The road back to Thornhill was mostly straight and scenic. The woods bordered both sides of the road, and tall trees whipped past as we drove.
"Keep your eyes on the road, Porter," I said, for what seemed like the eighth time.
He mumbled another apology. His hands were firmly gripped on the steering wheel, but his eyes kept wandering. It had started to rain as the sun dipped below the horizon. Heavy raindrops bounced off the windshield.
We were nearing the Welcome to Thornhill, Massachusetts sign. Just another ten minutes and I would make it home in one piece.
"You think they're okay?" he asked.
"Quentin is resourceful. He'll be fine."
"I'd be more reassured if it didn't sound like you were trying to convince yourself," he said glumly.
"We have to believe that he can take care of himself too. Plus, Dillon and Kya are there with him."
I didn't mention how uneasy I felt about all of it.
Back at the abandoned house, Quentin asked how the masked guys had found Ava right as we had. It was hard to believe that it was an unfortunate coincidence. I didn't want to admit that I thought there was a mole within the group, but it was possible.
Was it Kya? She was a great liar. She would be able to get away with it. Or maybe it was Dillon. He joked around enough, but could he be hiding something?
Another thought crossed my mind.
Or was it Fiona? She had disappeared last night claiming she needed to get back to her set. She could have gone after Ava the second she left.
I shook the thoughts away. I didn't know enough yet. I had to keep it all to myself until I had more proof.
If there was a spy amongst us, the last thing I wanted was for their guard to go up.
"Hey, a pumpkin patch," Porter said, turning his head as we passed one.
"Porter!" I snapped, making him jump and jerk the wheel.
"I—I'm so sorry."
The rain was falling heavier now.
I sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just really worried, but I shouldn't be taking it out on you. I'm just so stressed out and my head is pounding and I feel sick. With all this going on with Quentin, and now Paige..." My voice trailed off. "Thanks for driving me back."
"Do you know why she called?" he asked.
"She wouldn't say, but it didn't sound good." I tugged on the seat belt. "Not knowing is kind of driving me a crazy."
I tasted bile in the back of my throat. Being in the car made me queasy, and a throbbing headache was beginning to form above my eyebrow. All the stress was starting to hit me at once. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep off everything that's happened these last few weeks.
"We'll be back soon. Hang in there."
We were nearing the edge of town.
"Hey, it's almost your birthday, isn't it?" I said, turning towards him.
He nodded.
"Is your brother coming home to celebrate?"
Porter had an older brother, Garrett, who was in college on the other side of the country. He was a third year at UC Irvine.
"No, he's not."
"But you're turning eighteen. It's a big one," I said.
"He doesn't want to come home. And I don't blame him a bit."
I opened my mouth to say something, to let him know that he should come back for his younger brother's birthday, but I bit my tongue. I wouldn't push it.
Porter didn't like talking about his family life much. And even though he never said anything, Quentin and I suspected things happened behind the closed doors of the Moretti house. There was a reason why Porter was always trying to get away and sleepover in the basement.
"You know," I said, "you and I have been friends with Quentin for years and have somehow become friends by association."
"Right."
"But I feel like this is the first time we've ever been together without Quentin."
He looked like he was racking his memory. "It is? That doesn't sound right."
"If it wasn't for Quentin, we might never have spoken. Isn't that weird?"
"We might've," he said.
"I'm not so sure. You wouldn't dare try to make friends with me. Only Quentin is stupidly brave enough. You would've thought I was too mean," I teased. "You wouldn't want to be friends with me."
He didn't crack a smile.
He turned briefly toward me briefly before saying in a quiet voice, "No I wouldn't have. I know what mean is like. I've been bullied before. I've been bea—" He caught himself. "You are nothing like those people. You are not mean, Grace."
The smile slipped from my face. "Do you, um, want to talk about it?"
A part of me was hoping he'd want to. This was the first time Porter and I had ever connected on our own terms, without Quentin being the glue that holds the three of us together.
And then the other part of me was also borderline terrified he might take me up on the offer.
"Not really."
The relief I felt as he said that was instantly replaced by guilt. I was a terrible friend.
I peeked over at him.
"Are you...crying?" I asked, horrified that he might be. I was not good at consoling people. I knew that I shouldn't have asked so aggressively, but I don't stop to think about what I say before it comes out of my mouth. "I mean, are you okay?"
There was moisture around his eyes. He quickly dried his eyes with his sleeve. "No. I think, uh, some rain must've slipped in through a crack in the window."
