Page 30 of Into Ruin

I stumble backward, putting distance between me and the roses. My stomach churns, and I swallow hard.

“Olivia!” I shout.

She rushes upstairs and down the hall, skidding to a halt in the open doorway. She gasps, then chokes.

“Please tell me Camden did this,” I whisper. “Hedoesn’t know where I live?—”

“It was absolutely Camden.” Olivia steps forward. She’s the brave one, going straight up to the bed and picking up one of the flowers. “But…”

Light spots dance in my peripheral vision. “But, what?”

“You probably didn’t tell him Max used to cut off the thorns.” Olivia holds up one of the long-stemmed roses, her thumb right below where a thorn has been removed.

Fuck.

I back up until I hit the wall and slide down it.

Olivia makes a noise in her throat. “He’s just guessing. You haven’t been here. So… he can’t know. All he knows, probably, is your brother lives here.”

“Okay.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight for a long moment, trying to regain some control over myself. After a long moment, I look up at her. “You’re right.”

“Come on.” Olivia holds out her hands. “Deep breath.”

I let her pull me to my feet. She rummages around on my desk, in the drawers, and pulls out a notebook I’d labeled for my photography class. She tucks it into my backpack and finds my camera. My laptop is already in the bag.

“I’m going to walk you to and from class, and I will punch that asshole in the face if I see him.” She holds out my bag. “And then we’re going to tell your brother.”

I shake my head. “Where will I go ifhereisn’t safe? Home? That’s not safe either.”

She quiets.

Telling my brother…

I march over to my desk and grab the small trash bin, then make quick work sweeping the flowers into it. They barely fit, and my fingers crush some of the petals in my hurry. The pink stains my fingers, my white sheets. It’s like the color has bled.

“Can you open the window? Let some air in?—”

“On it,” Olivia replies.

I carry the flowers out of my room. Straight downstairs, out the front door, and around to the side of the house where the garbage bins live. I dump them all in and slam the lid shut.

If he’s watching…

I keep the mask over my features in place and return inside. Olivia has further removed any trace of the bits of petals left behind, and even the scent is lessening. The chilly breeze sweeps in, lifting strands of my hair.

I swing my bag over my shoulder and motion to her. Clothes can wait—they’re the least of my problem now. My skin crawls just standing in this room any longer.

And besides, I’m about to be late for my photography class.

“Leave it,” I advise. “Let’s get out of here.”

My timeon campus is spent oscillating between trying to focus on class, looking over my shoulder, and checking that damn app. The number of subscribers on my page has only grown, and it makes me sick every time the page refreshes.

But I cannot stop.

I also can’t stop scrolling the comments on the video, searching for something to indicate Max Keegan is watching. If he found it.

What if he did? And that’s what prompted the roses?

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