Page 58 of Point of Contention

I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my mouth as the first sob crawled its way up my chest, then I backed away slowly. I wanted to be there for Greer, but I couldn’t get my feet to walk toward her.

Toward him.

Toward the body.

My blood ran cold and my stomach twisted. My hands were clammy as I stretched them over my cheeks.

I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go to my best friend.

Not while her dead grandfather wasright there.

My head tickled with weightlessness.

My mom must have sensed me, because she looked up and met my gaze, then her eyes softened and she mouthed, “It’s okay, baby. Go.”

She motioned for me to leave and I didn’t waste any time.

As fast as my feet would carry me, I ran back up those stairs and into my room, then I buried myself among the blankets and dialed the only person I could think to call.

“Rylan?” he answered on the first ring. “It’s early. What’s wrong?”

I tried to speak but a sob tore through me instead.

“Rylan,” he said, his voice strained with concern. “Where are you?”

“I’m okay,” I said, though the way my words caught on another sob made me sound like a liar. “It’s the professor. He’s… he’s dead.”

Cabot sighed, the sound morphing into a pained, “Oh.”

I squeezed the phone and held it to my chest, shaking my head frantically. I should never have called him. Doing so added a new layer to the sadness, because now I wondered ifhewas okay. Ifhewas hurting from the loss of an old friend.

And then the history between them, that sordid connection I knew nothing about, returned to the forefront of my mind and I, once again, was reminded of how little I knew Cabot Reed.

Bringing the phone back to my ear, I let the tears fall, just listening to his breathing on the other end of the line, taking comfort in him when I had no right to do so. I’d been clear about wanting to keep my distance, but in a moment of duress, he’d been the first person I wanted. Needed.

I’d have to face that soon. But not today.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m coming over.”

“No.” I sat up quickly. “Please don’t.”

“Rylan.”

“I mean it, Cabot. Please don’t. Greer needs—”

“Forgive me,” he said, a hint of frustration tightening his voice, “but I am far more concerned with what you need.”

My face crumpled and I hung my head. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

He sucked in a breath, then I heard the shower turn on.

“Don’t come here, Cabot. I mean it. Really.”

“Rylan,” he said on a sigh, “you need me.”

“I… I don’t.” The lie gripped my heart painfully.

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