to make me that naive all over again?

“You know what makes me sick?” He stands up from the floor and dusts his pants off.“Knowing you let that fucking lowlife touch you. It makes you look pathetic. You should be thankful that I’m still agreeing to this marriage with you. When I could just as easily take Ro—”

“Don’t you dare, you prick,” I warn him, matching his stance. It’s funny how even though he’s taller, his little-dick syndrome makes it feel like I’m talking down to him.“We had a deal, and I held up my end of it.”

A few days after the rave party, Easton had stolen my phone. Imagine me finding out the psycho had snuck into my house while I was sleeping to do it. According to him, he was being a considerate boyfriend and taking action.

It wasn’t hard for him to find the messages between me and Rook or figure out who they were from.

When he confronted me about it, I thought,how perfect. Isn’t that stupid? I thought this meant I could tell him to fuck off sooner than I’d expected. That Rook and I would be together publicly before graduation.

I ran before I could walk. I got overly excited about the time ahead instead of focusing on what stood in front of us.

They couldn’t force me or Rose to do this. It’s illegal, and we’re already eighteen. We could leave and never look back. Silas would do it for her in a heartbeat, and I’d placed my trust completely in Rook.

That he would be there. That when I told him, he’d refuse to let me. He’d fight for me.

Easton nods, rubbing his hand on his chin as he looks around. “I just have to know; did you really think you could get away with it? That I wouldn’t find out you were fucking him?”

“You found out ’cause you’re crazy and stole my phone.” I push past him, moving to my disaster of a room, searching through the floor of clothes for one thing in particular. “Don’t give yourself the credit of figuring it out on your own. You’re not that smart.”

I want to leave. I want this conversation to be over so I can pack a bag and head to the lake house. Stay there a few days and pretend everything is okay.

If I tried hard enough, I could close my eyes, sink deeper into his hoodie, and it would feel like he was there.

I just—I just.

I wish I knew the last time touching him was the last time.

That the Monday after the rave party when he’d shoved me inside the back of my car in the school parking lot was the last time I would feel him against me. His hips between my legs, the smoke from his blunt, and our heavy breathing fogging up the windows.

I grab at my heart, fisting my hand in my shirt, trying to comfort the organ inside. The water had already been up to my chest, waiting hungrily for the dam to break so that it could sink me entirely. I’d been fighting all day, fighting to keep my head above the waves, but I’m so tired of fighting.

The pain of remembering was the dam, and it had just broken.

I can still feel his fingers running along my collarbone as his ear rested on my chest. His long hair tickled me, but I didn’t mind. I liked it, how warm he felt pressed into me, even though he was all sticky from the sweat we’d both produced.

“What is this scar from?” His hazy tone rubbed against my skin like velvet, the pads of his fingers brushing the raised skin.

I told him the story of me falling off a merry-go-round as a kid and how after, my mom stopped letting me play on the playground. She was afraid I’d cause permanent damage to my face, and God forbid you look anything less than perfect.

“Rosie thinks it’ll tell me who my soul mate is,” I finished. “I think she just tells me that to make me feel better about it.”

“Why does she think that?”

“Silas has a scar on his pinky finger in the exact same place her birthmark is. Soul marks. That’s what she calls them.” My hands raked through his hair, twirling a few pieces, and I pressed my nails into his scalp, knowing how much he loved it.

He moved suddenly, leaning back a bit so there was some space between us. With deliberate movements, he flipped the burning end of the blunt towards him, lifting it to my mouth so I could inhale.

I filled my lungs, and when I was finished, he drove the cherry into his skin. The sizzling of skin made my spine rattle. Even though I was high, I knew what he did was real.

Jesus, he didn’t even flinch. He barely moved.

My eyes widened briefly. “What the fuck are you doing?” I cursed, snatching his wrist to tug the heat away from his body, in shock that one person could handle so much pain so abruptly. He didn’t even think about it; he just did it.

A nasty, crimson burn was left behind, just above his collarbone. The angry mark was dusted with ashes from the smoke, and I knew it had to hurt, but he gave me no reaction.