Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance Page 5

“Why not?”

  “Because as soon as I do, I’ll remember why we’re so good together.”

  I lift my hand, placing a finger under her chin. As I move her head in my direction, her eyelids clench shut.

  “And that’s a bad thing because?”

  “You’re a wild river, Breaker Davenport. You have the capacity to drown me, bury me so deep beneath the water, I’ll never reach the surface.”

  “I’m also your last chance at a ride worth going on. He isn’t what you want, and he sure as hell will never be what you need, Delaney.”

  “That’s for me to decide.” She breaks away from my touch and paces the length of her room.

  “You’re right. It’s always been your decision, but don’t think for a single second that I’m going to sit here and not try to win the little bit of your heart that you’re holding outside of my grasp.”

  “A boy like you doesn’t need a heart like mine, Breaker.” Her words are full of conviction, but her eyes scream for me not to believe her.

  “We’ll see about that.” Without giving her a chance to drive me away, I lean forward and kiss her. It’s the quiet kind of kiss, and as I pull away, her eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Tears she’ll end up fighting until she finally gives in, if I have any say.

  Always wanting the last word, I grab the doorknob, but Delaney ducks in front of me. She thrusts her arms around my shoulders, hugging me close to her body.

  “Sometimes at night, when I close my eyes, I can see what could’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

  “But I did.” I tuck her messy loose hair behind her ear. She leans into my touch, resting her cheek in my hand. Her skin is cool against mine. As she melts into me, her spine straightens, taking her away from me.

  “I’ll be forever thankful for your selfishness, Breaker, because you saved me, but on the other side of the coin, things I saw in that room irreparably changed the foundation of who I am. I’m not the Delaney who followed you into the woods anymore, and I know how badly you want me to be that girl, but I’m never going to be her.” Delaney opens the door and pushes me out of her room. Before the door closes, she flashes a sad smile.

  I don’t waste any time. I’m not the guy who bangs down a door to prove something. There’s no point. Words mean nothing when actions don’t follow. I’m choosing to walk away, to let her believe what she wants, but like everything else, there comes a point when the world stills for us. Everything shuts up, no sounds exist, and our truth is thrust into our minds.

  Delaney’s moment is coming.

  No matter what she says between now and then, I’ll be there.

  Chapter Four

  Delaney

  “Where have you been, Palmer?” I yell across the second level of the library, earning glares and curses from the students at the tables.

  A sophomore girl calls me a whore as I pass. I circle the table and lean over, placing my face directly in hers.

  “Whore,” she repeats, an even bigger attitude in her tone this time.

  “That’s what I thought I heard, Trish.” A humorless laugh escapes my mouth. “Now, what should we do about it? Because last time I checked, you don’t know shit about me.” I tap the tip of her nose. “Now, next time you feel compelled to even look in my direction, let’s not forget whose family employs whose, okay?”

  “Tripp’s too good for you,” she whispers the second I’m not looking her in the eyes.

  Tripp DuPont’s name means something in this town. It doesn’t matter what academy a person attends. If they live in our city, they know the name, and they know the DuPont business.

  “Or maybe it’s the other way around, but that doesn’t matter, because whichever is true, there’s one thing I’m certain of.” I glance over my shoulder to see her and her friends giggling triumphantly.

  “And what’s that, whore?”

  “Oh, there’s that nasty name again, Trish.” I spin and grip her jaw before she can jerk away. “Maybe I am a whore. Maybe Tripp is too good for me. Even if those are true, you’re a washed-up bitch who has to pay those around you to believe this act.”

  “At least I’m not fucking two guys behind their backs.”

  “Sweetheart, you have that wrong.” I grin, happy to put this girl in her place. “They’re fully aware of each other.” I allow my face to fall, to seem sympathetic. “Are we jealous? Maybe your tits will come in by junior year, and someone will actually want to fuck you.”

