Wicked Grind (Stark World #1)(70)

"Then you get it. At least some of it. How horrible it is now. How terrifying and painful it was then. And it all happened because I wasn't there. I was-"

I cut myself off; he nods. "You were with me."

I wipe away an errant tear and nod miserably. "Losing my virginity while Griffin almost lost his life."

He moves beside me and puts his arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as he strokes my hair and my back. "I get it," he says softly. "I do. But it wasn't your fault."

"It wouldn't have happened if I'd stayed."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But that only makes it horrible. It doesn't mean you're to blame. Me either, for that matter."

I pull back, surprised.

He exhales. "You must have blamed me, too. At least a little bit."

"Did I? I don't think so." And the truth is, I didn't. I made the decision to go. I broke the rules. I was a bad girl, just like my dad said. Wyatt was just being Wyatt. He tempted me, sure. But I'm the one who left my baby brother alone.

I look at him. "If you're thinking that I didn't call you because I was mad at you, that wasn't it. At first, I was scared. And in trouble. I didn't have phone privileges for months."

I hug my knees to my chest, remembering those awful days, my head filling with the memory of the sickly sweet smell of the burn ward, a combination of infection, flesh, and sterilization chemicals.

"I pretty much lived in the hospital. And even when I could call-well, how could I hold onto something good in my life when I was the one who did such a horrible thing?"

He takes my hand and squeezes it. "I get that. I do."

"I'm sorry. Truly. I never thought that me not calling would hurt you. I was too wrapped up in me. And later, when I did think about you, I was too ashamed to call."

His thumb brushes the back of my hand, the gentle sensation soothing me. "You thought about me?" he asks, and though there is a teasing lilt to his voice, I think I hear a whisper of hope.

"Yes," I admit, my mouth going dry as I meet his eyes. "All the time." 

I see a flare of heat in the pale gold of his eyes and wonder what I've ignited. But I'm proud of myself too. It's not exactly wild and crazy, but as far as cutting loose goes, that revelation might count as among my personal best.

"Me, too," he says, and I feel a nice little squeeze around my heart. "And you should know, I did try to find you. I even called your school, but you were gone."

"You did?"

He shrugs as if it was no big deal, when to me it's huge. "You said that first day that I didn't come after you. I guess I just wanted you to know that I tried."

"Thank you," I whisper.

For a moment, we just sit like that. Then he clears his throat and asks, "So how did you find out? About the fire, I mean."

"My dad. He found the address to the party. I'd left it in the pocket of my jeans. He walked in while you were getting me a soda. He called me a-a whore. He told me what happened."

"That lousy son-of-a-bitch." The anger in his voice is as sharp as a blade.

"And he said it was my fault. That I was bad, just like my mother had been, and because of that my brother almost died."

"Oh, baby." He takes my shoulders and turns me so that I'm facing him. "It wasn't your fault. You have to know that. And you weren't bad. You were a teenager. You went out. You disobeyed your parents, yeah. But Griffin was old enough to stay on his own. You coming to the party isn't the cause. And that's true even if we had a crystal ball and could prove he'd have been fine if you'd stayed with him."

I nod, sniffling. "I know all that. I do. Really. It's just-"

I shrug, then tell him what I so often tell myself. "Knowing it and believing it are two different things."

He makes a scoffing sound. "Your dad did one hell of a number on you."

I try to smile, but don't quite manage. "He had a lot of time to perfect the skill."

"I knew he was strict in Santa Barbara, but I didn't know-"

"It's because of my mom. My real mom, not Tessa. She had an affair. And I guess she and the guy were driving somewhere. And there was an accident when I was two. They both died, and the driver of the other car was also killed."

"And as you grew up, your dad told you that the accident happened and all those people died because your mom was bad. That she was a whore."

I conjure an ironic smile. "It's like you were sitting right next to me."

"All the more reason for you to come be my model."

I stretch my legs out in front of me and lean back, propped up by my arms. "How do you figure?"

"You say you get it. That you know your dad was full of it. You just don't believe it."