Chapter Twenty-Two
I’m blind with white-hot rage at Freddie’s nonchalant confession and his smug, shitty tone.
I pushed her.
With the words echoing in my head on repeat, I lunge toward him, a snarl ripping from my throat.
Grasping hold of Freddie’s coat’s lapels, I snarl as I lift my knee, nailing him square in the crotch.
Freddie doubles over with a howl, clutching himself, and I’m about to knee him in the nose when Connor tugs me back at the last second.
He wraps his arm around my middle while I kick and scratch at Freddie, screaming at him.
“Fucking bitch! Get your whore under control, Wells!” Freddie staggers to the side and bends over. He rests his hands on his knees and begins to retch with a groan. He heaves and curses, and all I want to do is hurt him again.
Hurt him the way he hurt Isla. The way he hurt Emily.
Fuck it—those hurts are too good for him.
“Why?!” I yell, my voice animalistic, unrecognizable to my own ears.
In contrast, Freddie’s voice is smooth as silk.
“She was screaming, as you may recall,” he says.
“Kneeling on the edge, yelling to Emily. Emily! Talk to me, Emily! Are you okay? Like I said—stupidity really seems to be a genetic inheritance in your family. Anyway, she was there. She was wailing. She was … trying to prove you’re a Canterbury.
So I helped her reach Emily. Or I tried, anyway. Didn’t take the way I hoped it would.”
“You’re a fucking monster!” I scream, swiping at the air with all the power I can muster.
I dig my feet into the dirt and try to break Connor’s hold.
If I can get to Freddie, I can rake my nails down his face and pull his hair and make him hurt, make him feel some kind of pain, make him show me he can feel anything at all.
“Billie. Baby. Calm down.” Connor’s even voice is soothing, and I focus on the sound. Taking a deep breath, I relax in his hold, but he doesn’t let me go. Which is smart because I would’ve launched into a new beat-down on Freddie if given the chance.
“He’s not worth you possibly hurting yourself,” Connor reminds me, and I nod, though I can’t speak. I’m breathing heavily, anger coursing through my blood and making it run hot. He killed Emily. He almost killed Isla. And he doesn’t give a shit.
I hate him.
Worse? I’m related to him. He’s my cousin. If they’re all as bad as Freddie, I don’t want to claim his family as any part of mine.
Freddie is still hunched over and clutching his stomach while he wheezes like he can’t catch his breath. Good. “Miserable whore.” He glares at me. “How dare you?”
I start laughing, and it sounds hysterical. I feel hysterical. Out of my mind and body. Like none of this is real. “Getting uppity on me now, Fred? Give me a break.”
My taunting tone has him lurching toward me, and he trips over a rock.
He stumbles backward, his eyes going wide as he throws his arms out.
He’s precariously close to the edge, and as if on instinct, I tear out of Connor’s grip.
Running toward Freddie, I grab hold of one of his flailing hands and keep him from tumbling over the cliff’s edge.
Adrenaline gives me the strength to pull Freddie forward, but at the last minute, Connor forces me to let go. He grabs hold of my shoulder and whips me around to face him while Freddie writhes on the ground.
“We can’t let him fall—” I start, and Connor shakes his head once, his expression grim.
“He’s drunk.” Connor’s eyes are wild, his breathing heavy while his whole body vibrates. “We saw it happen, Billie. He stumbled too close to the edge and … fell. We couldn’t save him in time.”
My eyes go wide. “No. Connor, we can’t.”
Connor’s face crumples, and I see the misery in his turbulent gaze.
“He let my sister die. Just stood by while she went over the side and did nothing to help her. He could’ve said something.
He could have brought my family some peace.
Even if he made up a story about how it all unfolded, that’s the least he could’ve done.
But he didn’t. Instead, he let my sister die, and he’s letting your sister take the blame so he can get away with it.
That has to make you angry, Billie. Right?
You hate him. I hate him, too. He doesn’t deserve to live after what he’s done to our families.
Don’t you want to make him pay as much as I do? ”
“Of course I do! But my entire life has been shaped by what happened when some callous asshole went over the edge of this exact cliff and the two people who knew the truth never said anything. Do you really think we can lie about this for the rest of our lives?” I stare at Connor, trying to implore him with my own earnest gaze, but there’s nothing but firm resolution on his face.
