Path of Destruction (Broken Heartland, #2)(11)

They were some of the last words her brother had spoken to her. She’d heard them each and every time Hayden had called or texted. She’d heard them in surround sound as she sat alone in her empty house while her mom attended his grandfather’s visitation.

“It’s the right thing to do, Ella Jane. It’d be disrespectful not to go,” her mother had said.

But she just…couldn’t. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to attend another visitation or funeral unless it was her own. Kyle’s had nearly killed her. Everyone else’s grief had piled onto her as they laid it around her neck with a hug or an “I’m so sorry.”

By the time it had ended, she’d felt as if her soul had been crushed to dust or maybe vacuumed-sucked from her body.

A muscular man with tan skin and a short, blond, cropped, military-style haircut stood at the front of the room. “I’m Coach McDermott, your teacher for all intents and purposes. And I’m going to start this year off by teaching you a very important lesson.”

EJ didn’t bother to lift her head even though his ice-blue eyes seemed to be trained on her specifically.

“Not everything in life is easy,” the thick-necked man barked at the classroom as if reading her mind. “In fact, most things aren’t, despite what most of you may think.”

No shit, buddy.

“That being said, I bet the rest of your teachers will hand out a syllabus and a lollipop today. I’m all out of lollipops, but I do have a pop quiz for you.”

As if a pop quiz on the first day weren’t bad enough, Hayden breezed into the classroom and took a seat near the teacher’s desk. The man nodded at him even though he was late. Guess he didn’t get the same tardy lecture as everyone else.

“And passing out the quizzes today will be my student assistant and star midfielder. You can call him Hayden. Or Mr. Prescott.”

A few of the girls in front of her giggled and began whispering loudly about what they’d like to call him. Ella Jane wanted to close her eyes and disappear. Of course her math teacher would be his lacrosse coach and he’d have study hall this period and use it to kiss his coach’s ass. Of freaking course.

He’d welcomed her to Summit Bluffs High School by making out with his girlfriend in front of the memorial display case the school had dedicated to the tornado victims. The one where her brother’s picture was front and center. This was nothing compared to how much that had hurt. And that was a miniscule pinprick compared to the pain of knowing she’d never see Kyle again other than in pictures.

She was fine. This wasn’t a big deal. She could handle it.

Exerting the small amount of energy she had left, she sat up and leaned back in her chair, leaving her desk open for him to place her quiz on. Watching as he flirted with the girls in front of her—likely saying the same kinds of things he’d said to her all summer—made her stomach turn. His tan hand reached over a passed a quiz to a one of his loyal subjects, who eyed him appreciatively.

“Thanks, Mr. Prescott,” a nearby brunette with stark blond and red streaks in her hair said, lowering her voice seductively.

Ella Jane raised an eyebrow. Probably one of his many conquests. It made her nauseated to be on that list, not to mention grouped with this girl who was wearing a bedazzled tank top in any way, shape, or form.

“You’re welcome, Raquel,” Hayden said, turning away from her quickly. “Hey,” he said quietly, placing the sheet of cheap copier paper face down on her desk. “Can we talk later?”

Ella Jane turned her head to keep from seeing eyes she knew to be green with flecks of gold in them. She noticed the chick he’d called Raquel paying especially close attention to their exchange.

“Please, angel face?” he whispered, effectively scratching the layer of steel she’d kept around herself.



On my way. I’ll explain everything, angel face.



Her mouth remained clamped shut despite the overwhelming emotions swirling inside her.

He hadn’t asked her to meet him at the ridge—she’d asked him. But he’d told her to wait and never showed. She didn’t blame him for Kyle’s death—she knew the blame for that lay squarely on her shoulders and no one else’s. But he was inextricably linked to the guilt she carried, to the memory of that awful night when she’d ruined everything, failed her brother, and lost him forever.

She’d gotten caught up in the attention, been bewitched by someone simply passing the time with the only girl around. He’d given the same grin to the girls sitting in front of her, random ones whose names he probably didn’t even know.

She’d meant nothing to him, and he’d cost her everything.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly, but he sighed before moving to the next student. She assumed from the way his shoulders lowered that the message was received.

She didn’t bother turning her quiz over when Coach McDermott said that it was time. She figured she’d just hand it in blank. Hardly seemed like it could really matter. It was the first day of school. How much weight could a meaningless pop quiz really carry?

Feeling eyes on her, she glanced over to see who was staring. Raquel. She lifted her brows at her in a can-I-help-you gesture. The girl sneered in response.

“Coach McDermott,” Streaks, as EJ now thought of her, called out, raising her hand. “I was just thinking… Don’t you think this material might be a little advanced for some of the Hope’s Grove kids? I mean, let’s face it. They probably don’t have much need for complex concepts in Hickville, now do they? Other than one cousin plus another cousin equals a deformed kid.”