Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
The classroom is unlocked, and I take a seat at my usual desk, waiting for him to come. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. Then thirty. After an hour, he does show up, only to open the door, look at me, and leave again. Another two hours later, he returns and takes a seat at the desk. His face is a mask of indifference and it feels like we’re back to the beginning all over again. Every hard-won ounce of progress has imploded, and I’m at a loss. Silence fills the space between us, and I hold out for as long as I can. But after the five-hour mark, I’m no longer able to hold my bodily functions.
To my utter humiliation, my bladder empties itself all over the seat and drips down onto the floor. Sebastian glances up with a bored expression on his face, and it’s at this point, he finally speaks.
“Now you are free to go, Miss LeClaire.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
STELLA
“YOU LOOK LIKE HELL.” Sybil flops down onto the bed beside me.
“I feel like hell,” I reply.
“Have you spoken with him?”
“No.” I shake my head. “As far as I know, he hasn’t returned to campus. There’s been no texts, no phone calls, but these arrived today. There wasn’t a note though.”
She examines the box of burgundy eternity roses from Fleurs De Paris with the same level of scrutiny I had when I checked them over. “It seems like something he would do. Is he trying to send you a message without actually saying it?”
“He’s toying with me. That’s what it feels like anyway. He made it pretty clear before he left where I stood. So why the cryptic flowers?”
“He doesn’t strike me as the type who likes the taste of an apology on his lips,” Sybil observes. “Maybe this is his way of trying to convey something along those lines.”
“I don’t know.” I glare at the flowers.
“So, he never told you about his father?” she asks.
“No.” The school announced his absence today due to a death in the family. There was no indication of how long he’d be gone for, or if he’d even be coming back.
“How did it go down exactly?” She offers me a gummy bear, and I decline.
“Everything was fine, and then it wasn’t.” I shrug. “He took me to Nantucket, and then he told me to leave. A few days later, he showed up to get some of his things, I assume, and left again.”
I leave out the part about detention, which I now understand was a message from Sebastian. How far will you go to prove yourself to me, Stella? Why are you even here, Stella? Now that you understand your loyalty means nothing, you are free to go, Stella.
“I’m sure it was just the grief talking,” she says, trying her best to make me feel better about the situation.
“I’m sure it was,” I agree. “But I just don’t think I have anything left to give.”
“I don’t blame you.” She shakes her head. “He’s been a major prick. I mean most men are at times, but Sebastian could give the worst of them a run for their money.”
Sybil’s disparaging analysis doesn’t make me feel any better. “He is an asshole, but I think I’ve finally figured out why.”
She quirks an eyebrow and turns toward me, bumping my knee with hers. “Do tell.”
“You know how you mentioned that it was odd he didn’t play soccer?”
“Yeah?” She nods.
“Well, he told me it was because he had a career-ending injury. He was pretty vague about the whole incident, but then I found this necklace in his bag. It had someone else’s name on it, and when I looked it up, I found out it was his sister.”
“Why would he carry around his sister’s necklace?” Sybil asks.
“I think he carries it around to punish himself.” I pull my phone off the dresser and scroll through my bookmarks. “Or maybe to remember her. I’m not really sure, but I found this, and it explains a lot.”
Once I have the article pulled up, I hand the phone to Sybil, and she reads in silence while I wait. Her expression morphs from one of curiosity to horror in the matter of a few moments.
“Holy shit,” she whispers. “His sister was murdered, and he watched it go down? No wonder he’s so fucked up.”
“They attacked him too,” I point out. “That was the career-ending injury he mentioned. But the whole thing seems odd. The article says Sebastian willingly handed over his wallet, but they still beat him and killed his sister.”
“Well, people are insane.” She hands me back the phone. “Who knows why they did it. But that explains why he’s always freaking out about your safety.”
“At least, why he used to.” I shrug. The truth is, I haven’t heard from Sebastian in weeks, and I have a horrible feeling in my gut I never will again. From what I’ve gathered, he and his father weren’t close, but it’s obvious his death has shaken him, nonetheless.