34. Margo
Chapter 34
Margo
A melie and Savannah have pulled a disappearing act.
It’s not surprising, Riley informs me. They like to take trips, and the school is resigned to accept their halfhearted attendance. After all, their parents make considerable donations each year. Moreso Amelie’s family, but still.
Rumors fly that they’ve jetted off to Paris to find the best dresses and masks for the Fall Ball. Always a step above us little people, I suppose.
“Do they have dates?” I ask Riley.
May as well ask, since both would’ve been vying for Caleb if I wasn’t here.
She makes a face. “Last I heard, Amelie and Ian were going together. Not sure about Savannah.”
Ian Fletcher has been keeping his distance, but his stare burns like a hot coal against my skin. Why he’s taken such an interest is anyone’s guess.
“We need to pick out dresses,” Riley continues. “I was thinking we should have a shopping day this weekend.”
We’re in the library, which has remained our safe haven. So far, Caleb and Eli haven’t come searching for us. A few times Caleb has shot me questioning glances as I slipped into the class right after lunch. But he never asked, and I never mentioned it.
It’s been three days since Caleb and I went to New York City. He kept his distance on Sunday—letting me sort my emotions, I guess—and on Monday we were back to normal. As normal as we can be anyway. And unsurprisingly, people have stopped making so many remarks. The picture drew attention at first, but they’ve all but forgotten it now.
“Lenora mentioned dress shopping this weekend, too,” I tell her. “Want to come?”
Riley grins. “Absolutely.”
The door to the library creaks open. We can’t see it from where we sit in the back, so both of us automatically slink down. Students aren’t supposed to be in here—let alone with food. It’s only because of Riley’s familial relationship with Amy that this is even possible.
A few times, we’ve had to hide in the stacks because the principal came in to speak with Amy.
“I thought you locked it,” I whisper to her.
She cringes.
Caleb appears with Eli right behind him.
I groan. “There goes our safe haven.”
Caleb looks down at me. “Are you hiding?”
“No.”
“We just like the quiet,” Riley says.
Eli scowls. “Save it, Applebottom.”
“Let’s go.” Caleb offers his hand.
I shake my head. “The last time we went with you, bad things happened.”
He raises his eyebrow. “And if you don’t come with me now, worse things will happen.”
I lean back and cross my arms. “No.”
He sighs, but I can tell he’s enjoying this. It’s not my fault I want to push all his buttons, and then some. His mind is working, coming up with the best punishment, and I wait with trepidation.
I started it, though. Too late to stop.
Caleb exchanges a glance with Eli. He seems to come to some decision.
He leans down and hauls me over his shoulder. I squeal when he straightens and I’m upside down, my ass in the air. I stare at his lower back and grab on to his waist.
“Oh my God.” Riley laughs.
“Are you going to come quietly?” Eli asks her.
“Yep.” She rises. “Sorry, Margo.”
Caleb’s arms are banded around my thighs, keeping me in place while he walks. The four of us pass Amy’s office. She glances up but quickly buries her head back in her book.
Traitor.
“Is my ass on display?” I hiss at Riley.
Caleb swears and shifts his hold. He pins my skirt down, although that’s not much better. He walks right into the cafeteria with me over his shoulder. My face is hot, but I know begging won’t stop him. Things have to be done his way. Always.
Without Amelie and Savannah here, the cheerleader table is quiet. No one wants to step up and own the bullying or their hatred of me. Still, they all whisper when Caleb and I pass. Eli and Riley follow us, and the whispers double.
Caleb pats my ass, then lowers me back to my feet. He’s careful about the skirt, and his burning gaze takes in my slightly rumpled shirt and hair.
I can only imagine what he’s thinking.
I glare at him and try to fix myself. Finger combing my hair, straightening my shirt and skirt. “Not cool.”
He shrugs. “I gave you a choice.”
“Not really,” I argue. “It’s not a choice if the end result is the same.”
His grin turns sly. “You could’ve walked here on your own two feet. Instead… I enjoyed the show.”
