Cursed

Chapter 25

The rest of Thanksgiving break didn’t seem real—everything was great. It was like I was in some fictional dreamworld and in the morning, I’d have to go back to my real life. And in a bizarre twist, on Sunday morning, Cromwell handed over the keys to my Jeep.

I lifted my head and stared down at Hayden. My fingers itched to touch him, but he looked so content in sleep I didn’t want to bother him. So I brushed my fingers over my lips instead. They felt swollen and plump. We’d kissed a lot before he carefully tucked me against his chest, a sweater and a sheet separating our flesh.

We’ve been kissing a lot. It seemed like that was all we did. Oh. Well. We didn’t just kiss.

We did other things. Like talk. Touch. Practice with plants. Kiss. Eat. Sleep. Practice with plants some more. Every night he snuck into my room, kind of like the way things had been in the cabin.

Ah, I did miss the cabin.

Hayden shifted, his arm curling around my hips, pulling me closer. I placed my hands on his chest so I didn’t topple right on top of him. Not that I would’ve minded, but we couldn’t go longer than a minute.

Which was an improvement over twenty seconds, but who knew if it was Hayden’s gift that had added the additional time?

There was no way to really test it unless I touched someone else.

“Out of the question,” I murmured, placing my cheek against his chest, where his heart beat. I closed my eyes and let out a little sigh.

The only thing we hadn’t done was talk about the accident. And I didn’t want to bring it up. My mind went back to the files in Cromwell’s office. I had no plans to tell Hayden about them. Things were just too perfect right now to ruin them. Well, almost perfect.

If only I could get rid of the nagging thought that when things are this perfect, they usually come to an end in one big, messy ball of flames.

“What have I learned from Catcher in the Rye

?” repeated a student from the front of the class.

Mr. Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, that is the question.”

The same student leaned back in his seat. “Well, I’ve learned I’m probably going to fail English this semester.”

An eruption of laughter followed. Mr. Theo looked like he was nearing the end of his patience, showing a splinter in his easy manner. He’d looked that way since class had started.

A smile cracked my face even though it felt like someone was pounding an ice pick into my temple.

When the bell sounded, I think Mr. Theo and I both breathed a sigh of relief.

I coasted through the rest of my morning classes. My chest swelled unexpectedly when I spotted Hayden slouched against my locker, waiting for me. Like it was nothing, he dropped his arm over my shoulder and grazed his lips over my temple.

Several kids glanced at us—mostly girls who looked like they’d trade their knock-off Prada shoes to be in my position.

“Hungry?”

“Always.” I tucked my hand into my sweater. “Diner?”

“If you don’t mind that Phoebe and Gabe join us?”

“That’s cool.” Not a total lie, but it also meant we had to act like we weren’t doing whatever we were doing. It wasn’t like we’d become official or something.

Then again, Hayden hadn’t skipped the PDA a few seconds ago.

Phoebe and Gabe were already at the diner when we walked in. I slid in first, then Hayden. The entire length of his thigh pressed against mine. I pulled a curl from behind my ear and started fiddling with it.

Phoebe’s bright gaze slid between us before settling on Hayden. She and I still weren’t talking, obviously. And I was making it a habit to not feel anything when I was around her. I wasn’t sure if it was working or not.

“Are you going to Charleston with Jonathan tomorrow?” she asked. “Parker’s going with him.”

“Nah, I’d rather sit in class.” Hayden stretched and dropped his hands in his lap.

“I think I’d skip class.” Gabe frowned at the menu.

“Is he going to be gone all day?” I asked, visions of files dancing in my head.

“Most of the day,” Hayden answered. “Probably won’t be back till late evening.”

“Oh.” I took a drink of my soda. Hadn’t Olivia mentioned at dinner that Liz would be going to class with her tomorrow? Something about a field trip involving a play. That meant no one would be home.

