Chris moved forward, to hold her, to stop her, to save her.
She jerked back from him. “Don’t you see? I kept letting them do it, and when I wanted them to stop, it was just too late. They were all touching me, and I just couldn’t make them stop, but I’d started—”
“Jesus, Becca.” Chris grabbed her shoulders. “It was not your fault. Do you understand me? This was not. Your. Fault.”
She wasn’t even looking at him. “I don’t even think they knew I was fighting them. There were just so many. I think I was hyperventilating. But Drew put his hands down my pants, and I threw up when he—when he touched me.” She gave a choked sob. “I guess that killed the mood because they threw me out of the party.”
Chris would kill them. The rain was turning to sleet again.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, pulling her forward. He put his hands on her face, making her look at him. “Becca, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” she said. “Even Quinn doesn’t know all of it. I just—school was starting, and I wanted to pretend it never happened. But then he told everyone—everyone—”
“I know,” he whispered. “Becca.”
She dropped her head against his shoulder. “I’m so stupid, Chris.”
“You’re not stupid. Look at me.” When she didn’t, he pushed her back so he could look at her. The darkness kept most of her face in shadow, but he could feel every drop of water on her skin. “Look at me.”
“I am looking at you,” she whispered.
He put his hands on her face, his thumbs tracing the contours of her cheekbones, feeling raindrops thrill under the weight of his palms. “You’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met,” he said. “I’ve thought that since the night you helped me.”
“Brave,” she scoffed, though there was a sob mixed in there. “I’m hiding in a field—”
“You’re brave. I’m living proof. And you’re smart. That day you showed up in our driveway? Michael handed you that clipboard to screw with you. He knew you had no idea what that stuff was. But you picked it up and ran with it. Do you know I heard him mock Nick about it?” He dropped his voice to a gruff imitation of his oldest brother. “ ‘Girl off the street loaded the truck in half the time you take.’ ”
Her mouth twitched. A smile? She started to push his hands away. “Chris—”
“And you’re strong. Or did someone else break that guy’s nose tonight?”
She went still. “I broke his nose?”
Chris really had no idea. But she was listening, so he went with it. “It should have been his neck.”
Her voice got dark. “It should have been Drew’s neck.”
Chris smiled. There was his girl. “You’re kind,” he said. “You took those notes for me even though I’d been a total prick.”
She made a face. He felt it. “You probably didn’t even read them—”
“I read them. Every word.” Okay, he might have skimmed some of it. It was World History, after all.
But now she was in the present, with him, not trapped in some horrible memory. He had her attention. He loved the feel of her face between his hands, could stand here with her in the rain all night.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “Innocent.”
The word made her flinch. “I’m not—”
“Yes,” he said, feeling anger leak into his voice. “You are. Just because a few idiots treat you like ... like that—doesn’t mean you have any idea what it’s supposed to be like.”
She went still again.
He moved closer, bringing his face down to hers so he could speak low, through the rain. “You’re not stupid, Becca. Not at all.” He paused. “I am.”
“Why?”
He felt her breath on his face when she spoke. Pure torture.
“Because,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I fell for you the night you drove me home. I just didn’t do anything about it. And then you started dating some stupid tool who couldn’t figure out that letting you go with Drew was a bad idea.”
She stood frozen, her eyes barely gleaming in the shadowed field. “Chris—”
“It’s okay,” he said. It was better this way. He and his brothers probably weren’t going to last the week. “I just wanted you to know that you’re better than what you think you are. Don’t let Drew define you, Becca.”
Thunder cracked, wind streaking across the field. She jumped, and he caught her.
“Just a storm,” he said, glad for the distraction. He didn’t want to hear some gentle letdown—and that wasn’t what his little speech had been about anyway.
The raindrops fell heavier. He’d been gone forever. His brothers were going to be flipping out. “We should walk back.”
Silence hung between them for a moment. Then she nodded. “All right.”
But when he turned to walk, she caught his hand and held it.
“If I tell the cops,” she said, “will you go with me?”
“Yeah.” Thunder cracked again, and her grip tightened. He glanced down at her. “You’ll be all right, Becca.”
She nodded.
The rain began to fall harder, heavy drops that rolled down his cheeks. He was so focused on Becca that it took him a minute to realize each drop felt thick with power.
And it wasn’t his power.
Lightning struck near the edge of the field, still a good distance off, but lightning on its own looked for something to strike. Lightning hitting the ground meant someone was giving it direction.
Chris straightened, thinking of Hunter’s trick in the gym. He stared out into the darkness, willing the shadows to reveal more than just an absence of light. He hadn’t wanted to hurry Becca, but now he did. He tugged at her hand. “Speaking of our local narc, just what do you know about him?”
“Hunter?” Her head lifted. She must have heard the note of danger in his voice. “Why? What happened?”
