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  His voice sounded rusted over when he answered. “Yes, I like girls.”

  Paige’s body heat ratcheted to an unbearable temperature. She wanted to shove the suffocating blankets off her she was so hot. But there was no way she was uncovering herself with him around.

  “Then why don’t I ever see you with any?” Mariah reached out slowly, almost gently and touched his hair, running her fingers over the short, sandy, prickled strands. “You’re the best looking guy on campus. I’m sure girls throw themselves at you constantly. Why don’t you ever take what’s offered?”

  Tipping his head away from her touch, Logan cleared his throat and mumbled his answer.

  Paige had to strain her ears to hear.

  “Because I don’t deserve it.”

  Her breath caught in her chest. Had he really just confessed that?

  He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his jeans. “My name isn’t Dave, you know?” Then he turned away and walked out of Paige’s view.

  Blood pounded through her veins, whooshing though her eardrums so loudly she couldn’t hear his footsteps. But she knew he must’ve stopped because the light from the hall continued to shine into the room.

  Curious as to what he was doing, Paige shifted just enough to see him again. He’d stopped with his back to both beds and stood in front of Paige’s desk, or rather in front of the four-by-six picture sitting beside the television. In the portrait, she and Trace posed for the camera, giving each other bunny ears as they tilted their heads together and grinned.

  Realizing he must now know who Mariah’s roommate was, Paige held her breath and let the blanket fall from her face, revealing herself.

  Slowly, he turned, as if something beyond his power was forcing him around.

  When their gazes met, a shockwave of emotion passed through her. She hated him more than she thought it was possible to hate, because for a brief moment, he’d actually made her feel sorry for him. He’d actually made her respect him.

  Unlike her father, he hadn’t turned to alcohol to deal with his problems. He’d done the opposite, becoming the sober designated driver. And he’d freely admitted he’d done something worthy of never deserving happiness again. He seemed remorseful as if he wanted to somehow make up for his past sins.

  After living for three years in a house where no one wanted to deal with their problems, she was awestruck by the courage and strength it must take for Logan Xander to admit daily he was flawed and for him to actually do something to correct his character.

  But she didn’t want to feel awe or respect for him. She wanted to keep hating him. Blaming him.

  He stared at her, looking frozen and vulnerable, his eyes large and his bottom lip occasionally jerking.

  This boy was capable of murder, of murder with his bare hands. He’d killed her brother with a single punch, the force of his fist knocking Trace unconscious until he’d fallen backward and landed on the ground where he’d split his head open against a broken bottle.

  Trace had been strong too, so much stronger than Paige. And if Logan Xander could outmuscle him, who knew how much damage he could do to her?

  But she didn’t experience an iota of fear. She glared at him, daring him to come at her, to attack, to try to hurt her more than he already had.

  “Dave?” Mariah called, sounding confused.

  He glanced at Paige’s roommate before he tripped backward and bolted for the door, slamming it behind him.

  Paige shuddered and squeezed her eyes closed, telling herself it had all been a horrible, awful dream. She hadn’t just felt sorry for Logan Xander. She hadn’t respected him, and she never would.

  “What a strange guy,” Mariah mused from her bed.

  As snoring rose almost immediately from the other side of the room, Paige pulled her blanket back over her head and squeezed her eyes shut, but hot tears of humiliation still managed to trickle through the cracks of her sealed eyelids. Mad at herself for the complete malfunction of her emotions, she brought up a picture of Trace in her head. He was nine and she was six, maybe seven, and he grinned up at her from the base of a tree as he held open his arms. Go ahead and jump, Pay Day. I’ll catch you.

  Love for her lost brother helped her antagonism for his killer level itself back to healthy proportions. Settled once again in her bitter comfort zone of animosity and blame, she fell asleep with no more dreams for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Six

  “IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND?”

  The question yanked Paige’s attention to her two suitemates as nothing else could. “What?”

