Page 132 of Heart of Thorns

BRIAR

I sitacross from the dean as calm as ever. Thorne and his coach sit in the other two chairs, awaiting their fate like Dean Winters is the Devil and Thorne’s parents are his demons.

“They did call me, yes,” Dean Winters confirms, bouncing his attention back and forth between Thorne and his coach.

Thorne scoffs and crosses his arms angrily. “Let me guess? They offered you some fancy building in exchange to transfer me out of school.”

Despite Thorne telling his parents—very colorfully, might I add—that he was through being their little puppet, they continue to try and control his life. Their phone calls are daily at this point, and the last argument they had ended with a threat to call the dean from Thorne’s father.

Thorne’s leg begins hopping up and down with his nerves, so I reach out and place my hand on his thigh. The bouncing stops immediately.

I pat the denim of his jeans and clear my throat.

Dean Winters briefly glances at me before turning away.

It’s like he thinks if he makes eye contact with me, he’ll burst into flames or something. Or maybe he’s afraid I’ll start yelling athim like my mother did when he questioned me after I divulged what had happened thefirsttime I was caught in a fire.

This time was my fault entirely.

I purposely put myself in a direct path of the raging flames, but it was to save Thorne, Ben, and Rhys.

The dean would have an ever bigger problem on his hands if I didn’t ram Rhys’s car into school property. There would be three dead football players and a whole lot of questions.

Right now, the only questions he has to answer are from the police and to the parents of those involved. The fire was on the news, and all over social media, but since the investigation is still ongoing, we haven’t been public about it.

Stephenisbehind bars, though the only ones who have noticed are the players on the football team. Apparently, no one other than his family likes him enough to miss him. Once the investigation is over and it goes to trial, people may learn what Stephen did, but for now, things are being swept under the rug. Though, Rhys has a plan in the works to celebrate Stephen’sdeparturewhich will likely cause some attention.Ben, whose injuries were similar to Thorne’s and Rhys’s, ended up taking the rest of the semester off. Despite the horror of what happened, we’re all okay.

Thorne’s football coach leans forward in his seat. His elbows dig into his knees. “You’re just going to accept their bribe? Rob me of one of the best players I’ve ever had? He is destined for the pros.”

Thorne’s leg bounces again, and the rising testosterone in the room is giving me a headache.

I clear my throat, and this time, everyone gives me the attention I’m silently demanding.

“Do you have something to say, Ms. Hart?” Dean Winters is unquestionably assertive and commands the room with his gruff voice.

I don’t let it deter me for one second.

“Actually, I do.”

His eyebrows rise.

Thorne quietly chuckles.

And his poor coach is hanging on by a thread.

“Do you recall last spring when I was nearly killed?” I don’t give him even a second to respond. “Remember when you questioned my report to the police and the retelling of all the details from that night? You scoffed when I said that someone had trapped me in that burning building?”

Thorne’s head snaps over to me in my peripheral vision. His coach mutters something.

Dean Winters exhales deeply, however, he doesn’t deny it.

I cross my leg—the one that will likely never be the same—over the other. His gaze falls right to it.

“Then, when the police confirmed that it was suspected arson, you looked me right in the eye and practicallybeggedme to keep it a secret. You didn’t want any of the students to freak out.” I use air quotes to really drive my point. “Which really just translated to you not wanting any media coverage over the fact that one of your students was a potential arsonist who was still on the run.” I smile softly at him. “You most definitely didn’t want any of the parents to know, because most would be fearful and beg their children to transfer to a safer school.”

The office fills with silence.

Thorne’s coach rubs his hand down his face with stress. The scratchiness of his palm against hair breaks the tension.

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