Theo and Liam are already at the table. Eli and Riley sit next to Liam, and I slide onto the bench next to Theo. Caleb comes over with two trays of food, setting one next to me. He shoots a glare at Theo, then sits on my other side.
Theo grins at me. “Thanks for bringing my girlfriend out of hiding, Asher.”
I snort and grab Caleb’s arm before he can do anything crazy—like punch his best friend. Again . I don’t think Emery-Rose would survive if Caleb had to sit out any more hockey games.
“Watch it, Alistair,” Caleb growls.
“Calm down.” I stroke his arm. “He was joking. Right, Theo?”
Theo appraises me with dark eyes. “Right.”
“See?” I turn to Caleb, triumphant.
Caleb’s face is still shuttered. He puts his hand on the back of my neck and leaves it there for the rest of lunch. The others joke around. Eli and Riley share a few looks and smiles. It’s weird being part of their table—at the center of it, really—but so separate. Is it Caleb’s doing or mine? I’ve never fit in. And I suspect, even though Caleb could charm a snake, he doesn’t try it on his friends.
They accept him as the monster he is. And me, I guess I’m just the possession he’s been trying to acquire. They ignore it, or they’re comfortable in it. Comfortable with their own demons, with the thrones they sit on. The royalty of Emery-Rose Elite are cherished from afar… because no one wants to get close to them.
No one except those who don’t know any better.
Amelie. Savannah. Who knows who else.
The bell rings, and Caleb takes his time getting up. His hand is still on my neck, holding me to him. I like the feel of his fingers on my skin. The way his short nails scratch lightly.
My heart beats faster.
I skip going to my locker to make it to class on time—not that he cares. We’re in it together, and he makes sure I’m seated right in front of him.
Our two afternoon classes should be quiet. Mr. McGuire assigns homework, then lets us work on it for the last ten minutes.
“I’ll meet you up there,” I tell Caleb before our painting class.
He nods and brushes his lips to my temple, and I head to my locker. It’s on the opposite side of the school, but I’m not too worried about being late. I’m halfway there when the hallway empties out and the bell rings.
It’s silent for a beat. Two.
I should’ve said: I’m not too worried about getting in trouble for being late.
My heart pounds, and I quicken my steps. Will Robert give me detention for being late, or if he’ll let it slide this time?
I just got ungrounded, after all. Who knows how far he can be pushed?
Does he separate home from school? I mean—I know he does, technically. But will Mr. Bryan factor in my recent grounding as a prior offense?
Someone slams into me from behind.
I go flying forward, falling to my hands and knees. The impact rattles through my shoulders. My backpack slides away from me.
What the fuck?
Hands yank me up, pushing me face-first into the lockers. The cold metal kisses my cheek. The hands turn me around, keeping me pinned. They touch too much—my chest, the side of my breast.
My skin crawls.
“Wrong place, wrong time.” Ian Fletcher’s face is wild with excitement.
How long has he waited for a moment where I’m alone and unguarded?
Caleb should be in Robert’s class by now. How long will he wait before coming to find me? Two minutes after the bell? Five? Fifteen?
I lick my lips. “Ian. What are you?—”
My words are cut off when he pulls me forward and shoves me back again. My head cracks against the locker, and stars burst in my vision. Blood fills my mouth.
I never thought I’d actually see stars . They’re more like white fireworks, really.
“No talking,” he says in my ear. “You and me are going for a little walk.”
His fingers dig into my arm. If I saw someone I knew, I’d yell out. But we don’t pass a single filled classroom. He drags me down a narrow, lesser-used hall, and through a side door that leads out toward the soccer fields.
I don’t make a sound. My chest is tight, my head throbs. We skirt the field and head toward the woods. The path that the cross-country runners use. I ran into Theo out here once, but I doubt I’ll be that lucky a second time.
I stumble, but he keeps me upright and moving fast.
Fear trickles through me.
It’s darker in the forest. We’re ten steps in, and suddenly the world is a whole lot more sinister. Muted sunlight flickers through the trees. It’s cloudy today, so even the golden leaves of autumn don’t make it a happier—or warmer—place. We could be standing in a graveyard for all the warmth I feel.