  Her second week at Granton had gone much better than the first. Dr. Presni still glanced warily at her every time he started Geography class, no doubt expecting her to run away weeping again, but she kept her expression blank and her attention alert. And everything seemed to go okay.

  Her classes progressed without a hitch, except maybe Chemistry. She did not get chemical equations at all. She’d only enrolled in the core requirements this semester and hadn’t actually taken a “marketing” seminar yet. She kind of dreaded the day when it came to that. Marketing wasn’t in her blood. But if fulfilling Trace’s dreams were the only way to keep a piece of him alive inside her, she’d learn the marketing world, scraping by until her fingers bled.

  “Wow.” Tess snagged the picture Bailey had been holding and pulled it to her face for a closer study. “He’s freaking gorgeous. What’s his name?”

  A white hot needle of pain and memories pierced her chest as she watched her suitemates play tug-a-war over the framed photo. “Thanks, but…no. That’s not a boyfriend. He…he’s my brother. Trace.”

  She had invited the two over to watch a movie after supper since she’d finished all her homework and wanted a little company. Since they still talked about how much they loved Mariah’s television, they’d readily accepted. But now, she wasn’t so certain if having them around was a good idea, not with them both ogling her picture of Trace.

  She’d yet to tell anyone in Granton about him or about any fragment of her life, really. And it had been nice. She could pretend to be a normal college student with a normal past full of two normal parents and a normal, live sibling.

  With no murderers lurking in any of her classes any longer, she’d been able to pass herself off as a real girl.

  But she couldn’t pretend forever.

  “He died a few years ago.”

  Both Bailey and Tess lifted their faces to gape at her, their mouths dropping open in harmonized horror.

  “Oh my God, how awful.” Tess quickly set the picture back where it had been resting on top of the desk.

  “Geesh.” Her face bright red, Bailey stuffed her hands into her back pockets and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I…I’m sorry.”

  Paige shrugged, practically tasting the awkwardness in the air and regretting that she’d opened her mouth. “It’s okay. It happened three years ago.”

  She decided not to bring up her mom, or her dad’s addiction, or Logan Xander’s existence. One uncomfortable issue at a time.

  “Hey, you know, there’s this guy in my World History class,” Tess blurted out. “Kevin. He’s super cute. Dark brown eyes. Wispy blond hair.” She sighed with longing as she fanned herself. “Give me minute here.”

  Bailey rolled her eyes. “Okay, if that’s your idea of a conversation changer, it kind of sucks, hon.”

  “No, no.” Tess blushed and waved at Paige to make her listen. “I actually have a point. Anyway, I built up the nerve to, you know, talk to him today before class started. When I asked if he was going to movie night out on the football field tomorrow, he said he couldn’t because—” she grinned and wiggled her eyebrows, letting Paige know she was finally making her way to the point of her story “—he has grief group every Tuesday night at seven over in the Crimson Room of the Student Union.”

  Bailey opened her mouth again, but Tess hushed her by slapping her hand over her friend’s mouth, all without taking
her attention off Paige. “When I asked what grief group was, he said it was this student organization for people who’ve lost loved ones. He was really excited about it and told me how much it had helped him.” She shrugged. “I guess he lost his dad in a car accident when he was eight.”

  “That’s awful.” Paige knew how crushing it was to lose a parent. But she’d been a teen and somewhat self-sufficient by the time she’d been abandoned. Her mom had virtually disappeared from her life before she’d actually died. But poor Kevin with the dark brown eyes and wispy blond hair had been so young and probably very dependent upon his father.

  “Yeah, well…” Tess motioned uneasily to the image of Trace. “Maybe you’d like this group too.” She flushed. “I mean, I hope that wasn’t too intrusive or anything. I only thought—”

  “No.” Paige stopped Tess’s blustering with a big smile. “I think it sounds great. I’ll give it a try.”

  In high school, everyone had pushed her toward counseling, but talking about her pain, sharing her story with anyone else, had just been too much. But hearing Logan Xander openly admit his haunted feelings to Mariah had shaken her. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being more courageous than her, of embracing his suffering and accepting it when she couldn’t do the same.