Gabe said something, but I’d stopped listening and was suddenly cold—shivering beside a boy who threw off boiling-level temperatures. Tomorrow would be perfect. No one would be home besides my mom— and let’s face it, she didn’t count. Who knew when I’d find another opportunity to see those files?

But did I want to know what was in them? What if I found something that changed everything? What if there was evidence that Cromwell had been behind the accident?

Hayden’s hand on my thigh brought me out of my thoughts. I kept my face straight and kicked him under the table. He squeezed in return.

If I did this—which I already knew I would—I needed to prepare myself for the possibility that Hayden would hate me forever for outing his father or another member of his adopted family. Phoebe’s locker stuff hadn’t done it, but this would be different, worse.

I glanced at Hayden, and a small, secretive smile graced his lips. That kind of smile usually set my skin aflame, but ice was building in my stomach.

Later that night, I talked things through with Mom. That went well— meaning I had a twenty-minute long conversation with myself—but I no longer held it against her. This wasn’t just about my dad, or me, or even Olivia.

Mom would never talk to me again. She’d only see Olivia, and from what I understood, she hadn’t been doing much of that lately. Olivia didn’t understand why and honestly, neither did I.

Before supper, I drew with Olivia. Besides absolutely refusing to stay on the paper, the kid had talent, more than I’d had at that age. Then again, Olivia’s talents were more than just her gift. She was sort of perfect.

I checked my email, more out of habit than anything else, and straightened my room while I waited for Hayden to show up. Yesterday, he’d removed all the plants from the room, except the snake one. I kept that one on my desk as a reminder of my success.

It still hadn’t died and well, I sort of loved that plant.

The soft sound of my door brushing over the carpet drew my attention. I turned off the computer and swiveled around in my desk chair. My stomach did the weird fluttery thing at the sight of his lopsided smile.

“No plants?” I asked.

Hayden shook his head and shut the door. “Thought we’d do something normal for a change.” He pulled a DVD out of his waistband and tossed it to me.

I caught it and flipped it over. “Didn’t this just come out in the theaters?”

“I cannot answer that question.” He tugged off his hoodie with a sly smile and dropped it on the floor.

The long-sleeve shirt he wore underneath rode up a couple of inches. “Em, if you keep looking at me like that, we aren’t going to watch any movie.”

Blushing, I jumped up and busied myself putting the DVD in. It wasn’t my fault that I stared a little. He had that kind of effect. We started off watching the movie—honestly. But it was way too hard to pay attention from the moment Hayden tugged my ponytail down and started messing with my hair.

“I like your hair down.” He twisted his fingers through the curls.

My eyes drifted shut as I relaxed next to him. “It’s a mess. I need to get a haircut.”

Hayden’s fingers stilled. “No. You shouldn’t cut your hair. It’s beautiful.”

I would never cut my hair. Ever. “Pay attention to the movie.”

“I am.”

No, he wasn’t. He left my hair alone, only to circle his arms around my waist and tug me back against him. I let my head fall back against his chest and tried to focus on my plan. “Can I ask you something?”

He made some sort of affirmative sound. His breath stirred the hair at my temple.

“Do you mind if I drive to school tomorrow?” I held my breath.

“No.” His arms tightened. I warmed in a lot of places.

“I thought I could drive myself, you know? I haven’t in a long time and I thought it would nice to do it… by myself.”

Hayden turned me around in his arms in about a nanosecond. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. He looked incredibly serious. Oh no, this didn’t look good. “What?” I asked, a bit transfixed by how the different colors from the TV swayed over his face.

“If you want to drive yourself to school, Em, you don’t have to ask for my permission,” he said, tucking a curl behind my ear. “You can do whatever you want.”

“I know. I didn’t ask for that reason.” I felt terrible for lying. Terrible for what I planned to do tomorrow. Terrible that everything could change if I found something.

“Okay.” His dark gaze searched my face. I felt my stomach drop. “Em, do you like this? I mean, we haven’t really talked about this.” A faint blush stained his cheeks. “You know, about what we’re doing.”

