Fate Book
“Your fucking problem! Let me go!” I jerked away and ran to my car, heading straight for the dorms the moment I started the engine.
Damn it! Santiago was behind me on his motorcycle. Son of a bitch.
A few minutes later, I arrived at the parking lot. It was crowded with fire trucks and police cars everywhere. I pulled into a spot and got out of the car. Smoke poured from one of the windows on the top floor.
I scrambled over to a group of girls standing near the mob of spectators, half of them wearing pajamas. “What happened?” I asked.
“Someone started a fire,” one of them responded. I recognized her as being from my floor. “That girl over there said she saw a guy running down the hall right when the flames burst out.” She pointed to a brunet talking to the police. I looked up again and noticed the stream of water from the hoses pointed at the room next to mine.
“They’re saying that poor girl Christy was inside.”
What? “Christy? You mean glasses-wearing, bio-major Christy?”
The girl nodded and my heart skipped a beat. “Are you sure?” There had to be a mistake.
“The firefighters already carried her away in an ambulance. They had her face covered, but it had to be her. Her roommate is gone for the weekend.”
Oh my God. “Christy’s dead?” I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.
“Dakota?” I heard Santiago’s deep voice behind me.
“Get away from me.” I marched back to my car, determined to find somewhere else to have my breakdown.
Santiago caught up before I managed to open the door. “Damn it, Dakota. Stop. Just…stop.”
“What?” I stomped. “What do you want from me? To see me crumble? To see me fall into the world’s tiniest pieces, so small that no one can ever find me? Because that’s where I’m heading!” I pounded his hard chest. “I’m not like you! I’m a person. I’m real, Godfuckingdamn it!”
It’s not that I knew Christy well, but I’d already reached my limit. This was the final mental straw. That poor girl. Her poor family.
He pulled me into him, cupping my head to his chest. “I know,” he whispered, stroking the back of my head. The tears broke free. “I know,” he repeated, but his words didn’t make me feel any better. His strength and warmth did, however. They made me feel safe enough to let go. So that’s what I did, knowing how wrong it was to find comfort in him.
Several minutes passed, but then Santiago’s body became rigid. “You can’t stay here.” Santiago’s firm grip led me toward the passenger side of my car.
“Where are you taking me?” I said between tiny sobs as I slid into the car. The shock had my brain all twisted in knots.
Santiago came around and got into the driver’s seat. “You can stay with me tonight.”
What? Christ. “No way.”
“Where else are you going to go?” His phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket. “Yeah?” He listened for several moments. “That’s good, I guess. But we need to talk.” Pause. “Fine. But I’m not doing this anymore.” Another pause. “You made a promise. So either keep it, or I’m done.” He scratched his forehead. “All right. You know where to find me.”
“Who was that?” I asked.
Santiago cranked the engine. “The man who’s going to give you answers.”
I wiped the tears from my eyes. The man? What man? “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” Because, if he hadn’t noticed, I was snapping.
“’Cause it’ll be my ass.” He paused, his jaw flexing. “But if he doesn’t tell you the truth, then I will.”
“When?” I asked. “Tonight?” He couldn’t drop a bomb like that at a time like this and expect me to just remain calm. There was someone behind all this crap.
He released a slow breath. “No. But soon. And trust me, you don’t want to know tonight. You’ve been through enough already.”
The word “soon” jogged my memory. Santiago had asked me about my father coming “soon” and then had said to get ready. “Wait. Does this have something to do with my dad?”
Santiago ran his hand over the steering wheel and then gave me a sharp look. “Do you trust me?”
I did and I didn’t. I trusted he would do anything to keep me out of harm’s way, including hurt me if need be. It was seriously complicated.
I shrugged.
“Fair enough. All I’m asking is for a few more days. I promise you’ll get every answer coming to you. Even the ones I know you’ll wish you hadn’t heard.”
PART THREE
One Hundred Percent
Chance
of Rabbit Holes
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
By the time we arrived at his small beach house, I could barely breathe or move; the shock was taking its toll. Not only because of all that was happening to me, but because that sweet girl had died. I couldn’t stop thinking about how insanely precious life was.