Fallen Crest Forever

His shaking was worse. I didn’t think he could get any paler than he was, but he did. He was almost as white as a piece of paper, with fury in his eyes. They were near black. “Stop it.”

No. Fucking. Way.

“Whatever the reason she’s going with him, she decided to do it. Her. Not me. Not him. Her.” I looked him over. “She already left you, but that’s insult to injury. She’s going to hook up with your enemy’s best friend.”

The coat remained in the back of my mind.

Why the coat?

I risked a look over his shoulder. Sam covered her mouth with her hand, and she was visibly trembling.

I wanted her to go. My eyes caught and held hers. I tried pleading with her.

She shook her head, lowering her hand and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Go,” I mouthed once more.

Another head shake.

Quinn was watching me. I had to look back at him or he’d notice. I couldn’t let him do that. If he did, if he turned—I’d take him down.

The coat. I started eyeing it again, forcing myself to look away from Sam.

She didn’t like when I toyed with Adam. That was what she thought I was doing. I was the better guy, tormenting the lesser guy. She didn’t see him for who he was. He was toxic. He kept coming back. He kept trying to take mine away.

I didn’t know what else to do.

But Sam was good. I was not.

I wouldn’t let him hurt her. Ever.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

I jerked my gaze back to him. He’d reached into his coat pockets again.

“I came to you,” he said. “I should be attacking you, but you’re attacking me. Maybe that’s my fault. That’s what you do, isn’t it? When you’re backed in a corner, you go on the offensive.”

Like an animal—the way I thought of him.

My lips parted at the irony. “Maybe I’m just impatient?”

“No.” He shook his head, his eyes falling again. “That’s not it. You’re patient. That’s a quality you use for your success. I know. I know you. Logan’s the impatient one. Not you. You . . . if you attack, you’re doing it for a reason.” He looked back to me, and I was chilled.

He was dead inside. I saw into him.

I wanted to edge back, but I stopped myself. No matter what was coming, I was here. I’d take him down before anything could happen.

His hands were still in his pockets, and a sick thought came to me. I saw his hands moving in his pockets. No. Only his right hand. Like something was in there.

Like he was grabbing at it, getting ready to pull it out.

I didn’t want to give it a name, but I looked over his shoulder to Sam. She had to go. She had to run.

Tears streamed down her face. I didn’t think she was even aware of them. She had both her hands pressed over her mouth, and seeing what I wanted, she shook her head. She wasn’t going to go.

She had to.

I pushed back the ice that lined my organs. I shoved away the rage that was just underneath it. I only wanted her to see love and warmth right now from me. I saw the dawning recognition in her eyes. It was slow and still horror-filled, and she began shaking her head even harder.

She was going to say something, or choke back a sob. She was going to make a noise, and he’d know she was there.

He couldn’t—I tore my eyes from her and tossed out, “What the fuck do you want, Quinn? You want me to call Nate off Becky?”

I picked those words on purpose, and he grimaced like I’d hit him.

I advanced, softening my tone. “Because that’s what’s going to happen. And you know it. Whether she goes out just to talk, it doesn’t matter. You know how charming Nate can be. Girls like him. They unzip their jeans for him, raise their skirts for him. They pull their panties off and give them to him, if he asks. They finger themselves, if he asks. I know they do because he’s told me. How does Becky like it? Does she like your fingers in her first? Is she going to pull his fingers into her? Buck her hips on them, like she’s riding a horse? Is that what she does?”

He couldn’t talk. His hate for me was right on the surface, and my gut was right. He was here to kill me.

A chill went through me. I ignored it.

“You want to know the worst thing about this? Even if he was honest and told her he called her because I asked him to do it, she still decided to go with it. She did. She’s choosing him. How’s that feel? To know you’re going to lose a second woman you love because of me?”

It was enough.

A primal roar erupted from him, and he started to pull his hand out. I rushed him.

Sam screamed.

I grabbed his arm and pushed him back, hitting it hard against my vehicle.

He screamed too, but I kept hitting his arm against my Escalade. He had to let go of the gun. He still wouldn’t. His hand was still in there. Adam grunted. I held him against my truck, and he grinned at me. Sweat poured off him.

“I could never hurt you, Mason. I’ve tried, but it doesn’t work. That’s why I came. I wanted to give you this—” He started to pull his hand out.

I released him, stepped back, and rounded with my fist.

One punch across his face, and he slumped to the ground.

Sam was still screaming in the background, but I had to get the gun. He was unconscious, and his hand fell out . . .

There was a letter crumpled in his hand, and it fell onto the parking lot’s cement.

A letter.

I couldn’t—a goddamn letter.

My heart raced. I reached for it, turned it over.

It was addressed to Becky.

SAMANTHA

“Sam?” Gentle hands touched my shoulder. Mason. I didn’t know why he was being gentle with me, but I launched myself at him. I held him tight, burrowing into him. I wanted him to take me away. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be a part of this. Any of this.

He crushed me to him, his hand running down my hair and back.

I drew in a ragged breath. I tried to speak. I couldn’t.

He just held me.

Then someone pulled up by us. Car doors opened and shut.

A muffled, “Oh, no.”

Mason spoke over my shoulder, “Check him. I thought he was going for a gun.”

“Sam?”

A soft female voice. I looked. Taylor stood next to me, tears cascading down her face. She touched my arm. I didn’t release Mason, but unwound one arm and pulled her in. I couldn’t think about what was happening behind us.

“Shit.”

That wasn’t Mason.

I looked. Logan had fallen back so he was sitting on the cement. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. He looked at Adam like he’d just realized he was an alien. The letter was still on the ground, but . . .

. . . Next to it was a gun.

Red and blue lights flashed in the night.

Someone had called campus police.

We sat on the back end of an ambulance. Two of them were here, one for Adam and a second for us. We were fine. Adam was the only one who got carted off. Mason had broken one of his ribs from when he shoved him against the Escalade.

The campus cops told us Adam would be charged for bringing a weapon on campus.

They asked Mason what happened, and he told them. He thought Adam had a gun.

They talked to me. I just wanted to talk to Mason; that’s why I’d come to find him.

I wanted to thank him for always protecting me.

They talked to Logan and Taylor. Logan explained that we weren’t at the dinner, so he wanted to come see if something was up. Mason wasn’t answering his calls, and that wasn’t like him.

What happened when they got there?

There was a pause at that question.

I didn’t look up, but I felt Mason tense next to me. He shifted, looking over. I assumed he and Logan shared a look, and then Logan’s tired voice spoke.

“Quinn was on the ground. Mason was consoling Sam, and he told me to look for a gun.”

“Who?”

I jerked. The cop was so impassive, so brisk. Like he dealt with this all the time.

A sad laugh bubbled up in my throat. He was campus police, but maybe this was a normal day at the office for him. Which was so sad, in so many ways.

“Uh . . .”

I looked now. Logan had a hand in his hair, his other arm around Taylor, who leaned back against him. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">