  She wanted to be better off than he was, and if counseling got her there, she’d at least try it.

  Tess looked surprised. “Really?”

  With a nervous laugh, Paige nodded. “Sure.”

  When she didn’t say anything else, Tess cleared her throat. Bailey ducked her head and drew a circle on the carpet with the toe of her shoe.

  Wishing she could bring the buoyancy back into the room, Paige opened her mouth to say something silly, but nothing came to mind. Grasping her cross amulet, she ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the ruby.

  Bailey looked up and glanced around until she spotted a microwave sitting on top of a plastic crate. “Is that yours?”

  “No.” Relieved for a shift in topics, Paige slid open a drawer in her desk and yanked up a package of movie theater butter microwavable Orville Redenbacher. “But the popcorn is.” She winked and put on a great, goofy grin. “So…you guys want some?”

  “Hells yeah.” Bailey snagged up the TV remote and clicked on the channel guide. “You make the food, and we’ll see if there’s anything good playing.”

  And just like that, the tension oozed out of the room.

  As Bailey manned the remote, Tess camped out on Paige’s bed, making herself at home. She flipped open the novel Paige had left on her mattress while Paige popped the bag into the microwave. “Is this any good? I haven’t read it yet.”

  Paige glanced over and shrugged. “It’s okay. But I liked the first book in the series better.”

  “Oh, I loved that one too!”

  Bailey paused her channel surfing to see what book they were discussing. “I heard the third one’s the best, but I can’t imagine why. Caleb’s the hero in that story, and he’s a total tool.”

  Realizing they shared a love for the same type of books, Paige gave a big internal sigh and relaxed even more. By the time their snack was ready, they’d found an old movie they all wanted to watch.

  Twenty minutes later, Tess stuffed her mouth with a handful of popcorn. “I still can’t believe he died from cancer. He was such a good dancer.”

  From the floor where she’d stretched out, Bailey tossed a popped kernel into the air and caught it in her mouth. “How in the world does good dancing have anything to do with not getting cancer?”

  Tess shrugged, looking momentarily puzzled. “Hmm. I don’t know.”

  Paige grinned and tucked her knees up toward her chest where she was sitting against the wall. “If I went to summer camp with my family, I think I’d fall for the dance instructor too. Especially if he looked like a young Patrick Swayze.”

  “I’d totally jump his bones in that water scene where he teaches Baby how to do the leap. He looked so hot all wet and slippery.”

  “Oh whatever.” Bailey chucked popcorn at Tess, catching her in the cheek. “You so would not. You can’t even talk to a guy without blushing and blabbering like a baboon.”

  Instead of growing irritated, Tess merely shrugged and picked the popcorn off her shirt to toss it into her mouth. “Okay, so I wouldn’t jump him. But I’d totally dream about it.”

  Paige laughed. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Me too.”

  After Dirty Dancing, they found the original Footloose playing on another channel and started to watch it.

  It had nearly finished when the door to her room opened and Mariah stumbled in, a new guy plastered to her as he kissed her throat, leaving a trail of hickies in his wake. Paige held her breath until she saw his face. When she made sure he wasn’t Logan Xander, she finally exhaled.

  “Whoa,” Bailey yelped, jumping to her feet and dodging out of the way to keep from getting trampled. “People here!”

  Mariah lifted her face. “Oh, good. The freshmen have gathered.” She giggled at them and fisted a handful of the boy’s shirt, tugging him close, while he ducked his head and nibbled on her ear. “Ready for a different kind of Granton education, girlies?”

  She and her boy-toy stumbled to her bed and fell onto the mattress, neither coming up for air. Paige cleared her throat and winced apologetically.

  “Sorry. I…she…”

  “Want to come to our room and stay the night?” Bailey asked over the sounds of sucking lips and disturbing moans.

  Paige didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” She snatched her pillow and the top cover off her bed. Clutching them close, she followed Bailey and Tess through the bathroom and into their room.