Relief swamped me, but then I realized this was also a serious conversation. Like, the conversation.

Were we moving to “title” territory? Somehow that seemed just as important as the files in Cromwell’s office.

I sat back. “What are we doing?”

Hayden ran a hand over his head, and then dropped his arm to his knee. “I really don’t know how to put what we’re doing into words.”

“Me, neither.”

“You know I… like you?”

“Like” was such a lame word. “Yeah.”

“For awhile now, and well, I don’t want how I feel about you to influence how you feel about me.”

I frowned. “Uh…”

A tiny grin appeared. “What I mean is—I don’t know what I mean.” He laughed self-consciously and shook his head. “I’m not very good at this. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know if what we have between us is because you can touch me, or something else.”

I’d never really looked at it that way, but I could see how he would. My options were painfully limited. “Hayden, are you asking me if I only like you because you’re the only guy I can touch?”

His gaze flicked off my face. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking.”

I scooted closer. “I like you because I can touch you.”

Hayden’s head jerked back to me. He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “Wait. It’s more than that. When I first came here, I didn’t trust you—trust any of you, really. But out of everyone here, you were nice to me. You talked to me and you… you believed in me. You didn’t treat me like a freak.”

“Because you’re not a freak,” he said seriously.

“I’ve felt like queen of the freaks for two years, but I never felt that way around you. Anyway, you’re funny and you’re nice. And you’re smart. I trust you—obviously. I’ve told you and showed you things that not even Adam knew about.” I shook my head. “And you’re—”

“Hot?” he asked with overt innocence.

I laughed. “That too, but it’s more than all of that. And I like you. I really do.” Even that sounded stupid to me. “I don’t know.” My pulse picked up, and my palms felt gross. “Does that tell you anything?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“I don’t know what any of it means. I’m… not used to any of this, but yeah, I like you.”

Hayden scooted down, wrapping his hands around my arms. “You know I think you’re amazing.”

I knew my face was on fire. I think I nodded.

“And I don’t feel this way,” he brought my hands to his chest, over his heart, “about anyone else.”

Hayden locked eyes with me, and I really felt on fire then. “So where does that leave us?”

“We’re… dating?”

“No.” His expression was full of desire, along with another emotion, one that thrilled and frightened me. “‘Dating’ doesn’t sound right.”

I swallowed, unable to look away. “Then, what?”

“I think you know.” Hayden pulled me forward as he lay back, his hands spread over my back. “Do you want me to say it?”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

“Come closer.”

I lowered my head. “Close enough?”

Hayden closed the minute distance between us and brushed his lips over mine. It was just a touch, but I stopped breathing all together. When the kiss deepened, I lost track of the world around me, and the fact that he never answered the question. Not that he needed to. This kiss was beyond silly titles. This kiss was something—I pulled back when I felt Hayden’s fingers spasm. We’d gone too long. Both of us were breathing heavily, and a sudden realization floored me.

This could be the last time I ever kissed him. A sharp, stabbing pain sliced through my chest. Would Hayden forgive me for exposing Cromwell?

I didn’t think so.

And I didn’t want to waste another moment with him. His hands spread up my back, over my shoulders. When he put some space between us, I made a sound of protest. But then his hands were on the move again, stealing down the front and under the hem of my shirt. His knuckles brushed close to my navel. At once, fire and ice coursed through me.

Somehow my shirt ended up on the floor, and I should’ve felt embarrassed. I’d never been this exposed with a boy before and with the scars… but in the soft light and under his intense stare, I’d never felt more perfect in my life.

His shirt stayed on, and so did the rest of his clothes. Obviously, we could only take this so far, but I could still feel the heat through his clothes and it felt amazing—especially when his hands grasped my hips and he held me close, our lips touching every so often, our bodies rocking together.