We both knew he was lying.
"It's okay if you are," I tried. "Crying is a perfectly natural response to an emotional conversation, so you go ahead and—"
"You don't have to say anything. I'm fine, Grace."
"No. I do. We're friends. Well, friends by association, but—" My eye was drawn to a sudden movement in the road. "Porter, watch out!"
Someone was in the middle of the road. He didn't even flinch as the car barreled towards him.
Porter yelped and jerked the steering wheel to the right. We bounced around in the car as it spun and started hydroplaning on the wet road. The world was a blur of greys and greens as we spun. I dug my nails into the door handle and screamed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw red.
We were spinning towards a tree.
I braced myself for the impact as the front of the car slammed into a thick trunk. My brain was rattling around in my skull so hard that it took me a few moments to realize we had stopped and that I wasn't dead.
Something dripped onto my shoulder.
I froze, expecting the worse, that maybe I had bumped my head and not even known.
But it was just water.
The windows had shattered and rain was pelting into the car.
"Porter?" I croaked.
The hood of his car was dented and steam was starting to come through. We had to get out.
My vision was blurry. I blinked several times but my eyes wouldn't adjust. I also couldn't feel my right leg.
"Porter. Say something."
He wasn't moving.
No. God, no. This isn't happening.
He really wasn't moving.
My stomach plunged and I fumbled with my seat belt. I couldn't breathe. Rain dripped down the side of my face, but I couldn't feel how cold it was. Everything was numb.
My hands found his wrist. He was so cold.
A pulse.
He's alive.
My whole body sagged with relief. "Thank God."
There was blood streaked onto the side of the car and a huge gash on his forehead. He had hit his head hard during the crash.
I needed to get him to the hospital.
But that was across town and our only mode of transportation was wrapped around a tree and the only person capable of operating it was out cold.
I glanced at the side mirror. It was dangling by a wire, broken off in the crash.
It was hard to see through the rain, but I could tell the guy was getting closer.
My head was pounding. I must've bumped it in the crash harder than I thought. I shook my head, trying to clear the haziness.
It looked like there were two masked men walking towards us, with the exact same movements, fading in and out. Even with double vision, I could clearly see the white mask over his face. A chill slid down my spine.
"Porter, wake up. We need to get out."
I tried to push the door open so I could get out of the small space, but it was stuck. It wouldn't budge, even when I slammed my shoulder against it.
"Come on. Come on," I cried, trying to kick it open. Pain shot up my leg, all the way to my hip. It was then I saw a trickle of blood on my pants.
A piece of glass from the shattered windshield was sticking out of my thigh.
I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat and steeled myself. This was not the time to lose it. I picked up a large piece of splintered windshield glass off the dashboard. I bunched up the material of my jacket around my hand so I could get a better grip on the piece of glass.
He was getting closer.
My hand tightened over the glass. I was going to stab the stubborn son of a bitch if I had to.
And it looked like he had the same idea as he unsheathed his knife. I didn't understand what he wanted with me. Maybe he was just fed up with me showing up at inconvenient times, and he'd just try to get rid of me.
He carefully rounded the side of the car, and in one swift motion, yanked the door open. I took the opportunity to swing at him. He ducked out of the way and slammed the door into me. I yelped and dropped the glass. It fell and broke.
My arm was aching.
As he came back over, I gritted my teeth against the impending pain and used all my strength to kick the door open. I muffled a cry as I felt the glass edge deeper into my flesh. It felt like someone was holding a torch against my skin.
The door slammed into his chest and the force threw him backwards into a tree. He fell and the knife slipped out of his hand.
I scrambled to get it before he could. Ignoring the waves of pain shooting through me with every movement, I hoisted myself out of the car and crawled over to the knife.
When I reached it and wrapped my fingers around the hilt, I felt something grab my wrist and twist my arm away. I cried out in pain.
The guy kicked the knife away and pulled me up by my sweater.
A car flew past us. The driver glanced over but didn't stop. I thought I saw her dialing on her phone.
I thrust my elbow into his stomach. He groaned but didn't let go. Instead, he picked me up by the collar of my sweater and slammed me against the side of the car. My head felt like it was splitting open. The world was spinning as I oriented myself.
He had the knife again.
I dared to place all my weight onto my injured leg and kicked at him, but he easily moved out of the way. I stumbled and almost fell over, but he grabbed on to my shoulder and pulled me back. He raised the blade over his head and swung.
