That wouldn’t be happening though. Right now, I needed to reign in my baser instincts and act like the mature adult I was supposed to be.
“So,” I started out, crossing my arms over my chest and mimicking Brandon’s stance. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Not really.”
The answer was surly, and as Brandon looked at his feet, I tried to forget the image of him slamming his hands beside Addison’s head.
“It wasn’t really a question. Stand up straight, and start talking, now.”
Brandon pushed off the lockers and stood up to his full height, which was a couple of inches shorter than my 6’4 frame. It was obvious he wanted to tell me to fuck off, but he was out of luck.
“We had a fight, okay?”
“Clearly, but why would you ever think it’s okay to treat a girl like that?”
“Like what? She likes it rough, just ask whoever she’s been fucking around with.”
“That’s quite enough, Mr. Williams.”
Brandon’s pride was wounded. I could see it in the slump of his shoulders and the way he wouldn’t look at me, and that right there was as effective as any punch in the mouth.
“Look, I don’t care what happened between you two.” That’s a fucking lie. I was more than happy they were over. “What I do care about is the safety of my students. You will not treat anyone that way. Do you hear me? And you especially will not slam a young lady up against a wall and yell at her, ever. That’s not how a man acts. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Brandon rolled his eyes, and I had the urge to slam him against a locker.
“You’re going to be suspended. Was it worth it? Get your stuff. We’re going to pay Principal Thomas a visit.”
I waited as he bent down to pick up his bag and heard him mumble, “Whatever.”
“What was that?” I demanded.
“I said whatever. She’s hot but totally fucked up in the head.”
I’d never considered myself a violent man, but as Brandon’s words penetrated my brain, a red haze clouded my judgment.
I strode forward two steps until he was back against the lockers. In a voice I barely recognized, I grated out, “You need to shut your mouth, right now. I don’t want to hear another word until we are in the main office, and when your suspension is over, you are to stay away from Addison Lancaster.”
Brandon’s eyes widened as he swallowed and nodded. I was out of line but not so far that it seemed unusual as far as I was concerned.
“Do I make myself clear?” I asked in a cool, calculated, and in my own mind, deadly fucking serious tone.
“Yes. Sir.”
“Good.”
Stepping aside, I watched Brandon march away in front of me, and I hoped like hell he understood to keep quiet, because I didn’t think I could listen to anything more without physically reacting.
Luckily for Brandon, he seemed to get the message.
Unfortunately for me, it fueled the fire to his kindling suspicion.
Present…
“Can I watch the news tonight?” I ask, making my way past Doc and into the common area.
“You can, but you won’t find what you’re looking for.”
I stop just inside the room and see several other residents of the Pine Groves establishment milling around and sitting on the couches.
“And what is that?”
Doc studies me in quiet contemplation.
“You forget how well I know you, Addison. You’re after answers, but they still don’t know anything.”
I push a stray piece of hair behind my ear as he asks, “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you know anything?”
I walk farther into the room, but before I’m out of hearing distance, I look back at the man I spend most of my days circling. I give him the hollow smile I’ve perfected while being in here. It’s my new failsafe and it gives nothing away as I finally give him the truth.
“No, I know nothing.”
Except, I think as I take a seat, that he’s gone.
Chapter Twenty
Present…
Fifteen days.
As I stand outside the library door, I take a moment to think. Doc had been right. Last night’s news told me nothing. Not one damn thing. Except how long I’d been here.
Funny, it feels more like fifteen years.
I grip the door handle in front of me as I press my forehead against the wood and close my eyes. I can hear the blood rushing around my ears and I try not to give in to the urge but there it is—one, two, three.
“I know you’re out there, Addison,” Doc’s voice calls to me from the other side of the door.
How? How does he know that I’m out here?
“I can hear you counting.”
Shit, I’m doing it out loud?
I turn the handle and push the door open to find Doc sitting at the table I’d been seated at the other day. I close the door behind me and look at the clock on the wall—3 p.m., our usual meeting time.
“Come in, come in.” He waves me forward.
I have no idea why he asked to meet me here today, but as I get closer, I see two large books open in front of him, and my curiosity is peaked. I move to the vacant seat and sit down.
“What are we doing here?” I ask when it’s clear he doesn’t plan to say much else.
Doc sits back in his seat, plants his fingers on the first book and spins it around until it’s facing me. I glance down and see a beautifully illustrated picture of the purple hooded flower, and I know immediately what it is. So does he.
We had this discussion the day he showed me the photo in his office.
“Aconite.”
My eyes flick up to connect with his, and I make sure they are devoid of any kind of emotion—after all, that’s what he’s trying to draw from me, a response.
“The Queen of Poisons.”
I sit silently, waiting for him to get to his point. It’s obvious he has one since he’s bringing it up again.
“But you already know this. What was it you told me it means?”
My heart is thundering inside my chest. Clicking his fingers as if he “got it,” he states, “ ‘Without struggle,’ that was it. As in, whoever ingests it wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight before they die.”
He knows what he’s doing. He’s pushing.
He’s prodding at me, waiting for me to react, and fuck…it’s close to working.
“Did you know that hunters used it to paralyze wolves? That was how it came by the name wolf’s bane. It’s fast, almost immediate, depending on the dose.” He quietly considers me as he pushes the book my way. “But sometimes it can take a couple of hours, as you already know.”
He sits back and waits as I look down at the page in front of me. I can feel the tears forming as I try to blink them back.
He wants me to talk. He’s trying to break me.
I wipe away a tear that escapes, and I place my hand on the page. I touch the image of the flower and then seek out Doc’s steady gaze. He slides the second book over to me.
“Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss. That’s the photo on your wall. The only thing you brought with you, other than your watch.”
My eyes drop to the second image, and I can hear the ever present—tick, tick, tock—as I stare at the black-and-white sculpture in the art history book.
Memories flood through me and threaten to overwhelm the tenuous hold I have on myself. A look, a kiss, a whisper in a voice that soothes…