Breaking You (Blackthorn Elite 2)

I knock but don’t wait for her to say anything. Pushing the door open, I walk into the office at the same time.

“Excuse you,” she half yells while pushing up from her desk. The woman looks exactly like Easton described her, so I don’t ask her anything but the most important question.

“Why did you pull Harper Martin out of class?” I take another step and stop right in front of her desk, pinning her with a dark stare.

“And you are? Legally, I can’t give you answers to questions like that.”

“I’m her boyfriend,” I answer without thinking. It sounds weird saying those words again, but I don’t have time to dwell on the thought.

“If that’s so, then you know where she lives?”

“With me.”

“And, are you aware of the fact that Miss Martin is receiving money to live on-campus?”

Fuck, so they found out.

“So what? Who cares? And how do you even know about this?” Since I have her talking, I might as well keep getting whatever information I can out of her.

“It doesn’t matter who made us aware of it, what matters is that it happened and needed to be addressed immediately.” I don’t know if she mentioned a who on purpose, but either way, I know someone ratted her out, and I have a good idea about who it might be. I’ll deal with him later though, because right now I have to fix this. Fix this big-ass mess for Harper.

“What do you mean addressed? What’s going to happen? Did she lose her scholarship?”

“Not yet, but she will if she doesn’t pay back the money, and she won’t be receiving any further payments for housing. So even if she does manage to pay the school back, she’s going to need to find a place to live.”

Without a second thought, I pull out my wallet and grab my credit card, throwing it down onto the shiny wooden desk between us.

“Here, I’ll pay for it.”

“Okay,” the lady chirps, taking my card without question. I guess they don’t care where the money comes from as long as it’s paid. She runs the card, and I sign the receipt and put my card back in my wallet before heading out. I don’t even think about how much money I spent, or what is happening between us. Right now, the only thing of importance to me is ensuring that Harper can continue her education.

In the beginning, I wanted her gone, but now… I just… I need her close, need to know she’s okay.

Pulling the office door shut behind me, I tug my phone out of my pocket right away. Dialing Harper’s number, I hold the phone to my ear just to be met by the sound of her voicemail. Fuck. Squeezing the phone so tightly, I fear the device might crumble under the pressure of my grip.

She turned her fucking phone off… again.

Acid burns up my throat and panic grips me. Even as angry as I am, the worry of her leaving is worse. Where the hell did she go? What is she thinking? Fuck, I know exactly what she is thinking. She blames me. She thinks I did this, just like I threatened I would.

On my way to my car, I call Valerie’s phone just to get her voicemail too. I don’t think she is there anyway. There is only one place I can think of to go, and that’s her parents’ house. I find the address she gave me before and put it in my GPS. Ten minutes later, I’m on my way, hoping that it’s not too late.

How could I fuck this up? I should have already paid the stupid housing money. I should have told her that I wanted her to stay, that I would never tell the university about this. But my stupid head got in the way. I wanted to have something to hold against her, and all because I was scared that she would leave me if I didn’t.

I only get about halfway to Harper’s parents’ house before my phone starts to ring. I grab it from the passenger seat, surprised to see Valerie’s name light up the screen.

Answering, I say, “Hello.”

“Did you rat out Harper to the school?” Valerie’s accusing voice comes through the line. Caught off-guard but totally expecting it, I tell her the truth.

“No, I fucking didn’t. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes…” She pauses, and I wait for the but to come, “She’s at my place. I told her she can stay with me, but I kinda don’t want her to stay. You know, with my job and all. It won’t take her long to figure out I don’t work at a diner.”

Valerie is still talking while I make a U-turn at the next road.

“Send me your address, and I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” I punch the gas and squeeze the steering wheel in my hand.