I blocked his attack by crossing my forearms and forming an X. The blade nicked the flesh of my arm. The cut wasn't shallow but it burned. It didn't feel like an ordinary scratch.
He struggled against my arms. "Don't make me hurt you," he growled from behind the mask.
"If this is what unhurt looks like to you, then I think we have two different definitions of the word," I said.
The distance between the tip of the knife and my chest was slowly shrinking as he overpowered me. He was tall and strong. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hold him back for long.
Something came out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground.
"Porter!" I yelled.
The blood matted in his hair turned pink in the rain as it trailed down the side of his face. He looked paler than usual.
"Are you okay?" he breathed.
I didn't have a chance to respond because the masked guy pushed Porter off of him and picked up the knife. He made a frustrated noise and I watched in slow motion as he aimed the point of the blade at Porter's neck.
His eyes widened but he wouldn't be quick enough to stop the attack.
My chest squeezed as my body flooded with fear. I raised my hand. "No!"
I felt something like adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was like a current pulsing through my body.
The masked man flew backward.
It was like he was thrown back by an invisible force, whipped through the air like a leaf in the wind. His body hit the ground hard and he rolled to a stop.
I stared at my hands, horrified.
Porter was gaping at me. "How...How did you—?"
"What the hell just happened?" I screamed.
My entire body was trembling. I braced myself against the car and vomited onto the side of the road.
And then a sharp pain exploded in my head. I cried out once and hit the floor. The pain was crippling. I was sure I was dying.
Porter tried to crawl towards me, but something was pushing him back.
"Shit," the guy said. He struggled to take a step. It looked like he was struggling against a barrier.
"Grace! Stop it!" Porter shouted.
The car was rocking side to side. Debris and leaves were flying in circles around us. My head was on fire. I felt all the energy around us. It was electric and intense. It flowed and ebbed through me, zapping everything around.
Then as quickly as it appeared, the pain subsided. It faded until it was a tolerable pulse behind my eyes. The wind settled and Porter was immediately by my side.
"Are you okay? What was that?"
The masked guy took off running. He glanced back at us from over his shoulder. And for an instant, he seemed familiar.
I tried running after him. "Hey, come back!"
"Grace, don't."
I fell into a puddle as my legs gave out. The water shocked me. It was so cold. "I think we know him! I have to find out who he is."
"Let him go. He'll be back. We need to get you to a hospital," Porter said, helping me up. "I'm calling for an ambulance."
"No, I'm okay. I have to go after—"
"Forget him. We have to get going."
It was so frustrating. I wanted answers, but then I remembered the blood dripping down the side of Porter's face. "Fine. You're right. We need to get your head checked out."
"Don't worry about me. Your leg..."
I clenched my hand into a tight fist. "What was that back there?"
"You're asking me? Have you been holding out on us?"
"I don't know what happened."
"Well, whatever it was, you saved my life. Thank you," he said. "He was going to kill me."
"Now we're even. You did me a favor by tackling him earlier," I said.
I heard the siren long before I saw the car.
The sheriff's car pulled up alongside the wreck. A grey umbrella emerged from the car, followed by Deputy Sullivan.
He took in our bloody appearances and his frown deepened. "Someone called to report an accident and kids fighting. Said some guy in a mask was pointing a knife at a small blonde girl."
Porter and I exchanged a look.
Deputy Sullivan caught it. "What happened?"
I glowered at him. "So are you going to believe me this time?"
"Just tell me what happened."
"It was the same guy who attacked me and Quentin before," I finally said. "He jumped out into the road and caused the crash."
"Why? What's he after?"
"I didn't stop to ask. I was a bit preoccupied with trying not to get stabbed," I said, rolling my eyes.
The deputy ignored me. He retrieved some orange cones from the trunk of his car and placed them around the wreck. Then he radioed for a CSI team to come out.
"You both need to be taken to the hospital. And I'll need to get a statement afterwards. You should probably call your families too."
"I'm fine. Porter needs to get a head scan," I said, righting myself. "I just need a bandage or something. Oh, watch out—"
They both reached out to steady me as I started to wobble.
"Like hell you're fine," the deputy said, scoffing at me.
"She's stubborn," Porter explained.
"Annoyingly so," he mumbled. He crouched down and placed a hand behind my knees.
"Watch it! What the hell are you doing?" I said, trying to back away.
He lifted me easily. "Get the door."
Porter nodded once and ran around the side of the police car.
