Crescendo (Hush, Hush #2)

Crescendo (Hush, Hush #2) Page 23

Patch said nothing.

“Tomorrow night, then,” Marcie said. She paused and continued in a velvety voice, “It’s not like you have somewhere else to be. I know Nora broke up with you.” Patch’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“I heard she’s with Scott Parnel now. You know, the new guy.

He’s cute, but she traded down.”

“I don’t really want to talk about Nora.”

“Good, because neither do I. I want to talk about us.”

“I thought you had a boyfriend.”

“The key word in that sentence is had.” Patch took a short right, bouncing the Jeep into Marcie’s driveway. He didn’t cut the engine. “Good night, Marcie.” She stayed in her seat a moment, then laughed. “You’re not going to walk me to the door?”

“You’re a strong, capable girl.”

“If my daddy’s watching, he won’t be happy,” she said, reaching over to straighten Patch’s collar, her hand lingering longer than was appropriate.

“He’s not watching.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me.”

Marcie lowered her voice further, sultry and smooth. “You know, I really admire your will power. You keep me guessing, and I like that. But let me make one thing perfectly clear. I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t like messy, complicated things.

I don’t want hurt feelings, confusing signals, or jealousy—I just want fun. I’m looking for a good time. Think about it.” For the first time, Patch turned to face Marcie. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said at last.

From her profile, I saw Marcie smile. She leaned across the console and gave Patch a slow, hot kiss. He started to pull back, then stopped. At any moment, he could have broken the kiss off, but he didn’t.

“Tomorrow night,” Marcie murmured, pulling away at last.

“Your place.”

“Your dress,” he told her, gesturing at the damp heap on the floor.

“Wash it and give it back to me tomorrow night.” She pushed her way out of the Jeep and ran up to her front door, where she slipped inside.

My arms went slack around Patch’s neck. I felt too slapped by what I’d seen to form a single word. It was as if he’d thrown a bucket of ice water on me. My lips were swol en from the roughness of his kiss, my heart just as inflamed.

Patch was in my dream. We were sharing it together.

Somehow it was real. The whole idea was eerily surreal, bordering on impossible, but it had to be true. If he wasn’t here, if he hadn’t injected himself quietly and stealthily into my dream, I couldn’t have touched his scars and been catapulted into his memory.

But I had. The memory was living, valid, and all too real.

Patch could tell by my reaction that whatever I’d seen wasn’t good. His arms bracketed my shoulders, and he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “What did you see?” he asked quietly.

The sound of my heart pounded between us.

“You kissed Marcie,” I said, biting my lip hard to stal the tears welling up.

He dragged his hands down his face, then squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Tell me it’s a mind game. Tell me it’s a trick. Tell me she has some kind of power over you, that you don’t have any choice when it comes to being with her.”

“It’s complicated.”

“No,” I said with a fierce shake of my head. “Don’t tell me it’s complicated. Nothing is complicated anymore—not after everything we’ve been through. What do you even hope to get out of a relationship with her?”

His eyes flicked to mine. “Not love.”

A certain emptiness gnawed its way inside me. All the pieces came together, and I suddenly understood. Being with Marcie was about cheap satisfaction. Self-satisfaction. He really did see us as conquests. He was a player. Every girl was a new challenge, a short-term hookup to broaden his horizons.

He found success in the art of seduction. He didn’t care about the middle or end of a story— only the beginning. And just like all the other girls, I’d made the huge mistake of falling in love with him. The moment I did, he ran. Well, he’d never have to worry about Marcie confessing her love. The only person she loved was herself.

“You make me sick,” I said, my voice trembling with accusation.

Patch crouched down, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

“Why did you come? To fool around behind the archangels’ backs? To hurt me more than you already have?” I didn’t wait for an answer. Reaching for my neck, I yanked at the silver chain he’d given me days ago. It snapped free at the back of my neck hard enough that I should have winced, but I was in too much pain to notice a little more. I should have made him take the chain back the day I called it quits between us, but I realized a little late that up until this moment, I hadn’t given up hope. I’d still believed in us. I’d clung to the belief that there was still a way to cut a deal with the stars that would bring Patch back to me.

What an utter waste.

I flung the chain at him. “And I want my ring back.” His dark eyes stayed settled on me a moment longer, then he bent and scooped up his shirt. “No.”

“What do you mean no? I want it back!”

“You gave it to me,” he said quietly, but not gently.

“Well, I changed my mind!” My face was flushed, my whole body hot with rage. He was keeping the ring because he knew how much it meant to me. He was keeping it, because despite his rise in stature to guardian angel, his soul was just as black his rise in stature to guardian angel, his soul was just as black as it had been the day I met him. And the biggest mistake I’d ever made was fooling myself into believing otherwise. “I gave it to you when I was stupid enough to think I loved you!” I thrust out my hand. “Give it back. Now.” I couldn’t stand the thought of losing my dad’s ring to Patch. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to keep the one tangible reminder I had of real love.