He opened his mouth to respond—but lightning struck the ground ten feet in front of them. Chris had never seen Gabriel call lightning of this force, a solid pillar of electricity bolting into the ground.
Becca had practically attached herself to his arm. Chris spun, looking for an attacker, dragging her with him.
He saw nothing.
Lightning hit closer, about eight feet to their left.
He swore, yanking her with him as he backpedaled across the field.
“Do something!” she cried. “Can’t you build a wall of ice, or—”
“Are you kidding?” he said. “I’m not an X-Man! This is—”
Crack. Lightning bolt, right where they’d been standing. Becca screamed.
He needed Nick, so they could move the storm. Or Gabriel, to harness some of this lightning. The rain refused to listen to him, and by himself, he was at his weakest. Hell, he’d probably helped this guy by warming the rain, changing the air temperature enough to bring the storm this way.
He was going to die—and he’d be taking Becca down with him.
“Run,” he said, trying to pry her hands off his arm. “Run for the school.”
“Are you crazy—”
“Becca, run! He wants me, not you.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and thrust it into her hand. “Text Gabriel when you get to the school—tell him what’s—”
Thunder cut him off. Lightning struck. She ran. Chris watched her streak across the field until the darkness swallowed her up.
And here he was, standing in the middle of an acre of grass.
He couldn’t run to the school—this guy had already proven he wasn’t afraid to take out innocent bystanders. Chris didn’t want to think what would happen if a lightning strike of this magnitude hit the gym.
Then he realized he wasn’t thinking in the right direction. Curtis Creek ran along the back of the school property, a forty-foot-wide stretch of water that wasn’t much of a creek at all but more of a river.
He’d be safe in the water. If he could get to it.
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Chris ran.
Ten seconds told him this was a bad idea. The grass grabbed his feet, tried to slow him down.
He begged the rain for strength, for power. Every step was a struggle.
Not to mention the lightning piercing the earth. He dodged hard, losing his footing more than once.
Was this field a mile long? God, he felt like he wore a target on his back.
The grass underfoot changed, becoming thicker, less manicured. He’d left the soccer fields, and soon he’d be crashing through a few dense copses of trees; then he’d find the creek beyond. He was running hard, despite his speed. If he wasn’t careful, his foot would find a root—
Chris went sprawling. His head hit a tree.
It hurt. For a minute, Chris scrabbled at underbrush, trying to figure out which way to run. He was barely sure which way was up.
But the water knew he was coming, and he felt it calling him. The trees must have been providing some kind of cover, because lightning hadn’t struck since he’d fallen. He stayed low.
There was a twenty-foot stretch of grass between the trees and the creek. He could run it. Would he be a live target for lightning again?
Lightning hit a tree to his left. It didn’t so much catch on fire as explode. Bark and limbs went flying into the air.
Yes. He’d be a target.
But now there were flaming bits of debris in the air, and smoke curled through the rain. This was probably the best cover he’d get.
He burst out of the trees, feeling flaming bark catch at his shirt and burn. It didn’t matter. He’d be in the water in ten seconds. Nine. Eight.
He jumped a fallen branch. Seven. Six.
He could see the creek now, a dark roll of angry water, fed by the storm and his power. His enemy might be stronger here in the rain, but Chris knew instinctively, if he got in that water, he’d tip the scale of power in his favor.
Five. Four.
Three.
Screw it. Chris leapt into the air, arms outstretched. He could dive like an Olympic medalist. The water was there, below him, waiting.
Lightning cracked.
Chris felt his hands hit the water.
And then he didn’t feel anything at all.
CHAPTER 33
Becca ran for the front of the school, stumbling in her heels, sure she’d be the center of attention with her torn and soaked dress, Chris’s jacket hanging from her shoulders. But most of the kids from the dance were outside—and just as drenched as she was. Apparently, there’d been quite a show when Drew and his buddies showed up, demanding an ambulance.
No one gave her a second glance.
Becca shivered under the flagpole and used trembling fingers to search Chris’s contacts for Nick and Gabriel.
Only Gabriel answered.
We’ll take care of it.
“Becca!” Quinn appeared at her shoulder, her blond hair plastered to her chest. “Come on! We need to get out of the rain!”
Becca let Quinn drag her, but stopped when she realized she was being pushed into Rafe’s car. The lightning had stopped—that had to be a good thing, right? “Wait,” she cried. “I need—I can’t—”
“Don’t worry,” said Quinn. “I told him we’d get you home.”
Becca blinked at her. “Chris?”
Quinn frowned and shoved her the rest of the way into the car, sliding in behind her. The scent of sweat and summer rain was thick in the air. “No, Bex. Hunter. He was really upset,” she said. “He got a call or something and had to go home.”
That tore Becca’s attention off the cell phone clutched in her hand. “He just left?” It made her remember Chris’s comment. You started dating some stupid tool who couldn’t figure out letting you go with Drew was a bad idea.
