Page 73 of The Sinner (Haven Grace Prep 1)

He chuckles. “I don’t have one. I just never expected you to change your noncommittal ways for some overly obsessive trust fund baby who won’t hop off your dick for five minutes.” He stands against my side as he tries to block me. “I honestly thought

you’d end up dating Savannah.”

I shove my elbow into his stomach, barreling my whole body into his and knocking him over before shooting the perfect three-pointer, but I’m not about to celebrate.

He narrows his eyes at me and pushes himself up off the floor. “What the hell, man?”

“Why the fuck does everyone insist on talking to me about her?” I shout.

“I don’t know, maybe because we can all see what you’re not willing to admit.”

Getting up in his face, I’m ready to deck him. The only reason I haven’t is because he’s my cousin. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

He squares his shoulders and mirrors my glare. “That you’re less of a person without her. You’re angry and irrational. You walk around acting like the world screwed you over, and you’ll stop at nothing until you burn the whole damn thing to the ground.” His frustration is evident as he shoves past me and heads toward the door. “Your father may have wanted a lot of things for you, but I don’t think any part of him wanted this.”

Alone to drown in my own destruction, I lie down on the gymnasium floor and stare at the ceiling. Every part of me knew better than to get involved with her. The plan was simple—find her weakness, her Achilles’ heel, and destroy her with it. It couldn’t have been any more straightforward, but it all went to hell the moment I kissed her. That one taste of what things could have been derailed me in an instant.

Standing there, watching as Trey revealed her secret to everyone, I felt conflicted. One on hand, I was pissed. That information was mine, the only thing I had that could cause her pain. On the other, I was relieved. She got what was coming to her, but my hands remained clean, or at least as clean as they could be with everything I’d already done. Seeing her break down, however, hit me with a feeling I never expected—sympathy.

Savannah and I used to be that one constant in my life—the one thing I knew I could count on. It’s like we were written in the stars…destined to be together. Even growing up apart from her, I always hoped we’d find each other again someday. It wasn’t until I found proof of my father’s warning that I finally understood why he wanted me to stay away from her. I drank so much that day, my mom was afraid I’d need my stomach pumped.

The next morning, I had made two vows to myself—I’d never give someone the ability to hurt me that way again, and I’d get my revenge on the ones who betrayed him. Betrayed me. I just never expected I’d end up as broken as she is. Tyson may have a point after all.

I TAKE A DEEP breath as I reach up and knock, loosening the tie around my neck just a little. No part of me is sure about this, or about what I plan on doing afterward, but it’s a step. The door swings open, and I’m met with two wide green eyes. Delaney takes in my appearance and smiles.

“Still have that extra ticket?”

She nods. “Just let me grab my purse.”

As she steps out and closes the door behind her, I realize I’ve never seen Delaney so dressed up before. Her light brown hair is kept out of her face with braids and diamond clips. The black dress she’s wearing sparkles as it reflects the light, low cut and revealing. Being as she’s the closest I’ve got to a little sister, let someone try hitting on her tonight. I’ve been needing an outlet for this pent-up frustration.

THE VENUE IS FILLED with supportive friends and family, but I’m sure we’re the only ones here for Savannah. Delaney and I sit several rows back from the stage. Personally, I don’t want Sav to see me here, and Delaney agreed—explaining that the sight of me may catch her off guard and cause her to mess up.

We watch dancers come and go from the stage for what feels like hours, but Savannah is yet to be seen. Even a routine I’ve watched her rehearse with Lennon is performed as a solo. I look over at Delaney, confused, but she only shakes her head and smiles. Finally, the director of the dance studio comes out onto the stage. She’s a middle-aged woman, and the female form of Brady.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” she says into the microphone. “The final performance is one that even I didn’t get to see until just last night. It was choreographed entirely by the dancer herself and perfected in only a matter of four days. So please, put your hands together for the immensely talented Savannah Montgomery, performing Broken Memories.”

Everyone applauds and Delaney straightens in her seat, but the stage remains empty—until the music starts to play. It’s a simple music box tune with a layover track of children laughing. Two small kids walk across the stage, holding hands and nudging each other playfully.

Suddenly, the tune becomes sinister, and two older dancers come out to rip the little boy away. The girl searches frantically, running back and forth with a fearful look on her face before walking backward off the stage, opposite the side the boy was taken.

Love Me or Leave Me by Little Mix starts playing, and for the first time all night, Savannah steps out. She looks flawlessly gorgeous in her white costume, with her hair down and curled. A white gold necklace, similar to the one I gave her, lies against her chest.

She moves her body across the stage with a delicate ease, leaping through the air like she has the ability to fly. Her spins are perfectly executed, and as she turns out of them, you can see the pain in her eyes.

Brady stands toward the back corner of the stage with his back to the crowd, unmoving and firm, even as Savannah pounds on his back and pulls at his jacket.

She returns to throwing her body into every move, following each one with another in a way no other dancer could. She’s not just putting on a performance, she’s spilling her soul.

As the second verse starts, Brady begins to move. It’s like they’re facing off, both angry and unwilling to cave. Then, the bridge hits, and he’s in her face. She swings at him with each hand, only for him to catch both her wrists—a reenactment of our first kiss. Her body falls limp as he holds her and spins them around.

Straightening, she turns to face the audience, and Brady lifts her by her waist. It’s a brilliant move that not only shows their strength but their trust in each other. The two of them move around the stage in synchrony until they’re face to face again. As the last notes play, she watches with pleading eyes as he grabs the small pendant and rips it from her neck, before turning and walking slowly off the stage.

Savannah collapses to the ground, reaching for him with one hand, and grabbing her chest with the other. The entire place is silent as tears flow from her eyes. With a painful finality, she lays her head on the stage, and the hand that was grasping for Brady relaxes.

It’s as heartbreaking as it is beautiful, and in an instant, the entire place is on their feet. The screams and cheers are deafening as she’s commended for such a jaw-dropping performance. There isn’t a single person in the audience unmoved—including me. Especially me. While they all saw a dance, I saw a story. The story of us.

24

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