He releases me.
I don’t know why that surprises me more than anything. Maybe I thought he’d reveal a knife and slice me open. Or hurt me in some other way. I put some distance between us, rubbing my arms.
“You managed to ensnare Caleb Asher,” he barks. “How?”
This is about Caleb? “I don’t know.”
His face contorts into fury, and he lunges at me.
I stumble backward and hit a tree. It’s the only thing that keeps me upright, and I grip it with both hands.
“You. Margo Wolfe. He hated you for how many years? Six?”
I glare at him. The best course of action is to hide my fear, right? Don’t let him see how afraid I am. “Seven years.”
“Seven.” He laughs loudly. He’s not afraid of being heard at all, is he?
Birds take off to our left in a great flurry of motion.
“He uses people,” Ian warns. “Whatever you think you feel… it’s a lie. A manipulation.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His hand coasts over my jaw, his fingers gripping my chin and moving my face to the side. It’s painful, but I don’t make a peep.
His eyes latch on to the bite mark on my neck. It’s mostly faded—enough that I only put a light layer of concealer on it—but the makeup must’ve worn off.
“We were friends,” he says. “I play the same fucking sport as him, but it’s not enough. I’m on the outskirts of his friend group.”
“You showed him,” I reply weakly. “You stole his girlfriend. She cheated on him?—”
“Fat lot of fucking good that did.”
“Your problem isn’t with me.” My voice is low. The fear is strangling me the closer he gets.
He’s too close. Heat pours off his body, radiating into mine. My stomach knots, and I swallow sharply against my nervous nausea. He releases my chin, and I duck my head. I don’t want to see whatever madness is on his face.
“My problem is most certainly with you.” He wraps his hand around my throat.
When I just stare at him, he slams me back against the tree, and his grip tightens. Not enough to suffocate me, though. I can get in the smallest gasps of air. I keep my hands at my sides. If his goal is to make me beg, he has another thing coming.
“You’re the key to getting back at Caleb,” Ian muses. “I think he may even love you.”
It’s hard to breathe. Swallow. Panic claws at me.
Caleb Asher does not love me.
“It’s a game to him,” I wheeze.
Ian frowns.
If he wasn’t a maniac, he might even be handsome. He sure got Amelie’s attention.
“Please,” I mumble, finally bringing my hands up to his wrist.
He grunts, releasing me, and I slide to the ground. I cough and gulp in air. My fingers dig into the pine-needle-covered ground.
This seems familiar.
Déjà vu?
Ian squats next to me, grabbing my arm. He yanks it toward him, shoving my sleeve up. “Something to remember me by.”
He pulls out a permanent marker, biting the cap off, and writes a word across my forearm.
I watch in horror as he puts his teeth to my skin. He bites hard, and I cry out. The pain travels up my arm. It’s nothing like what Caleb has done to me. This is fear and disgust wrapped in one. The pain keeps coming, though, the harder he bites. Until he breaks the skin and blood drops past his lips.
He finally releases my arm, and I bring it in to my chest. My breathing is ragged, and I can’t seem to calm down.
His bite, the word he wrote, is more violating than I would’ve imagined.
“Who do you hate worse?” I can’t look at my arm, which has a pulse of its own, but I have the burning need to know what this is really about. “Me or Caleb?”
Ian sighs. “I don’t like you. But I think I really do hate Caleb Asher. With this… you’re the easier target. The button to push to make Caleb feel something other than self-righteous.” He lifts one shoulder. “Pity he wasn’t there to protect you this time.”
He stands, and something cold slides over his features. A mask that foretells something bad.
I have an instant to prepare before his foot snaps forward. He slams it into my stomach.
Pain and helplessness explode through me. I can’t describe how it feels. He kicks me twice more, and each time the air leaves my lungs without warning.
I cry out again and fall to the side. I wrap my arms around my middle, just trying to protect myself. I didn’t see this coming. Should I have? Did he give me warning signs?
Ian pushes me flat onto my back with that same foot. He leans over me, a scowl marring his face.
“I meant what I said before.” He raises his eyebrow, daring me to remember.