  She yanks her face from my grip and jumps to her feet. “What did you say to me?”

  “You heard me, bitch.” I crowd her space, pressing my chest into Trish’s.

  A hand wraps around my arm, and I’m jerked backwards, left to stare at Palmer’s backpack bouncing around as she drags me between the bookshelves. I can’t stop myself from flashing a middle finger at the sophomore before I’m out of sight.

  Palmer tugs at my cheek. Her eyes are full of wonder and confusion.

  I smack her arm away. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Seeing if this is a mask, because the Delaney I know doesn’t get easily rattled.” Palmer laughs. “Not like that at least.” Her finger jabs at Trish and her cronies.

  “Good thing you were there to yank me away. I was ready to slap her.” I laugh, leaning against the stack.

  “What has you on edge this morning?” She smiles, but it slips when my eyes fall to the book in her hand.

  “What are you doing way back here?” I ask, trying hard to see the cover she clearly does not want me to see. I lurch forward and try to grab it.

  She yanks it away, holding it over her head. “It’s nothing.”

  I stand on my tiptoes and grasp enough of the cover to snatch it from her vise grip.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s literally nothing, Delaney.”

  “We don’t keep secrets, so what is this?”

  Palmer releases a deep breath and slips down the stacks until she’s seated across from me. She gestures for me to do the same, and when I’m sitting, I open the cover. It’s beaten up and ripped. This book has clearly been handled a lot, and if I were to guess, this is one of the oldest books in the library.

  On the title page, THE GAUNTLET is printed in large, black, bold lettering.

  “What’s The Gauntlet?” I ask, flipping to the next page.

  “I honestly don’t know much.” She shrugs as I look at her for answers. She’s either not going to give them to me, or she’s telling the truth about being clueless.

  My eyes skim page after page. Faded words in different handwritings fill the margins. Some entries have dates, while others don’t.

  “This is absolutely absurd. Who would partake in this kind of barbaric game?” I question, but Palmer remains silent. “Students at Glass Heart and Hollow Hill have a long history of calling gauntlets.” I recite what I’m reading. “How did I not know any of this history?”

  “Because it’s meant to stay secret.” Marek’s voice startles me so much, I slam the leather-bound cover closed and attempt to hide it. “No reason to try to be sneaky now.” He holds out his hand, and I offer him the book. He flips it open, running his hand over the margins. He doesn’t seem surprised by what he finds.

  “Why is it meant to stay secret?” I ask the obvious question.

  “When it first started, at the beginning when both academies opened, it was how things were handled. You had an argument? You handled it with a gauntlet. Two boys pined over the same girl? You called a gauntlet. You blamed someone for something? You demanded a gauntlet.” Marek sits across from me, joining Palmer.

  “Let’s visit the second one, please,” I demand.

  “If you blamed someone—”

  I cut him off with my hand held up.

  “No, not that one. The one before.” I circle a single finger, requesting he rewind his words.

  “Two boys pined over the same girl.” Each word is quiet and slow.

  “Bingo.” I point at him, my eyes wide.
“That’s the one. Care to explain why my best friend is searching out a book regarding a gauntlet”– I hold up air quotes– “and why you’re here saying it’s meant to stay a secret?”

  “They aren’t related.” Palmer rushes the words. She may be many things, but a good liar isn’t one of them.

  “Gauntlets are antiquated and outdated, not to mention completely barbaric, so why is this relevant? Anyway, it doesn’t seem like one has been called since the seventies.” My attempt to make sense of this whole thing causes unease to settle into my stomach.

  “The nineties, actually,” Marek corrects me. “The last one was called in the nineties when a boy from Hollow Hill was accused of raping a Glass Heart freshman at an end of the year party.”

  “Why am I not surprised that taking things into our own hands has been a long running tradition on this campus?” I roll my eyes. “Now, explain why you were reading about it?” I stare at my best friend. “And try not to lie to me again because you’re really bad at it.”

