The Devouring Gray(74)

But no. That was too cruel. She wouldn’t do that, not after Harper had told her what Justin had done to her. Violet knew, she had to know, that Harper could not handle that again.

Her father had stranded Nora in the woods. And Violet, the only person she wanted to talk to about it, was no longer an option.

She was lost and scared and sad and more alone than ever.

A surge of phantom pain from her left arm jolted through her. Harper shuddered and clutched her residual limb in her right hand.

Three years ago, she had let her panic win. She’d bent to the Hawthornes’ will, become the person they’d told her she was, small and scared and forgotten. But Harper knew, now, that she was so much more.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped her eyes, and as her heartbeat began to decrease, the pain in her arm fading away, someone knocked on the practice room door.

“Sorry,” she called out. “This one’s occupied.”

“Harper? Is that you?”

Harper lifted her head, adrenaline coursing through her. “Justin?”

“Can I come in?”

She wanted to say no.

But if she was going to figure out what had happened to Violet, she’d need help. And she wasn’t really in a position to be picky about it.

So she swallowed down the remains of her tears, stood up, and pulled open the door.

Justin looked even more unraveled than he had on the night he’d confessed his lack of abilities to her. There was something gaunt in his expression now, a raw, unveiled part of his gaze that hadn’t been there on the equinox.

“I know you told me to leave you alone,” he said. “But do you mind if I join you? I’m not sure I can face the whole school today.”

She was too surprised to do more than nod her head, watching with abject disbelief as he balanced his backpack on a music stand and plopped down in a chair. The door swung shut behind him. Harper retreated to her own chair, conscious of how little space there was in the practice room.

Even with their backs pressed against opposite walls, their knees were almost touching.

“Where’s Isaac?” she asked.

Justin pulled a hand through his thatch of blond hair. An image sprang up in her mind: her hand on the back of his neck, strands of hair shining like spun gold between her fingers.

She forced it down, but not before her fingers twitched.

“Sitting with May,” he said. “Trying to keep the pretend peace.”

“Pretend peace? I don’t understand.”

“I was kicked out of the house,” said Justin. “Well, kind of. I ran away. But I think I would’ve been formally kicked out if I didn’t.”

“What? Why?”

“I couldn’t do it anymore. My mother told me it was a good thing that I failed my ritual. And I’m starting to think she’s right. Because it’s forced me to look at the damage my family does to this town.” He let out a deep, shuddering breath. “No one deserves to be treated the way I treated you.”

Harper had wanted to hear him say those words for so long. But as they echoed through the practice room, through her skull, she didn’t feel relief. She just felt empty.

“There’s a point when it doesn’t matter,” she said slowly, unaware at first that she was even speaking out loud. But she didn’t want to stop. “You don’t get to absolve three years of guilt with this. And you don’t get to crawl back to me when it feels convenient.”

“I know. There’s no taking back how cruel I was, or how I hurt you. I just wanted you to know that I see now. I should’ve stood up to my family. I should’ve helped you. And everything I’ve done for Isaac and Violet is because of what I couldn’t do for you.”

Harper didn’t know if the words he was saying were real or not—but, oh, she wanted them to be.

She choked back a sob. “I don’t forgive you.”

“I know.”

“I can’t forgive you.”

“I don’t care.”

Harper’s heart tightened, because this was the Justin she had known. Kind, honest, loyal to a fault.

The night before her ritual, they’d snuck out to the lake, watched the dark, lapping waves eroding the muddy bank at the water’s edge.

“What if I don’t come out?” she’d asked him, and he had twined his fingers through hers and given her a grin of utmost confidence.

There had been a promise in that smile, in the way he held her hand. “You will.”

And Harper had loved the boy Justin had been, so she’d believed him.

Maybe she loved him still.

But she was pretty sure love was supposed to feel like growing stronger, not rotting from the inside out. Whatever remained between them was a knot of lust and anger and regret that had festered inside of her for so long, she wasn’t sure who she was without it.

She couldn’t shake the knowledge that Justin had been content to ignore her when he still believed he was powerful. He’d taken full advantage of the opportunities being a Hawthorne provided him: girls, friends, unquestioned respect.

Only when he was broken had he come back to her. Because she was broken, too.

Harper would not mistake his desperation for affection. So when she opened her mouth to speak again, it wasn’t to give Justin hope for reconciliation. It was to get answers.