I don’t. There are so many awful things he’s said that I’ve pushed out of my mind.
“You’re nothing to anyone here. You’re a girl from a trash family, and you’re so fucking out of place. You should leave before someone worse comes along.”
I watch him walk away from my fetal position on the ground. I blink rapidly as the tears come once more.
I’m so fucking sick of crying.
I spit on my arm, scrubbing at it furiously, but it’s permanent marker. It holds fast. I can’t even see the word anymore, my vision is so blurry.
My throat burns. My arm throbs. My stomach is on fire.
I curl further into a ball, giving in to the misery rattling around my chest. A sob bursts out of me, the tears falling faster. They puddle in the crook of my eye and spill over, dripping to the dirt and pine needles my face is pressed to.
I can’t face Caleb now, or even Robert. I can’t walk into school like this.
Can I stay here?
I pant and lie there and contemplate screaming.
How long I’m here, I don’t know. My eyes close, and I just try to make myself breathe normally. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. Spit out the dirt. Inhale, exhale.
A branch snaps, and suddenly Caleb is there.
“Oh my God, Margo.” His voice is pure worry.
I can’t move. My muscles are locked, stiff. My stomach is agony, and so is my throat. I couldn’t even pull down my sleeve to cover the evidence of Ian’s more noticeable cruelty.
Caleb gently moves my wrists away from my body.
He takes in the tears on my cheeks, and God knows what else. I stare into his eyes. Maybe he’ll take the pain away for good. Set me free.
In one motion, I’m lifted into the air. I cry out but wrap my arms around his neck so he doesn’t put me down. Ever perceptive, he pauses.
“Who did this to you, baby?” His tone promises violence, and my heart sings with the need for vengeance.
No matter what I’ve done, I didn’t deserve this .
I try to inch closer to him. My face in his neck, my arms locked around his shoulders. He walks carefully, mindful that every step jostles me.
“Ian,” I whisper in his ear.
His exhale is loud and sharp.
“I’m going to kill him.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “He’ll pay for this, baby.”
There’s something to be said about having my own personal monster. I know he’ll avenge me.
He puts me in his car. Tells me to stay. Locks me in and disappears back into the school.
Maybe he’ll go hunt down Ian. Or maybe he’s finding Robert?
My mouth still tastes like blood; the coppery taste never quite left.
I focus on my knees. They’re a bit scraped up, but I don’t know when that happened. There’s dirt on my legs. The pantyhose we wear with our skirts, part of our uniform, are ripped on my calf. When I move, dirt falls from my shirt. My eyes keep filling with tears. I make fists out of my hands, my nails pinching my palms.
I blink furiously.
Caleb returns, tossing something into the backseat. He slides in behind the wheel and looks over at me, then jerks back to face forward. “Just hold on.”
We go to Eli’s house. Maybe it’s because Caleb doesn’t want me to see his parents and Eli’s are away—I don’t ask. I don’t really want to see his parents or go back to that house either.
He comes around and opens my door, scooping me up. In silence, he carries me into the house and down to the basement. It’s vaguely familiar down here. There’s a couch and a television mounted to the wall, a bed in the far corner.
He sets me on the edge of the bed and kneels next to me.
“I’m thinking there’s more to this than your arm,” he whispers. “Am I right?”
I nod.
He unbuttons my shirt, slowly pushing it off my shoulders. It falls behind me, and he leans back slightly. He presses his lips together, rage flickering over his face like candlelight.
I follow his gaze down.
My stomach is already a map of bruises. I’m surprised they showed up so fast.
He traces one. “Did he kick you?”
I force myself to nod again.
“I’m going to kill him,” he repeats. His eyes meet mine. “What else?”
I touch my throat.
“Fuck.”
He lifts my arm.
Ian’s teeth left a red, angry mark. And right above it, the word I couldn’t bring myself to read: whore .
“I’m sorry,” I say over the lump in my throat. “I’m so s?—”
Caleb leans forward and kisses me.
It’s infinitely sweeter than the emotions I know he’s feeling. I taste his guilt, and I want to cry again.