“He was flipping out. Something with his mom, maybe?” Quinn grimaced. “I’m sorry, Bex, there was just a lot going on. I was trying to look for you, and then the ambulances showed up—”
That was the best part of this evening. Now people were suspecting Drew and his friends had taken a hit of something and had a bad reaction. First a rapist, now a user.
She hoped they’d be expelled.
Becca flipped Chris’s phone open. No new messages.
What had happened? The Guide, for sure. But Chris and the twins had driven him away from the bridge. Would they be able to do it again?
Her own phone beeped. She almost jumped a mile, but got it together to dig it out of her purse.
Despite the fact that she was holding Chris’s phone in her lap, she had the uncanny hope that this would be a message from him.
No luck. But it was from Hunter.
Are you OK? So sorry to leave you.
She stroked her thumb over the display, deliberating how to respond. Then she tapped a quick reply.
What happened?
His response took forever, and when it came, it didn’t say much:
Family stuff. Too much for txt. 2morrow.
Figured. She sighed. But Becca kept hearing Chris’s question, right before the lightning started to strike.
Speaking of our local narc, just what do you know about him?
Did Chris think Hunter was somehow involved with what had happened?
She stared at his words on her phone, absently fingering the rocks on her wrist. New age nonsense? Or something as familiar to him as Chris’s water or Nick’s air?
She stared out at the night. Still no lightning. Just rain, whipped by wind to strike the car.
Quinn’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You all right, Bex?”
Was there an answer to that? Becca nodded, but didn’t look at her. “Fine.”
“You never told me what Drew said.”
Becca gave a halfhearted laugh. “Too much. Not enough. I don’t know.”
Quinn didn’t say anything, and Becca was suddenly aware of Rafe’s eyes on her in the rearview mirror.
“What happened?” said Quinn, and her voice was low.
“He didn’t want to apologize. He just wanted to finish what he started at that soccer party.” Now she looked up, meeting Quinn’s eyes. Her voice sounded flat, but it was better than the alternative. “It was a trick. He and his friends dragged me onto the soccer field.”
Quinn shifted closer, taking her hand. “Oh, Bex ...”
Becca shook her head, shocked to feel another tear roll down her cheek. She swiped it away. “It’s okay. He didn’t—Chris stopped them.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “You mean—how they looked on the quad ... Chris did that?”
Becca squared her shoulders. She remembered the feel of her elbow smashing Seth in the face, the taste of Drew’s blood on her tongue. “And me.”
Rafe whistled from the front seat. “You go, girl.”
Quinn didn’t spare him a glance. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Becca gave her friend a weak smile. “You kids have fun.”
Her house felt emptier than usual. Quinn had almost demanded to stay—and Becca had almost let her. She just couldn’t bear the thought of reliving it all for Quinn, who would surely want details.
Becca sat at the kitchen table and stared at Chris’s cell phone, checking it every fifteen seconds.
Nothing.
She scrolled through his contacts again, letting her thumb stop on Michael.
Would Chris want her to call him? He and the twins had been pretty emphatic that they didn’t want him involved. And Gabriel had said they’d take care of it—if they wanted Michael, they would have called him.
Right?
She opened the front door. The chill in the air seeped right through her skin and into her bones. The rain had stopped entirely, and a few stars peeked between broken clouds.
The storm was over.
She just didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Becca took a hot shower and dressed in flannel pajamas, curling beneath her comforter to combat her shivering. She ch
ecked the phone again. Nothing.
Then she lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling, remembering the feel of Drew’s body trapping her own.
The moment in the field had only lasted a minute, but here in the dark, it seemed to last an hour. Two. She watched the clock count the minutes. Just the thought of Drew was enough to trap her.
She couldn’t breathe.
But then she remembered the sleet on her face, slicing through her panic.
You’re brave. And you’re strong. Or did someone else break Seth’s nose tonight?
A tiny smile found her lips.
Then it was gone. “Chris,” she whispered.
She pulled his phone off the nightstand and checked the messages again.
None.
She switched his phone to vibrate and hugged it to her chest, staring at the ceiling until sleep crept out of nowhere.
Chris woke up.
And that right there was a frigging miracle.
He was lying on something cold and rough, like concrete. It hurt to move, so he didn’t try. Pounding filled his head and made him stay still for a long minute. For a panicked moment he thought something was wrong with his eyes—he couldn’t see anything.
Then he realized there was no light.
The air felt stale, too. No ventilation.
And not a drop of water anywhere near. He felt like he’d lost one of his senses.
He slid his fingers along the ground. Definitely concrete, and cold.
Then he heard something shift against the ground, that soft rasp of grit against fabric. Then a hissed breath.
He rolled to a crouch. Every muscle protested, but adrenaline helped. “Who’s there?”
The noise stopped. Chris put a hand against the ground and fought to hear. Something, anything.
Then a voice, rough and dry, barely more than a whisper. “Chris?”