Ignoring my request, Patch walked out.

I opened my eyes.

I clicked on the lamp, my vision returning to full color. I sat up, a hot flash of adrenaline warming my skin. Reaching for my neck, I felt for Patch’s silver chain, but it wasn’t there. I swept my hand across the wrinkled sheets, thinking it had fall en off while I slept.

But the chain was gone.

The dream was real.

Patch had discovered a way to visit me while I slept.

CHAPTER 11

MONDAY AFTER SCHOOL, VEE DROPPED ME off at the library. I took a moment outside the entrance to call my mom for our daily check-in. As usual, she told me work was keeping her busy, and I told her school was doing the same thing for me.

Inside, I took the elevator to the media lab on the third floor, checked my e-mail, browsed Facebook, and scanned Perez Hilton. Just to torture myself, I Googled the Black Hand again.

The same links popped up. I hadn’t really expected anything new, had I? Finally, with nowhere left to procrastinate, I flipped open my chemistry text and resigned myself to studying.

It was late by the time I called it quits to go hunt down a vending machine. Out the library’s west-facing windows, the sun was tucked deep in the horizon, and night was closing in fast. I bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs, feeling the need for a little exercise. I’d been sitting so long, my legs were beginning to tingle with sleep.

In the lobby, I fed a few dollars to the vending machine and carried pretzels and a can of cranberry juice back to the third floor. When I returned to the media lab, Vee was sitting on my desk, her glossy yellow high heels propped on my chair. Her expression was a mix of smug amusement and annoyance.

She held a small black envelope in the air, caught between two of her fingers.

“This is for you,” she said, tossing the envelope on the desk.

“And so’s this.” She held out a paper bakery bag, rolled at the neck. “Thought you might be hungry.”

Judging by the disdain in Vee’s expression, I had a bad feeling about the card, and took the opportunity to give my attention to what was inside the bag. “Cupcakes!” Vee grinned. “The bakery lady told me they’re organic. Not sure how you make an organic cupcake, and not sure why they cost extra, but there you go.”

“You’re my hero.”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Thiry minutes, tops.”

She laid the keys to the Neon next to my backpack. “Rixon and I are going to grab something to eat, so you’ll have to be your own chauffeur tonight. I parked the Neon in the underground garage. Row B. I only have a fourth of a tank left, so don’t go crazy.”

I took the keys, trying to ignore the unpleasant sting in my heart that I instantly recognized as jealousy. I was jealous of Vee’s new relationship with Rixon. Jealous of her dinner plans.

Jealous that she was now closer to Patch than I was, because even though Vee had never mentioned it, I was sure she bumped into Patch when she was with Rixon. For all I knew, the three of them watched movies together at night. The three of them, lounging on Rixon’s sofa, while I sat in the farmhouse alone. I desperately wanted to ask Vee about Patch, but the alone. I desperately wanted to ask Vee about Patch, but the truth of the matter was, I couldn’t. I’d broken up with him. I’d made my bed, and it was time to lie in it.

Then again, how was one little inquiry going to hurt?

“Hey, Vee?”

She turned back at the door. “Yeah?”

I opened my mouth, and that was when I remembered my pride. Vee was my best friend, but she also had a big mouth. If I asked about Patch, I risked him hearing about it secondhand.

He’d find out just how hard a time I was having getting over him.

I pulled on a smile. “Thanks for the cupcakes.”

“Anything for you, babe.”

After Vee left, I peeled back the paper wrapping on one of the cupcakes and ate alone in the quiet mechanical hum of the lab.

I did another half hour of homework, and ate two more cupcakes, before I finally dared a look at the black envelope sitting at the edge of my vision. I knew I couldn’t avoid it all night.

Breaking the seal, I shook out a black card with a small heart embossed at the center. The word sorry was scripted across it.

The card was scented with a bittersweet perfume. I raised the card to my nose and breathed deeply, trying to the place the strangely intoxicating scent. The smell of burned fruit and chemical spices stung all the way down the back of my throat. I opened the card.

I was a jerk last night. Forgive me?

Automatically I slid the card an arm’s length away. Patch. I didn’t know what to make of his apology, but I didn’t like the commotion it caused inside me. Yes, he’d been a jerk. And did he think a card from the drugstore could negate it? If so, he was underestimating the damage he’d caused. He’d kissed Marcie.

Kissed her! And not only that, but he’d invaded my dreams. I had no idea how he’d done it, but when I woke in the morning, I knew he’d been there. It was more than a little unnerving. If he could invade the privacy of my dreams, what else could he do?