My eyes burned with exhaustion, sadness, defeat, you name it. Bradley helped his sister up, and neither of them could meet my eye. Taylor wrung her hands until Bethany pulled her away without so much as a good-bye, and the rest of the girls followed suit.
I was alone with Judd’s pepper spray and my phone. The past two years roiled deep inside of me, filling all the spaces where a normal person used to be. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be at a breaking point, because I felt like I was coming apart at the seams, sadness seeping out of my joints and tearing me apart.
Grinding my teeth, I turned in the direction of my house. The wind kicked up, pulling at my sweater and making the branches above creak and moan. Normally, my heart would thump in response and I’d become hyper aware of my surroundings just in case someone was after me, because there almost always seemed to be someone after me. But after everything with Bradley and Naomi, and Liam still in trouble for a crime he hadn’t committed and a real killer still on the loose, none of it mattered anymore. I was back to square one, and the old recklessness was back in full force.
So when a car pulled up beside me at approximately 2:57 in the morning, I didn’t pick up my pace or grab at my heart or grip the pepper spray until my knuckles were white and my fingers tingled. I dare you. I dare you to mess with me, to try something, to hurt me any more than I am already hurt. It wasn’t possible.
“Kate?”
I knew that voice.
“Kate, get in. You shouldn’t be out here alone.” The wind cut through my sweater and wrapped around my waist and up my back. My teeth chattered. I was freezing. When I turned to the shiny, black BMW and saw Porter behind the wheel, I didn’t hesitate. Porter with his sad eyes and his broken spirit. I got in because looking into his eyes was a little like looking into a mirror.
“Thank God I found you,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’m sure you think I’m…like…unstable or something, and I guess everyone’s right, but I’m not going to hurt you or anyone or anything.” The words tumbled out of Porter’s mouth, and I felt bad that he even felt like he had to say something. I knew none of it was his fault. If anyone knew better, it was me.
“I don’t…”
“It’s just…complicated,” he interrupted. “Everything at the beach, being sent home…it’s not what everyone thinks.”
“It’s okay, Porter. You don’t have to explain. I get it.” He didn’t have to tell me about the messed-up nature of the Brotherhood. I already knew.
He pulled to a stop sign and lingered at the intersection. “I don’t want to upset you, but I found something and I think you deserve to see it.”
God, this had to be the last thing I needed right now. The only thing I deserved to see at this point was a padded cell where I could finally stop hurting myself and everyone else I happened to touch. Somehow deserving to see and destroying were almost always synonymous. I deserved to see that picture of Liam kissing Bethany. I deserved to hear Maddie saying terrible things about me. I deserved to find out that Taylor had punked me and sent me fake emails from Grace. But did I really? Had I somehow brought this all upon myself, starting with the night I’d abandoned my best friend?
I pursed my lips together to stop the question from spilling out.
Porter turned and reached into the backseat, holding a crumpled piece of paper when he twisted back around. He handed me the sheet, and when I saw the orange writing, its source was clear.
“I found it in the hallway crumpled against a locker. I didn’t know if I should show you or not, but I knew if someone had something of Alistair’s…” Porter’s voice cracked on his brother’s name, and tears flooded my eyes. He was so hurt, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. It was so unfair. I didn’t even know what to say. All this time, I hated when people didn’t know what to say, and I had no words.
“I’m…” I began lamely.
“Forget it. It’s not a big deal.” Porter shook his head and pulled away from the stop sign. I ran my fingers over the words, desperately wanting to read them, but knowing I should wait until I’d made it home behind my locked bedroom door.
“You should read that now. It’s…I don’t know. It’s kind of, like, urgent.”
I nodded, my eyes already skimming her loopy handwriting. Urgent. Even after her death, Grace still had a knack for delivering something right on time. I needed a sign, and Grace had given me one. Maybe I deserved to read this after all.