"Put me down! This has to be illegal," I said, struggling. My cheeks were flaming. "You can't just pick me up without my permission!"
"How do your friends tolerate you?" he asked tonelessly.
I couldn't help but notice that he was surprisingly gentle as he helped me into the back seat, taking care to make sure I didn't bump my head.
But then he slammed the door in my face as I tried to get out. It was locked so that I couldn't open the door from the inside.
"Hey! I'm not staying back here like a common criminal." I slapped the window. "Sullivan!"
Porter looked apologetic as he got into the passenger seat. I flashed a death glare at him, but he shrugged. "I know you're not happy about this, but as long as we get you to the hospital, at least you'll be alive to kill me later."
* * *
I was examined and cleaned and given a gown to change into at the hospital. I was left a pair of crutches to make sure I kept the weight off my leg. The nurse told me to avoid any strenuous activities so that I wouldn't open up my stitches.
With how things have been lately, it would take a miracle to avoid any strenuous activities.
Porter's head scan showed that he had a minor bump, but luckily he didn't have a concussion. He was allowed to leave. He said he would try to get a hold of Quentin and tell him what happened. Both of our phones were still in his wreck of a the car.
I shivered as I remembered what happened earlier.
I didn't touch the guy, but it was like I had.
It was because of me that he had been thrown back like that. I still wasn't able to wrap my mind around it. All the chaos that was happening was caused by me too. Thinking about it made my heart race, but not in a good way. It make me feel nervous and sick.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it happen again. I tried moving the remote closer to me, but it remained still. I even tried it with a napkin, but no luck.
The headaches were gone too.
Something was definitely happening to me.
The door flung open and Paige burst in.
Her eyes were misty and her nose was red, like she was just crying. She sobbed once as she ran over to me and threw her arms around my neck. "Oh my God. I was so scared."
I placed a hand on her back. "I'm alright."
My parents were hesitating by the door. They looked relieved to see me, but they kept glancing at each other and then looking over at us.
"Honey, we're so glad you're fine," Mom said, leaning into Dad.
He wrapped a protective arm around her. "The police are gonna catch this guy. We're not letting him near you again."
"I'm not too worried about that right now...but what's going on? Why is everyone acting so weird?" I asked.
"She should know," Paige said to my parents. Her voice was pure heartbreak.
Mom bit her lip. "I can't say it. Please."
I glanced around the room. "You guys are scaring me."
"Paige, she was just in a traumatic accident—"
"I won't keep this from her," she whispered.
"What is it?" I demanded.
Dad cleared his throat. "Grace, you know that we—"
She cut him off. "How can you even call her that?"
I watched as my mother burst into tears.
"We never wanted you to find out," she said.
I looked at Paige. "What is it?"
She swallowed. "I got the results from my science project. I thought at first, maybe my results were wrong...because there was no way you could be type B..."
I felt my stomach knot.
My body numbed. I couldn't tell if it was from the pain meds I'd been given or the fact that I sensed I was going to have another bomb dropped on me today. I was still reeling from what happened earlier. I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle anything else.
She hiccupped. "We-we're not really sisters."
"What?" I choked.
Dad has his jaw clenched. "I will always think of you as my daughter, but the truth is, you're adopted, Grace."
A beat passed.
I waited for someone to tell me this was a sick joke, but no one did. They just looked guilty and weary. No one dared to look at me as I absorbed what Paige just said. I started to get angry.
"I don't know why you guys are lying. I look just like Dad! Everyone always says so," I said, my rage building. I almost tore an IV out of my arm, but Paige held me down. Her touch calmed me down.
She reached for my hand and squeezed it so hard that I could feel it through the numbness.
"Our dads were brothers. But that doesn't matter. You'll always be my sister. I don't care that we don't have the same parents or that you have a different name. You'll always be Grace Yearwood. Not some stranger named Ava."
* * *
A/N: Hello my lovelies!! I was so excited to write this one so I hope you guys enjoyed it. Did anyone see this coming? :)
Unfortunately this is the last of the stock chapters that I had in advance, so updates won't be as regular. I started a new job not too long ago and life is a little hectic right now. Please bear with me for a little bit as I adjust to my new schedule. You guys are always super patient and supportive and I really, really appreciate it.
As always, please let me know what you thought! And feel free to point out any typos or mistakes you find. I only read through this once so there most likely some errors in this chapter.
This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful MsKatTaylor for all the lovely comments <3
Kay xx