It was the simplest of touches that got to me the most. Just being able to be this close to him felt a thousand times better than anything I could ever imagine—like lightning shooting through my veins each time he whispered my name.

Amidst all these wonderful sensations, my heart swelled so big I was sure it would explode from my chest. I knew what it was. I knew what I was feeling.

I was in love with him.

My stomach twisted and turned from the moment I stepped into the shower until I climbed in my Jeep.

Instead of focusing on the huge part of me that wanted to forget all of this, I set my plan into motion. A nervous sort of excitement thrummed through my veins and so did a measure of dread, but I felt kind of badass.

Like a spy or something.

I’d patiently sit through three of my morning classes before skipping out. Waiting any longer would be risky. I ended up getting to school way too early. The corridors were unusually silent, and my footsteps echoed down the hall. As I made my way toward my locker, I couldn’t help but feel a little creeped out. I half-expected the lights overhead to flicker out and a gruesome one-handed, one-toothed janitor to jump out at me.

I didn’t feel so badass then.

I shook my head in an attempt to get rid of the image and focused on my locker. Even though I knew there wouldn’t be anything in it, the locker still filled me with unease. Phoebe had officially traumatized me when it came to lockers.

Drawing in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and unlocked it. A couple of heartbeats went by, then maybe a minute, and I pried one eye open. It was, of course, empty.

By the end of English, I started to feel queasy and my temples felt like they were about to explode from the pressure in my head. My nerves were getting to me and I knew I was going to chicken out if I waited as long as I’d planned. When the bell rang at the end of second period, I gathered my stuff up in a rush and hurried from the classroom.

I stopped at the front doors. Fat raindrops splattered against the pavement. My hair was about five seconds from turning into a giant frizzball. Chewing on my lip, I glanced over my shoulder and about fell over.

Mr. Theo stood by the entrance of the admin offices, chatting with another teacher. If he turned his head, I was so busted. Then he did look up, right at me. I started to back away from the door, but he raised a brow and smiled, then turned away.

I couldn’t believe it. And I couldn’t stand here any longer. I pushed open the doors just as the skies ripped open and sleety rain poured. It felt cold enough to snow.

Navigating the rain-slick streets with bald tires proved harder than I remembered, but around forty minutes later, I parked the Jeep in front of the Cromwell mansion.

Soaked to the bone, I went in through the garage and made sure all the cars were gone. Then I shrugged off my wet sweater and hung it on the back of a chair in the kitchen. Even my thin shirt underneath was damp, but I didn’t have time to waste changing.

From there, I half-ran, half-slipped over the hardwood floors. Statues and paintings seemed to watch me as I entered the right wing. I came to a halt outside Cromwell’s study and sucked in air. There was a chance the door would be locked—if so, a waste of a good hair day.

A little nagging voice whispered in my head that what I was about to do was wrong. I’d be prying around in other people’s personal business, but my reasons for doing so were far more important than a silly little thing like privacy. Right?

I reached into my pocket and ran my fingers over the coin. This was supposed to be for good luck.

Well, I needed some luck now. I pushed on the door. It creaked open and a blast of frigid air hit me.

Clamping down on the voice that screamed moral outrage, I headed for the glossy oak desk. Geez, my conscience acted like I planned on doing something terrible. Where was that voice when I cheated on tests and at computer games?

Not the same thing, I guessed.

I yanked open one drawer. No keys. I moved to the second, third, and finally, the middle drawer. The key ring gleamed up at me. I grabbed them and whirled around.

The keys felt strangely heavy in my hand. After several false starts, I found the right one and yanked open the drawer in the credenza. I hesitated a moment; the little voice was back again, whispering I might not like what I found.

I ignored it and grabbed Kurt’s file first, having no idea what to expect.

The first pages consisted of basic information: birthdate, hometown address, and a brief outline of his gifts. From what I read, he had extensive abilities in the mind-wiping field, able to remove certain memories while leaving others intact. Adam had been a perfect example of that. He’d remembered everything—except me. But Hayden had said whoever had done the sweep on Mom hadn’t done it right.

