Kill Switch (Devil's Night 3)

I stopped for a second, feeling defeated. Why? Why would I have to? Would he not stop? What did he want?

“Would you have forgiven me…” he asked, “if I’d gone over the side of the treehouse with you that day?”

I stood there, tears burning the backs of my eyes.

I didn’t know how to answer. I searched my brain. Why did that question strike me like it did? It seemed almost vulnerable. It was the first moment since I’d started school here that he hadn’t acted like an asshole.

Would I have forgiven him if he’d been hurt, too? I could’ve died that day. I could’ve been hurt a lot worse than I was now. My neck could’ve broke. I could’ve wound up in a coma for the rest of my life.

And he could’ve gone over with me and been hurt and killed, too. What would be my thoughts about him now if that had happened? Would I be more forgiving?

Maybe.

I thought about it.

Yes. I would’ve said ‘kids are kids’ and ‘bad things happen’. Children weren’t mature enough to control themselves. I would’ve tried to understand.

But even if I didn’t hate what he’d done to me all those years ago, I still hated him because of who he was now. Boys grew up. He hadn’t.

“I should’ve known it was you,” someone suddenly growled and I finally registered that the door to the closet had swung open.

I sucked in a breath and straightened as people barreled in, someone taking my hand and leading me out.

Five minutes later we were in the dean’s office, a loud slap piercing the air.

“She is a freshman!” Dean Kincaid bellowed at Damon. “Do you have any shame?”

I stood there, my hands locked behind my back as Damon and I stood a few feet apart in front of Kincaid’s desk.

Damon coughed and sniffled next to me. “I think she hurt me more than I hurt her,” he said, his breathing labored. “I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. You might just might be my type, girl.”

He laughed, and I ground my teeth together. I hadn’t realized I’d bit his jaw that hard. Or maybe it was from when I hit his nose.

Either way, good.

“You’re expelled,” Kincaid bit out, his tone clipped. “I don’t care what your father threatens me with. We’re going to end up on the goddamn national news because of you!”

“Expel me?” Damon challenged. “The alumni will love that. And perfect timing, too. Your contract is up for review. Wait till they hear you don’t like winning basketball games.”

Something slammed on the desktop in front of us, and I jumped.

I closed my eyes, exasperated. Oh, my God. He was a piece of work. And he was going to win, too. Kincaid wasn’t going to expel him. Not with wealthy, connected alumni caring more about athletics than they did education.

Wait until Damon actually grew up and realized the whole world wasn’t going to bend over for him forever.

It was only a matter of time for me, though. Before he’d be too much to take, and something would have to be done. Dealing with all the anger and attitude in the school for getting him expelled or taking myself and going back to Montreal. I didn’t want to leave. That would be a sure way never to see him again. The ghost. Whoever he was.

But life here would be intolerable if Damon backed me into a corner and I had to fight back. No one would be on my side.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “Don’t bother, Mr. Kincaid,” I muttered. “I’m leaving the school.”

“The fuck you are,” Damon growled. And then to Mr. Kincaid, “It was just a disagreement. I’ll leave her alone. You have my word.”

“Your word…” he mocked.

“I don’t lie,” Damon said, anger hardening his voice. “She’ll be fine. I swear. I won’t even look at her for the rest of the year, as long as I’m at this school and under your care. I promise.” He evened out his tone. “The basketball team goes on, she can stay, and we’ll pretend this never happened. Her father doesn’t have to know.” And then to me, “Right?”

I hardened my jaw, standing there and not giving him an ounce of my attention. Was he telling the truth? Could he stay out of my way?