“Do not apologize.” His voice is low. “You’re staying here tonight.”
My eyes widen. It’s against the rules , I almost say. The lump in my throat blocks all noise, but he reads my mind.
“Fuck the rules, Margo. You’re staying.”
He storms off. The door to the basement slams closed, and then I’m left alone with my silence.
My breath hitches. It hurts to inhale; it hurts to move… I examine my arm.
We need to clean the bite. Get the marker off.
Whore .
It mocks me. My mother. My past.
I scratch at it. There’s dirt under my nails, too.
I notice it with vague detachment. In fact, I’m feeling rather removed from it all. I mindlessly scratch at the writing, trying to get the ink out of my skin.
Caleb comes back. He tucks his phone into his pocket and rushes over, grabbing my wrists. “Margo.”
He hauls me up, ever so gently, and carries me into the bathroom. He sets me on the counter, flicking on the light.
I wince when he takes my wrist and pulls my arm straight. I’ve managed to gouge my arm. Blood trickles down my hand, dripping off my finger.
“We’ll get it off,” he mutters. “I told Robert something bad happened. I ran out of his class when you didn’t show up.”
There’s guilt in his eyes.
I felt it on his lips. That was one thing, but seeing it?
Not ready for that.
I quickly look away, focusing on his shoulder.
“He said the way to get to you was through me.” My voice is raspy. I don’t have to tell him I’m not talking about Robert. “I’m your soft spot.”
He doesn’t react.
I keep my attention on his face. He soaks a washcloth in warm, soapy water, and runs it over my arm. I let him care for me. God knows I can’t do it myself.
He takes his time cleaning my arm. And then he runs the washcloth over my shoulders, up my neck. Down my chest. He unclips my bra, tossing it over his shoulder. Re-soaks the washcloth.
Water runs down my body, and I shiver.
He washes away Ian’s harshness. His hand on my arm, around my throat. His Italian fucking leather loafer in my stomach.
And when Caleb’s done, he steps between my legs and kisses me softer than I could’ve imagined.
But… we’re not meant to be soft.
I lean into him, stifling my moan of pain. He holds me back, hands featherlight on my shoulders.
“Kiss me like you mean it,” I demand.
He hesitates. “You’re hurt. The responsible thing would be to take you to the hospital.”
“Tomorrow. Tonight, you can make me forget. Please.”
Caleb’s lips part. I press forward, catching his lower lip in my teeth.
And.
I.
Tug.
He lets out a groan.
But… he doesn’t give in like I hoped. Instead, he pulls back, shooting me a look.
“You’re trouble.” He shakes his head and motions for me to stand. His gaze goes to my chest.
I forgot I was shirtless.
Slowly, I bring my arm up and cover my breasts.
He frowns, but for once, he doesn’t argue. He goes to his dresser, fishing around in a drawer for half a second before he’s back with a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. His dresser because he lives here… in Eli Black’s home.
I’ve been down here before. Drunk, delirious, half-unconscious.
I take the clothes he offers and bring the shirt up to my nose. I don’t know why I do it with him watching me. Maybe I secretly like keeping him off guard.
Maybe it isn’t a secret.
His lips twitch when I inhale.
It smells like him. His cologne. I slip the shirt on, the fabric concealing my face as I raise my arms. It hides my wince. He leans against the doorframe. I drop my skirt and slide his shorts on. If I wasn’t hurt, I’d be enjoying this more.
As it is, Lenora and Robert are probably going to kill me.
“Did you tell Robert after you found me?”
We both sit on the couch. There’s light coming in through the narrow windows toward the top of the basement walls. The windows are ground level. The curtains are open. I forgot, momentarily, that it’s still daytime.
He grimaces. “I actually called Eli. He’s going to have Riley talk to Lenora. But I told Robert in school that something was wrong, and I was going to track you down.”
“I should get my phone. Make sure Riley’s okay with… lying.”
“I think you need rest,” he murmurs.
He puts his arm around me, and I lean my head on his shoulder. He turns on the television, some mindless show about an international race, and we both kind of zone out. Every once in a while, he leans over and wipes a tear from my cheek.
