In My Dreams I Hold a Knife by Ashley Winstead

Chapter 17

Now

I plunged into the trees after Coop, heels slashing the grass. I knew in my bones something was wrong, so I’d ignored Mint’s incredulous face, brushing past him out of the tent. I forced myself not to think about what I was doing—leaving behind my dream moment, right when everything had fallen into place.

Away from the light of the party, into the dark heart of campus. I could feel it happening now, the old Duquette promise: We will change you, body and soul. The metamorphosis was supercharged, unfolding as I ran. My feet twisted in my heels, bruised and sliced; my heart pounded, turning inside out. Ten years of armor cracked and fell off with each footstep.

“Coop!” I called, voice echoing.

He stopped and spun. I kept running toward him, trying to push away unhelpful thoughts—like how long I’d wanted to do exactly this, how much it would be like a movie, running and throwing myself into his arms. Despite my best efforts, my heart still flooded with warmth.

He waited for me but was unable to stay still, pacing back and forth. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing?” I tried to steady my breath, but this close to him, there was no chance. Whatever layers of armor had lifted off me had taken my reserve, too. Now I found it almost impossible not to touch him. I lifted a hand as he watched.

Fuck it. I laid my hand over his chest, his soft black sweater, and he let out a deep breath.

“Where are you going, Coop?”

His heart raced under my palm. I curled my fingers.

There was no escape for me. No matter how hard I’d tried—both in college and after—I couldn’t resist him. Not for long.

His look stilled me. His eyes were desperate, and sad. “I’m going to find Eric. I have to tell him about the tweak.”

I shook my head, inching closer. “Heather having drugs in her system must have been a coincidence. You never sold tweak, anyway. You stopped dealing senior year.”

The truth was plain on his face.

“Coop,” I said, unsure. “You said you were getting out. That there were some things you wouldn’t do.”

“I know.” He reached for me, cupping his hands around my shoulders. “Listen. I was getting out for you. I don’t know if I ever said that, because I was an idiot, but it’s the truth.”

“I knew.” I met his eyes. He was handsome ten years ago—dangerously so—but he made me ache now. I wanted to kiss him. Hit him. I was at war with myself.

His gaze lowered. “You remember right before Thanksgiving, at my place.”

It wasn’t a question, because neither of us would ever forget.

“When I told them no, they said they’d come after me and the people I loved.”

I searched his face for a clue. “Where are you going with this?”

“Jess.” Coop took a deep breath and pulled me in so close I could barely focus on what he said next. “They came after me again, on campus, after break. I never told you because you were already so scared, already pushing me away. I panicked and ran to Bishop Hall. I thought they wouldn’t follow me inside a dorm.”

He barked a laugh. “But they were fucking crazy. They kept coming, and I led them right to your suite. I used your passcode to get inside and slammed the door on them, but they kept banging. They said they were going to kill my people, starting with you.”

I drew a sharp breath.

“I led them straight to you, don’t you see? I made a terrible mistake. I was so horrified, I told them I’d do anything. Sell tweak.”

“You did not.” I gave in to my desire and shoved him back an inch. But he didn’t let go of my shoulders, didn’t look away.

“It’s worse. Jess, I was supposed to start selling that night—the night of Sweetheart. But I got cold feet. They were calling, looking for me. That’s why I didn’t meet you out like I was supposed to, remember?”

I didn’t, because I didn’t remember that night at all past a certain point. I knew the memories were buried somewhere, but from the moment I’d woken the next day—an unreasonably warm February 15th—I’d done everything in my power to forget.

“What I’m trying to say”—Coop’s breath came faster now, his heart back to pounding under my palm—“is that they knew your dorm, and they’d threatened your life, and Heather’s system was flooded with a drug just like tweak.”

I finally saw where he was going and shook my head, pulling away from him.

“What if they did it? You know what they were capable of.”

The memory of a terrible scream—Coop’s—echoed back, and goose bumps prickled my arms. “What if they broke into the dorm, looking for you, and found Heather instead?”

“That’s insane,” I said. “The cops never said someone broke in.”

“What if they just knocked on the door? You don’t think Heather, of all people, would answer without thinking? She thought she was impervious.”

“They wouldn’t kill someone just to teach you a lesson. Do you know what kind of heat that would bring them? They weren’t stupid—they were smart, which is why they were scary.”

“But the pieces fit together,” Coop insisted. “Especially the tweak. It’s basically a smoking gun. All this time, I’ve been sitting on information that could’ve helped the cops find Heather’s killer.”

There was resolve in his face, and suddenly I saw exactly how this would go: Coop, the rebel, the outcast, the drug dealer. The poor one from the single-parent family. The unlikeliest of heroes, yet always rising when it was time, only to get cut down in the end. Always.

I’d even done it to him myself.

“Please,” I begged. “Don’t go to Eric with this. He’s looking for a villain. He’ll crucify you.”

Instead of looking at me—my desperation—with disgust, Coop’s face softened. It was a look I knew well. I used to think of it as one of his private faces, an expression he reserved just for me, a secret code for a secret feeling. I’d learned, too late, that it had always been bigger than that.

“I have to, Jess. If I’m right, Heather died because of me. I have to tell Eric, because it’s the right thing to do. And after that, I’m turning myself in to the police.”