  “Well . . .” She looks at Marek for assistance.

  “She’s going to find out eventually,” Marek whispers.

  “Spill it, you two.” I kick at their feet. “It’s about me, right?”

  “I wanted to tell you,” Palmer says, sincerity in her eyes.

  “She wasn’t meant to know but keeping secrets at the glass house is nearly impossible. We didn’t want any of you to know until it was time.” Marek glances between us, begging us not to overreact.

  “Time for what?” Palmer and I say in unison, as if we share a damn brain. Most days we do. What worries me worries her. What plagues her mind takes over every ounce of my attention.

  “Breaker didn’t want to tell you until the first gauntlet was called.” Marek glances away, but quickly jumps in front of me when I go to find Breaker. “Nope, do not do this.”

  “Did you honestly think I would sit here and allow this to go down?”

  “Yeah, basically.” Marek helps Palmer off the floor. “It’s not like you have much choice. It is what it is, whether you jump on board or not.”

  “I have no say in this, then? Those two get to set up some wicked game, play games, for what?” I realize my voice has risen, and I’m gaining an audience.

  Marek softly grabs my arm and ushers me into the shadows, with Palmer following us. “This is for you, but more importantly, it’s for the two of them.”

  “This is so fucked up, Marek. You know that, right?” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to convince my nerves to slow down. My skin crawls at the very idea of a gauntlet. “Can you let me go, please?”

  His eyes widen when he realizes his hand is wrapped around my forearm. “Sorry, but you need to realize that no matter what you say, this is happening. I don’t like it just as much as you.”

  “So, convince them not to do it,” I say.

  “Convince Breaker not to fight for you and prove he’s not afraid of Tripp DuPont?” Marek laughs manically.

  “Is there more to this than me?” I ask, hearing the doubt and understanding in Marek’s voice.

  “Tripp called this gauntlet. Bet you didn’t suspect that from your precious little boyfriend, huh?” Marek slams his open palm on the shelves behind my head. “You want it to stop, ask your little boyfriend to end it, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m telling Breaker to not bury Tripp.”

  I rush past Marek, angry that he’s willing to allow this to happen. “You have the ability to stop this. I don’t want this to happen. Not for me.”

  “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but even I can’t stop this from happening. Settle in and enjoy the damn show because it’s going to be good.” Marek wraps his arm around Palmer who appears small next to his large stature.

  “What if something horrible happens?” I ask, watching them for a reaction I can use to get what I want.

  “Doesn’t it always?” Marek’s unmoved. Why am I not surprised? These boys may be used to destruction, but I refuse to sit around and watch any more blood be shed.

  “Delaney!” Palmer groans as I walk away from them.

  “I’m going to fucking kill him.” I shake my head, even more frustrated than before.

  “Well, that’s one way to stop the gauntlet.” She laughs, but it’s filled with sarcasm. Reminding me of what I already know about this impossible situation. “I know you’re upset, but I don’t see any way around this.”

  “We’ll see about that.” I head out of the library without looking back.

  Trish and her friends whisper and snicker as I storm past them. A couple of underclassmen talking shit about me is the least of my worries when a secret gauntlet is being planned.

  ******

  As I storm across campus, I’m stopped a few times. First by a group of girls asking if Breaker and I are a thing. I somehow resist rolling my eyes. Then my first period teacher interrupts my anger, wondering where I was this morning. Having no real excuse, I lie.

  “Sorry, period cramps,” I say, offering an apologetic smile.

  One thing I’ve learned is that male teachers cringe when a female student mentions anything female related. They take our word as gospel.

  In a voice filled with discomfort, he reminds me we have an exam on Friday, one I’m totally not prepared for.

  “Oh, and, Miss Chambers?” Mr. Calhoun clears his throat and tugs on his tie. “I’m sorry to hear about the mess going on with your family.”

  Nothing is more infuriating than an adult smiling at me like I’m a little child, hoping to soften the blow of what they’ve laid at my feet.

