Page 113 of Beautiful When He Breaks

“Yeah,” she says, looking down briefly. “I was in Celeste’s sorority.”

My fingers tighten around my phone at that name, and the weekend warmth of yellow paint and Julian’s hands suddenly gets shoved behind a door in my mind.

“What do you want?” I ask, the tone of my voice colder than I meant for it to be.

She flinches, but she doesn’t leave. Whoever she is, she looks like every part of her wants to run already, but she stays planted in front of me with her tote strap twisted around her hand.

“I’m not here to start anything,” she says quickly. “I promise. I just saw you and… I’m leaving today, and I didn’t know if I’d get another chance.”

I stare at her, trying to place her more clearly. Sorority porch. Celeste laughing beside her. A party at Sigma maybe, the girl leaning close to say something to another girl while Celeste had her nails in my arm and a bright, possessive smile on her face. The memory slides away before I can catch it.

“How’ve you been?” she asks as if the question hurts her.

A laugh almost comes out of me because what the fuck kind of question is that? How have I been since her sorority sister left a baby on my doorstep and detonated my life? Since I found out my own parents thought my daughter’s existence was a moral stain? Since I started piecing together gaps in my memory that make my stomach turn every time I look at them too long? But she’s not asking casually. She looks like she already knows the answer.

“I’m alright,” I say, because it’s the only answer I can give a stranger in the middle of campus without losing my mind.

Her eyes shine immediately. “I’m glad.”

“You’re… glad?” I repeat, starting to get angrier.

She swallows. “I mean… I’m sorry. That sounded stupid. I just meant I’m glad you’re still…” She trails off, one hand coming up to wipe quickly under her eye before any tear fully falls. “I heard about the baby. I’m so sorry, Eli.”

My heart starts beating faster.

There’s something in the way she says it that doesn’t fit simple sympathy. It’s too heavy. Not gossip regret or the shallow campus version of oh my God, that’s so messed up. She says it like the apology has been sitting in her mouth for months and poisoning everything.

My voice drops. “Why exactly are you sorry?”

She scans the plaza nervously, then she reaches into her tote. “I’m not—sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just…” She pulls out a small black flash drive, no label, no keychain, just plastic and metal sitting in her palm. “I needed to give this to you.”

I stare at the flash drive as if it might start speaking on its own. The plaza keeps moving around us, which makes the whole thing worse. The world continues being normal while a girl from Celeste’s old sorority holds out a little black object that feels like it could open a trapdoor under my life.

“What is that?” I ask.

Her fingers tremble. “Everything I have.”

My pulse goes louder. “Everything you have about what?”

She presses her lips together hard, and for one second, I think she won’t answer. Then she does, and the words come out small but clear enough to land.

“About Celeste.”

My stomach turns over.

I look from the drive to her face. “What do you know?”

She flinches again, not from volume this time, because my voice has gone quiet. Maybe that’s worse. Maybe she hears exactly how close to the edge I am.

“I know I should’ve said something sooner,” she whispers. “I know that. I’ve been trying to convince myself I didn’t know enough, or it wasn’t my place, or you’d never believe me, or it was already over, or whatever bullshit excuse made me less of a coward that day.” She looks down at the drive, then back at me with visible effort. “But then I heard about the baby, and I heard she left, and I just… I can’t keep carrying it. I’m leaving Blackthorne and going back home. I’m done with all of them.”

My mouth feels dry. “All of who?”

She shakes her head quickly, panic flashing. “I can’t talk here.”

“Then we’ll go somewhere else,” I say, stepping closer before I can stop myself. “Tell me what the hell is on that thing.”

Her eyes fill properly then. “I’m sorry.”