Jennifer Armentrout - Don’t Look Back

Scott smirked. “You’re forgetting one important little factoid about that. Dad works for Mom’s side of the family. If they get a divorce he’ll be out, and our grandfather has enough pull to make it very difficult for him to get another job at that kind of level in a funding firm.”

“Damn,” I whispered.

“Yep. I’d rather be homeless and living in a box if I were him, but Dad likes his lifestyle. He didn’t give a shit about what other people thought when we were younger, but now … he knows Mom does, so he’ll put up with anything to keep her.”

I sat back. “Oh.”

After that, Scott and I parted ways. I went back upstairs and closed the door behind me. Exhausted from everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, I just wanted to sleep. My brain was still slowly turning over all that I’d learned, and even with the memory of the pictures resurfacing, I knew there was still more to my relationship with Del. That there had to be a good reason why I’d stayed with him after something like that. I could think of a few people who could give me brutal insight on our relationship, but outside of them, those who’d actually talk to me about it was limited.

Had Del and I been on the same path as our parents? Marrying because it was expected and for money? That didn’t make sense, because both of us would have access to our own funds.

I headed into the bathroom and picked up my toothbrush, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. Dark smudges had blossomed under my eyes. As I spurted a dab of toothpaste on the toothbrush, I looked away for a second, maybe two.

Cassie stared back at me, with mirroring shadows under her eyes.

Gasping, I jerked back. The darkness under her eyes spread across otherwise flawless cheeks, following the path of her veins, as if someone had injected her with ink. I couldn’t look away as she opened her mouth in a silent scream that raised the tiny hairs all over my body.

Not real . This can’t be real . I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to ten, and then reopened them. The image in the mirror was my own.

Breathing heavily, I planted my hands on the sink and dipped my head, dizzy and nauseated. Several moments passed before I felt sure I wasn’t going to vomit.

I tossed the toothbrush into the basin and left the bathroom, shaken to the core. Pulling back the covers, I started to climb in when I saw the edge of something yellow sticking out from underneath the music box on the nightstand.

Heart tumbling over itself, I sat down and reached over, picking up the box. A yellow piece of paper folded into a triangle stared back at me. A huge part of me wanted to put the box back down and cover it completely.

Instead, with my breath caught in my chest, I picked up the note and then set the music box down. My fingers were numb as I unfolded it, revealing the childish scribble.

Don’t let him know you remember anything.

Don’t let him know you remember anything?

Let who know? The question kept me up most of the night even though I was exhausted. And there was still a bigger question—who was leaving the notes and why?

When morning came, I could barely pull myself out of bed and take a shower. The ride to school with Carson and Scott was quiet, but I figured that wouldn’t last long.

And I was right.

Whispers and long looks greeted me the moment I stepped through the double doors. News of my accident and subsequent barn-party fail had reached those who hadn’t been at the party. Everyone seemed to know about the guy in the backseat who couldn’t have possibly been there.

When I headed to my locker, I spotted Del at the end of the hall. He looked as if he’d gone toe-to-toe with a professional boxer and lost.

His entire left eye was swollen shut, the skin covered with a purplish-blue bruise that looked painful. He was getting a lot of stares, too.

Keeping my head down, I quickly grabbed my morning books and hurried in the opposite direction.

I didn’t make it.

“Sammy,” Del called out, not too far behind me.

With my heart in my throat, I kept walking. The last thing I needed was a scene. People had enough reasons to talk about me.

“Damn it,” he grunted, catching up to me by the stairwell. Grabbing my arm, he pulled me to a stop. “Are you just going to ignore me?”

I turned around, sucking in a sharp breath. Up close, the black eye was worse, but there was something glinting in his one good eye. Something that chilled my insides, made me want to run.

“We need to talk,” he said, voice low.

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He leaned in, his head inches from mine. There was a minty scent on his breath. “You at least owe me a chance to explain, especially after what your brother did.”

Any feelings of dread I had were quickly replaced by irritation, and I tore my arm free, not caring what people thought. I owed him? “I don’t owe you anything, Del.”

He exhaled. “I know you’re mad, and I get that, but all I want to do is talk to you. You can’t just break up with me and have that be it. You don’t get to make a call like that without giving me the chance to fix it.”

My mouth gaped as I took a step back, hitting the edge of a glass case full of plaques and metals. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe Scott shouldn’t have hit you, but this is my choice. I don’t need your permission.”

His jaw popped out. “That’s not what I meant. I know you don’t need my permission. You’re twisting what I’m saying.”

Across from us, a few kids had their phones out, texting away. My heart sank a little, knowing that by the beginning of first period, this would be all over the damn school. “Del, I don’t want to talk about this. Maybe later—”

“Later? You promise?” He grabbed ahold of my hand again. “Tell me you promise, and I’ll believe you. Okay? Because out of everyone, I have your back, Sammy. You just don’t realize that.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The desperation he threw off covered my skin like a slimy, dirty substance. Why was he so frantic to salvage this relationship? It wasn’t great before, and it sure as hell wasn’t something worth fighting for now that I’d lost my memories.

“Is everything okay here?” Mrs. Messer’s voice came out of nowhere. “Samantha?”

Del dropped my hand, and I turned, swallowing. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

Her dark eyes settled on him. “And you?”

He nodded, taking a step back. “Everything is great.”

“Then I suggest you get to class,” she responded coolly.

With him facing me, Del’s one-sided smile looked wrong with the black eye. “Later.”

I said nothing as he pivoted and stalked off. The icky feeling was still coating my skin, seeping through. Clenching the strap on my bag, I shuddered.

“Is everything really okay, Samantha?” Mrs. Messer asked softly, coming to stop beside me.

Nodding, I worked to keep my voice level. “Yes. We were just talking.”

Her gaze didn’t miss anything. “Is the condition of his face something I should be concerned about?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I have to go.”

Mrs. Messer nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

There was no escaping our meetings, but it was better than the alternative—an honest-to-God real psychiatrist. Hurrying to homeroom, I slid into my seat seconds before the bell rang. The first two classes weren’t bad. It was the next class, English, that I was dreading.

Veronica was waiting for me when I walked in and headed for where I’d been sitting since I returned to school. She stuck out one thin arm, blocking me. “You can’t sit here.”