  The scent of apple cinnamon candles wafted out to greet her and enfold her with a warm, unpretentious feel. She felt like she’d come home. Both girls had pictures posted to their walls of family and friends from home.

  Tess and Bailey chipped in an extra blanket each for her to build a nest on the floor, and it ended up actually being comfortable once Bailey shoved all her dirty laundry out of the way.

  Even after they turned out the lights, the three of them continued to talk and make jokes. Paige had a feeling she’d be staying over here a lot.

  “So how many times has she brought some random guy back to your room to screw him in front of you?” Bailey asked.

  Paige sighed. “Too many for my taste. Though usually they have the decency to turn out the lights first.”

  Tess sighed wistfully—at least Paige assumed it was Tess since she couldn’t picture the ever-sarcastic Bailey making such a longing sound. “You know, I’m kind of jealous of her.”

  “Of what?” Bailey squawked. “Possibly catching an STD or risking pregnancy every other night?”

  “I don’t know. Of her freedom, I guess. Her confidence. Her vivacity. I wish I could just flirt with any guy I found attractive.”

  “You could,” Bailey’s dry voice answered. “You just gotta do it.”

  Paige didn’t join the conversation. But she had to side with Tess on this one. Though Mariah’s personality rubbed her the wrong way, she did kind of wish she had that kind of confidence. She wished she wasn’t so afraid of her own shadow. She wished she could be bold.

  With her own wistful sigh, Paige stared up at the ceiling, barely making out light shadows coming in through the windows from the streetlamps outside.

  She stayed awake awhile, listening to the muffled sounds of Mariah and her friend soaking through the thin wall.

  For some reason, she thought of Logan Xander.

  She wondered what it would have been like to listen to him and Mariah together if he hadn’t turned Mariah down the night he’d brought her home.

  For the most part, listening to Mariah “entertain” was straight up disgusting. But occasionally, some of the sighs and gasps she heard had made Paige warm in the most uncomfortable places, made her wonder what exactly was happening over there on the bed located less than ten feet from her own.

&
nbsp; Would Logan have made the more interesting sounds or would he have made the disgusting ones?

  She slammed her eyes closed, commanding herself to never wonder that again.

  If only he wasn’t so attractive, though. If only Trace had permanently disfigured him or disabled him before he’d been killed. Logan Xander didn’t deserve looks that made him in any way appealing, that made her want to stroke him when he looked sad.

  Monsters weren’t supposed to come in pretty packages.

  But even with his hair buzzed so close to his perfectly shaped skull, his facial features were utterly compelling. And his body? Sweet Lord. There was no way to deny he had a nice body, all tall and sleek and graceful. Like Channing Tatum hot.

  She groaned to herself and wrapped an arm over her closed eyes, hoping to dispel the image of him sitting on the floor by Mariah’s bed a few nights before. He’d looked so vulnerable, so touchable. Lost and alone. Why did she always feel compelled to comfort tortured souls? She wanted Logan Xander to be tortured, to stay tortured.

  For the rest of his life.

  When she finally fell into a troubled sleep, she dreamed of him. He sat on the floor by her bed and looked up at her with troubled eyes that begged her to help him.

  Coerced by a force she couldn’t control, she reached out to touch his face. His skin was warm. Real.

  A pleasant heat traveled up her arm and stirred an achy tightness in her chest.

  When she gasped awake, dawn was barely beginning to filter in through the closed window blinds. Tess and Bailey lay sprawled on their beds. From her pile on the floor, Paige wept silently, horrified by the direction of her dream.

  Feeling as if she’d just betrayed her brother, she folded Bailey and Tess’s blankets and dragged her own back to her room.

  Mariah’s visitor had left, so Paige quickly gathered her shower supplies and spent the next half hour bawling under a scorching hot stream, trying to scrub the disturbing images in her sleep from her very soul.

  Chapter Seven

  LOGAN SHOWED UP half an hour early to his Tuesday night meeting. The group’s counselor had already arrived and was setting the last folding chair in the center of the room to form a complete circle.