“Absolutely.” A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I can keep a secret.”
I slowly shake my head. “You think that now, but I’ve seen the way guilt can eat someone alive.
How it leaves them a shell of who they used to be.
Guilt like that can end a marriage. Destroy a family.
A secret this big can make someone turn to alcohol or substances to numb them so they can’t remember what happened.
Or how they’re responsible. Do you really want to do that to yourself? To me?”
Connor closes his eyes for a brief second and presses his forehead against mine.
When he opens his eyes, tears streak down his face.
I feel them drop onto my own cheeks. Whatever ends up happening, we’re bonded forever by the tragedy that unfolded on this cliff, both in the past and the present.
No one else will understand what happened or what we’ve been through.
How it feels to stand on this cliffside with the wind at our backs while we decide whether or not Freddie Pembroke should die.
I felt a connection to Connor from the moment we first met, but this, right now, is on a whole other level.
I press my palms against Connor’s chest and detect the frantic beating of his heart.
I couldn’t live with the guilt. I’ve witnessed it firsthand, just like I told Connor.
It’s a terrible thing, watching someone you love destroy themselves bit by bit, day by day.
All because there was something weighing heavily on them.
Secrets are a terrible burden I wouldn’t wish on anyone, and I’ve already carried more than my fair share these past two weeks.
I wouldn’t wish the burden of a secret like this on my worst enemy.
Which is to say, I wouldn’t wish it on Freddie Pembroke.
“Billie.” Connor’s voice is a rasp, and I lift my gaze to his. The sincerity that blazes in his eyes makes my heart jump. “I love you, Billie. You have to know—”
Out of nowhere, Freddie appears, looming behind Connor with a giant tree branch in his hands. He swings it with a grunt, straight into Connor’s knee, sending him to the ground.
“Fuck!” Connor roars, clutching his knee.
I kneel down to help him just as Freddie swings again, the branch making contact with Connor’s head. He slumps forward, his body limp, and I’m screaming.
“No! No!” Over and over again.
“Shut the fuck up!” Freddie yells, and I jerk my gaze to his. He clears his throat, his expression evening out. “You know what happens to girls who start screaming on this cliff.”
I jump to my feet, never taking my eyes off Freddie. Hatred curdles my stomach, and as if he can sense it, he smiles. His pupils are dilated, his breaths quick and shallow. It’s obvious he’s not in his right mind. How am I going to rescue Connor now that he’s down? How am I going to rescue myself?
Without a word, Freddie takes a menacing step toward me, and I shuffle back toward the tree. I reach inside my coat pocket, searching for my phone, but I can’t find it.
“Wrong way,” Freddie snaps.
“Excuse me?” I pause.
“You’re walking in the wrong direction.” He gestures toward the ledge with the branch.
I’m incredulous. “What makes you think I would step anywhere near the edge of a cliff with you nearby? You just told me you pushed Isla from that same exact spot.”
“You’re going to walk over there and jump.” Freddie’s voice is eerily calm, despite the snarl on his face and the giant branch he’s wielding. “Or I’m going to crack open Connor’s head like a fucking melon.”
The image his words conjure up fills me with despair. I fight to remain calm, forcing my lungs to accept a deep but ragged breath. “You actually believe I would trade my life for his?”
Freddie hoists the branch over his head and slams it down on Connor’s arm.
The chilling sound of bone snapping rings in the air as Connor gasps awake before he starts screaming with pain.
But it only lasts for a second before he goes quiet, though I can tell from the rise and fall of his chest that he’s still breathing.
I’m filled with a sick sort of relief that at least he’s not lying there awake and suffering. And at least he’s alive.
“So fucking predictable.” Freddie stalks toward me, dragging that branch along with him, and I keep moving, shocked to find I’ve already closed half the distance between myself and the ledge.
“Someone like you is never going to be more than a pawn in the games of better men, Belinda. Of course you’ll trade yourself for Connor.
Who even are you? No one. Just like your mother, a nobody from nowhere.
But Connor? Ho, ho, the Connor Wells! The golden boy!
The Wells family just got their lives back—minus Emily, but hey, at least Dad isn’t in prison anymore.
It’d be a damn shame if Jonathan just went through all the trouble of fucking over my dad, only to lose his son the very next week. Now move.”