Looking at the file on Kurt, I doubted he’d mess up so badly. I assumed whoever was behind the car crash would’ve also wanted Mom to believe Olivia had died, too.

Pushing the hair out of my face, I flipped to the second page. Bingo.

It wasn’t a criminal record—not a formal one, at least, but Kurt had quite the history in his younger days: B and E, robbery, and assault. All before the age of twenty-one, which I didn’t think was such a big deal—people change. But the psych eval on the third page caught my eye.

Kurt was described as exhibiting malignant narcissistic personality traits paired with antisocial and paranoid tendencies from onset “G.” I assumed that “G” stood for “Gifted.” I didn’t need a degree in psychology to know some of the words didn’t bring the warm and fuzzies, but nothing pointed to him being a full-out psycho-killer.

Disappointed, I shoved his file back in and picked up Parker’s. As I read through his stuff, I began to wonder why Cromwell even had files on them. Why did he keep this information? Cromwell was a mayor, not a psychologist, and stuff like this belonged in a clinical setting.

Parker’s personal information didn’t come as a surprise. Cromwell commented on his inability to block out other’s thoughts, which led to antisocial traits. Phoebe’s had the same stuff about controlling the empath in her, and there was a recent note about her reaction toward me and a treatment guide outlining blocking techniques that Cromwell wanted to work on.

Gabriel’s file didn’t mention much of anything.

Olivia’s included a bio with all the normal stuff: our parents’ names and whatnot, but just one word about her gift: “Miraculous.” I stared at it for a while, and then I shoved it back inside and moved to grab mine.

But I saw another file labeled “T.G.” and nothing else. Curious, I grabbed that one and cracked it open. The first page had been blacked out the same way I imagined they did with classified papers. I flipped to the second page, then the next. Everything had been blacked out. Frowning, I put it back it the drawer and pulled my file out.

I prepared myself for the worst, figuring I’d see things like “bad-mannered” and “ill-tempered” as character traits. So I was surprised when I found nothing on the first page. Not a damn thing—no bio, no birthdate, just the date Hayden and Kurt had shown up at my house, the day they’d relocated me. Weirded out by that, I turned over the page, already cringing at what I would see. And God, did I want to go find Cromwell, rip off my glove, and choke-slam him.

I didn’t even have a freaking name. The sporadic notes referred to me as “Project E.”

Project E has an unstable gift. The ability to disable and even kill with a touch proves to be reminiscent of Project J. Project E is also a candidate for the Assimilation Program. At current time, there has been no evidence that her gift can be controlled. Caution must be exercised.

My fingers curled around the paper until I heard the pages crumple. Assimilation? For me? He could assimilate my foot up his ass. And when did he start believing I had a gift? If I remembered correctly, the last thing he’d called it was unnatural and wrong.

I slammed my file back down, and because I couldn’t help myself, and because I was mad and confused, I picked up Hayden’s file. I sat down and cracked it open. Immediately, my eyes scanned down the page. Just like Kurt and the rest, there was a full bio and I knew the good stuff would be on the second and third pages.

Don’t do it.

But I wanted to do it and I needed something to distract me from my desire to burn down Cromwell’s office. There was a lot about Hayden’s gift that I hadn’t known. Being an enerpath, he could manipulate almost any form of energy: use air to crush a house, create fire out of the electricity in the air, and even move the ground like a mini-earthquake. It was all pretty amazing… and frightening. I flipped the next page over and flinched.

Once, twice, three times—that was how many times I read it before my brain accepted the words written there. “Oh, my God,” I whispered.

Hayden hadn’t been removed from his parents’ home because they’d been afraid of him, but I could understand the lie. The truth would hurt too much—provoke too many questions, too many memories.

He’d just been a kid—God, only five. Way too young.

And he’d killed his entire family.