In My Dreams I Hold a Knife by Ashley Winstead

Chapter 15

Now

We practically ran, all of us fleeing the haunted Phi Delt house, desperate to get back to the white tent with its lights and music and safety. We didn’t talk—that was for later, when the image of Eric—damaged brother, deranged detective—wasn’t so vivid. For now, we moved, hearts beating fast, breathing labored.

Just as the tent loomed into sight, Frankie jerked to a stop. “I’m not going in.”

Caro braked so hard she nearly stumbled. “What… Why?”

“That, back there, with Eric? I wasn’t expecting…” Frankie blew out a breath. “I wanted it to be different, when I told you. Not tied up with Heather and those accusations. And now…I don’t know. I can’t go back in the party and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“We care about you, Frankie,” I said quietly. “We support you. Who you love changes nothing. We’re the East House—” My voice caught. We weren’t the East House Seven. Not without Heather, or Jack. Not with the way we’d started looking at each other, ever since Eric said the word secrets.

Caro hurtled herself at Frankie, catching him in a fierce hug.

“Whoa,” he said, rocking back.

“We love you.” Caro’s words were muffled against his jacket. “Don’t leave.”

“She’s right,” Coop said. “Even if you are a meathead.”

Something was wrong—Coop was trying to be lighthearted, but his face was drawn. Haunted. Eric had stirred bad memories, sure, but this seemed deeper…

Frankie scanned our faces, his own brightening until he got to Mint, whose eyes were locked determinedly on the sidewalk. Frankie’s smile deflated. “Yeah, well… It’s probably best if I go to bed anyway. I’ve got the parade tomorrow.”

Caro gripped him by the shoulders. “Frankie Kekoa, grand marshal of the Homecoming parade. Making us proud.”

He shrugged her off. “I’m just the first Duquette player to go pro. But thanks. See you tomorrow.” He couldn’t resist one last look at Mint, who still wouldn’t make eye contact, before turning and escaping into the shadows.

“God, if you’re out there, please grant me the power of seven vodka tonics to forget this miserable detour ever happened.” Courtney turned on her slender heels and stalked away, kicking up grass with every step. “I don’t hear you following,” she called.

With one last look in Frankie’s direction, we did.

Either we’d been in the quiet, creepy basement of the fraternity house for too long or the Class of 2009 had gotten drunker while we were gone. Either way, the chatter inside the tent was dialed up to eleven. Now back in the safety of the party, Eric behind us, I remembered my plan, the reason I was here. I could still do this. Everyone was gathered, ready to experience Jessica Miller 2.0. I could turn it around.

Courtney fled into the circle of Chi Os—but to my surprise, Mint didn’t. Instead, he turned to me. “Is it still red wine?”

I blinked. “It is.”

“Be right back.” He strode in the direction of the bar.

Was Mint actually getting me a drink instead of joining his wife? I looked around, searching for witnesses. Caro and Coop stood in a corner, having a heated conversation. Well, Caro was heated; Coop looked like he was a million miles away. My stomach clenched.

I was starting to wonder if I should walk over when Mint reappeared, handing me a glass.

“Are you sure you won’t be missed?” I nodded toward Courtney.

“She’s all spun up—I guess because of Eric. I’ve seen it before. I’ve got at least five minutes before she realizes I’m gone.” Mint took a sip of his drink. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you. I miss talking.”

I almost spit out my wine but caught myself just in time, making a graceful gagging sound.

The corners of Mint’s blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I feel bad that’s such a surprise.”

What was happening? I was looking at the old Mint—kind, smart Mint, the brave leader. It was like traveling back in time and getting another chance to talk to someone I’d lost and grieved. I had so many things I wanted to say, so many questions. Do you regret it? Do you really love her? What did I do to make you leave me?

But I didn’t know how long I had with the old Mint. The window could be closing, even now.

“I…miss it, too.” I swallowed, then cleared my throat. “I can’t shake how messed up Eric is. We graduated and then never checked on him. We kind of abandoned him here, where she died.” I shook my head. “I feel like a bad older sister or something. Is that weird?”

“It’s not weird. But Jess, Eric is nuts. I don’t know if grief turned him crazy or if it was in there all along, but that man in the basement was unhinged. Playing some sort of cat-and-mouse game.”

“One of us should reach out to his parents, see if they know. Hey—” I slapped his arm. “Also, what the hell with you and Frankie?”

Mint’s eyes darkened. “What?”

“Don’t pull that on me. You were icing him out, punishing him. How can you do that? Are you really so bothered by”—I lowered my voice, obviously not wanting to out Frankie without his permission—“Frankie being gay?”