I don’t know why I’m still crying.
“Painkillers.” He jumps up minutes or hours later. “I should’ve thought of that. Are you hungry?”
It feels like my internal organs went through a meat grinder.
I shake my head, and he frowns.
“Soup?” he asks.
“I’ll try.” The truth is, I might throw up. It could go either way.
He returns with ibuprofen and a bowl of chicken noodle soup for me, and a sandwich for him. I sip the broth so he’ll stop staring at me.
Boys eat a lot. I knew that in the back of my mind from the past. Temporary foster brothers, boys at other schools I went to. But seeing Caleb inhale a sandwich, while I can barely keep down broth? With his physique, it just isn’t fair.
He’s got abs. The V that girls rave about. A trim waist and muscles . Hell, his face is gorgeous, too, but it’s the body that sells the whole package.
And he’s sitting next to me . How’d that happen?
“When’s the other shoe going to drop?” I ask.
He blinks. “What?”
“This is nice. Like, you’re being nice . Something is bound to go wrong.”
He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t have to go wrong.”
I straighten as much as I can. “So, what? We’ll live happily ever after and get married and have babies?—”
“Whoa,” he says, taking the bowl from my hands. A little had sloshed over the edge onto my fingers. “I think you’re afraid.”
I jerk back. “Afraid of what?”
“Happiness?”
“Do you even like me?”
I think he may even love you. Except, Ian’s voice in my head is the last thing I want to hear.
I hit my temple with the heel of my palm. Once. Twice. It’s automatic. The urge to get him out of my memory is startlingly strong.
He may even love you.
It’s on fucking repeat. I smack my head, my ears. Anything to forget Ian Fletcher’s voice.
“Margo,” Caleb says. “Stop.”
He grabs my wrists, but it isn’t enough.
One meltdown just became two.
I wrench myself away, almost falling off the couch, and then…
Caleb moves too fast. Faster than my mind can comprehend.
He stretches himself out on top of me, pinning me to the couch. He catches both of my wrists, yanking them up over my head.
It pulls on my stomach, my abs, and I cry out.
He doesn’t relent, though. This is the Caleb I know—the Caleb I deserve. His face is angry. Hell, furious. He leans down, his hips digging into mine.
“You don’t get to beat yourself up,” he whispers. “You don’t get to be cruel to yourself.”
“I can’t?—”
“I don’t know what you think you can’t fucking do,” he growls.
His face is right over mine. Our legs are tangled together. His hands hold my wrists, but I can barely feel it.
Even when he’s angry, he’s gentle.
I meet his gaze.
“Face it, Margo. You’re a lot stronger than you think.”
I shift my hips.
He smirks. “You trying to proposition me?”
“It would be a good distraction.” I sigh.
“Is that what you want? Just a distraction?”
I ponder that. No , I don’t think I want just a distraction.
The answer must be written on my face, because his expression clears. He releases me and hops up. “What you need is sleep.”
I glance out the window. Sometime between us sitting and now, the sun set. “Is it even eight o’clock yet?”
He scoffs. “Does it matter? You’re hurt. Sleep will help you heal.”
I push myself up and walk toward the bed. There’s a picture on the dresser of Caleb and Eli. It occurs to me that I’ve accepted his living situation far too easily. Questions bubble up—the why and when most urgent.
I face him. “How long have you lived here?”
He pauses.
Him being here full time would explain the sheets covering the furniture at his house. But then… what about his parents?
He touches his throat. “The basement is mine, yes. If and when I ever need it.”
“You took me here when I was drunk.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, baby, but you kind of have a bad reaction to my house.”
I shudder. I do .
“Bed.” He looks pointedly at the mattress.
I climb in and lie down, pulling the blanket up to my chin. It smells like him, the same as the shirt. I almost bring it up again—why he’s living here, why he’s being nice—but I can’t do it.
He crawls in beside me, lying flat on his back. His eyes close.
“Sleep,” he says.
If I close my eyes, I might see him .
Caleb exhales and tucks me into his side. I cling to him and force my eyes shut.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair.
I relax. And eventually, I sleep.