  “My parents’ divorce is already final, Mr. Calhoun. No need for an apology.” I nod, hoping to be done with this conversation.

  When my father’s affair became public knowledge, everyone couldn’t wait to see what my response would be. Unlucky for them, I didn’t have much of a reaction. His affairs are nothing new. He was a playboy when he met my mother. She happened to be the one who locked him down with a baby who grew up to be a young lady. Now I get to deal with the sad looks from classmates every time my parents’ mess is plastered over the internet.

  “Delaney, have you not checked your phone today?” Mr. Calhoun’s mouth flattens when I shake my head. “You may want to call home.” He walks off, leaving me in the middle of campus.

  I take out my phone and see several missed calls. Three from my father. Twelve from my mother. Two from Tripp. There are also thirty missed text messages I’ve received in the last ten minutes.

  “What the hell?” I open a search and type in my parents’ names, and in a flash, information bombards me.

  Love child? More than a simple affair? Paid off? Secret money in daughter’s name? Embezzlement?

  It’s too much information to process. My chest rises and falls with short breaths that grow harsher with each one.

  When I call my dad, it rings and rings several times before clicking over to voice mail. I don’t bother leaving a message.

  The same happens when I try my mom, while walking through campus with no true direction. I’m close to the gate when I hear the first click. I’ve been going to events since I was old enough to walk up and down the red carpets. A camera lens clicking isn’t new to me.

  The flashes make my eyes water. Rows of photographers line the metal fence that surrounds our campus. Security is trying to shove them away, but they’re outnumbered.

  “Get in!” Breaker yells.

  I twist towards his voice. His truck idles beside the curb, and he slings open the door, waiting for me. A glance around proves I have no choice. A photographer makes a break for me, pushing through the small line of security. Racing forward, I dive into the passenger seat, slamming the door as Breaker rolls up the window, blocking me from the rogue photographer.

  “You good?” Breaker asks, racing through the gate. He checks his mirrors. I don’t need to look to know a line of photographers is chasing after us.

  “Not really,” I finally answer, drawing my legs up tig
ht to my chest.

  Not concerned with where Breaker is taking me, I settle into the seat. He doesn’t ask me any questions. His eyes barely leave the windshield as he drives in and out of the streets in a weird, random pattern.

  “I don’t think they’re following us,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

  “How could he do this?” I whisper.

  “Maybe there’s an explanation.” Breaker is always the optimist.

  I don’t need an explanation for my father’s indiscretions. If it’s made it to the newspapers and online gossip blogs, my guess is that everything is true. The love child is no surprise. Hiding money and assets under my name is a whole different fuck you to our family.

  “What kind of father treats his own flesh and blood so carelessly?” I shake my head, kicking at the dashboard.

  Breaker doesn’t tell me to stop. Instead, he allows me to release my frustration on his car.

  “My father used to beat my mother,” Breaker whispers.

  “What?” My tone comes across as angry, but I correct myself, grabbing his hand. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “It’s not something I like to announce to the world.” He shrugs, taking a left into the state park.

  “For how long?” I forget my issues and give him my full attention.

  “Until the day she died.” He stops the truck beside the river.

  “He killed her?” I cover my mouth, afraid of the answer.

  “No, but he might as well have.” Breaker unbuckles and leans against the door but refuses to look at me.

  He toys with his rings, running his fingers over the edges of each one. He regrets telling me, not because he doesn’t trust me, but because his family isn’t something he likes to talk about.

  “Adults aren’t capable of handling themselves in a way that doesn’t totally screw over the ones they’re supposed to love,” I acknowledge.

  “It’s why I choose my family. The boys and Palmer, they’re my family. Always will be.”

  “What about me?” I ask, selfishly.

  “I think that depends on you, now, Delaney.”

  There’s no way to respond to that. I don’t have the answer he’s looking for.