“No, of course not.” Mint took a rough sip of his whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t give a fuck who Frankie dates. But he lied to me. For years.” Mint’s voice rose. I glanced around, but no one was looking. “We were supposed to be best friends, and all that time he and Jack were going behind my back. Do you know what that makes me? A chump. A loser without real friends. You can’t let people do that to you, or next thing, you’re a walking joke.”

Jesus.“You’re not your dad, Mint. And Frankie isn’t your mom. No one is betraying or emasculating you. It’s not even about you.”

His eyes flashed, color flooding his cheeks. “Not about me, huh? Well, you didn’t look too surprised when Frankie told us. And if you already knew, that means Frankie chose not to tell me specifically.”

“Oh, I wonder why.”

In a flash, Mint’s anger cooled into a calm mask. But his eyes were his tell—they turned hard and cold as flint. “I forgot you knew that story about my dad.”

“Yeah, well, we used to be friends.” I sighed. “I’m sorry about him, by the way. I should have told you that last year.”

Mint’s gaze focused over my shoulder. “He hadn’t been the same for years, anyway. It was a blessing when he finally died. Miserable and alone, like he deserved.”

Mint’s dad, a fallen giant, a hero laid low. There was so much anger in Mint’s face, in the clench of his jaw, the barbed wire of his voice, it bordered on fury.

I reached out, laying a hand on his shoulder. Cool silk, sharply cut lines.

He looked at me. “We used to be so much more than friends.”

My breath caught.

“Mint?” Appearing out of thin air, Courtney glared at my wrist until I dropped it from Mint’s shoulder.

Maybe it was the disappointment of getting so close to the old Mint, only to have him ripped away, but the words came out before I could check them. “Oh, good. Everyone’s favorite person.”

She stumbled a little in the grass, but caught herself. “You know what, Jessica? You lost, fair and square.” She raised her voice, sounding drunker than ever. “Do you hear me? Get over it.”

The words were like blades in my chest. I heard a giggle from somewhere close, and looked around, expecting to see mocking eyes looking back at me. People were staring—but not at me. At Courtney. Our classmates were whispering as she wobbled. To my surprise, the looks on their faces weren’t kind.

They weren’t rooting for her.

I straightened my shoulders. “Me, get over it? My college boyfriend cheated on me with you, married you, and ten years later, you’re crowing about it. I feel sorry for you, Court. How little has happened in your life that you’re still obsessed with this?”

The whispers grew louder; I thought I heard someone laugh softly. Courtney’s eyes widened. Her hands trembled at her sides, and she clutched them to keep them still. Was she just drunk? Mint’s words came back. She’s all spun up—I guess because of Eric. No—something else was going on, I could tell. This wasn’t a fair fight. But I was so hungry to beat her for once on my own that I kept going.

“Someone once told me that underneath the designer clothes and bitchiness, you were just an insecure little girl who desperately wanted to be liked. I think I finally see it. It’s okay, Courtney. We get it. You can stop lashing out.”

No one was trying to hide their laughter anymore, or bothering to whisper. I heard my name pass through the crowd.

Her face turned as crimson as her dress. Instead of replying, she ducked her head and pushed through the crowd, forcing it to part for her. Mint followed, leaving me alone, but it didn’t matter, because after a beat of fraught silence, someone who looked vaguely familiar—Brittany Lowell, Pi Phi, maybe?—raised her glass to me, and I raised mine back. And then I was flooded with people, laughing and commiserating. Jessica Miller, that was hilarious. Jessica Miller, you’re so brave. Courtney has been awful for ages; that’s exactly what she deserved.

It was a scene lifted straight from my Homecoming fantasies, so close to what I’d dreamed that it felt surreal to actually live it.

To my surprise, Mint broke back through the crowd, and everyone stepped aside, responding unconsciously to the power of his presence. He put a hand on my waist, drawing me close, his mouth brushing my ear as he leaned in and whispered. I closed my eyes. This was a dream.

“I’m sorry about that. Courtney needs to be alone.” He lifted his head, catching my eyes, and my body burst into a thousand sparks, leaking into the night like fireflies. This was the old magic. The pull and draw of him, the gravitational force. “Come talk to me?”

Motion over Mint’s shoulder caught my eye. It was Coop, stalking alone out of the tent, Caro nowhere in sight. Where was he going? Foreboding snuffed the fireflies.

I looked back at Mint. His face so close—achingly beautiful, like a prince I would have conjured when I was fourteen. The golden boy, the first boy I’d ever loved. I’d wanted this moment so badly, played it in my mind so many times. It felt like redemption, like a litany whispered in my ear: You were right. You were right. You were right.

Then I looked at Coop, disappearing into the line of trees, his shoulders hunched high with tension. Promising nothing good.

Mint, or Coop?