Broken Compass Read online

  Dammit. “Syd, I’m sorr—”

  She runs out before I can even finish.

  Falling back on the couch, I let my head fall back and close my eyes. I wanted this so badly and fucked it up anyway. I lost control and made everything worse.

  Story of my life.

  Talking to Nate proves much harder than I thought it would be.

  Because he won’t answer me. He ignores my texts, my calls, and won’t open the door when I ring, when I pound on it again and again, until my fists ache and my chest burns.

  Grandpa is back—back home, back to his surly, loud ways. Back to putting me down, tearing me to shreds with his words, verbally cutting me open. He’s right, after all. I’m worthless. Ungrateful. Useless. Mental. A freak.

  Something my sister doesn’t fail to repeat, making sure I don’t forget it. I’ve lived with this all my life, and it shouldn’t shock me, but after what Grandpa said… about my sis hating me from the start, about the time I came so close to failing her, failing the one task he entrusted me with, about being an obstacle and not a person anymore, trash, not good enough to deserve any affection even as a baby…

  For some reason, that hit me harder than ever. Doubled me over like a kick to the stomach, and I haven’t recovered since.

  And yet Nate is the one I’m worried about, not myself. Despite our fight, despite the fact he wants the only girl I’ve ever really wanted.

  I’m lying in my bed late one night, my phone in my hand, when I hear a heavy thump from the ceiling, coming from above.

  I’m on my feet instantly, blood rushing in my ears. I’m pretty sure Nate’s room isn’t on top of mine, but a bad feeling churns in my stomach.

  Quietly, not to wake up Grandpa, I get out and climb the stairs, knock on Nate’s apartment door.

  His dad opens and scowls down at me from his impressive height. “What do you want?”

  “Nate.”

  “Nate’s asleep. As should you be.”

  For the first time, I don’t see the nice guy I’d always seen. From the harsh lines of his face to the flatness of his eyes, he seems like a cold-blooded motherfucker. How did I ever think he looked pleasant?

  “I wanted to see if he knows about the math test we have tomorrow,” I say evenly, shocked that my voice sounds so normal. “If not—”

  “It’s a bit too late for that, don’t you think?” he sneers, and closes the door in my face.

  Of course I’m biased, I think as I make my slow way back down the stairs. Now that I got it in my head that he beats Nate, I hate him with a burning fury I’ve never experienced before. He wasn’t nice just now, but I did knock on his door after midnight, with a lame excuse.

  Relaxing is hard. Sleep is impossible to come by, even if I try to convince myself Nate is fine, asleep in his own bed. Combined with the return of my family, it has me so wired I’m ready to start climbing walls.

  The prospect of falling asleep and dreaming isn’t helping, either. I’m used to being insomniac. I prefer it to the dreams.

  The itch to clean the apartment is so strong I feel it under my skin. The fact that I cleaned it yesterday four times over doesn’t seem to matter. I feel it dirty.

  I feel so damn dirty.

  The itch grows until it reaches my bones, and then I have to get up and pace, try to get it under control.

  Shit. I can’t believe I kissed Sydney. I’m so fucking stupid. I barely got her back into my life and I drove her away again.

  And Nate. Why wouldn’t he answer my calls and texts? I thought we were okay now.

  Pressure is building in my chest. Sometimes it feels like I’ll cry. I can’t remember ever crying.

  Or like I’ll scream. But it’s just this fucking itch.

  When Sydney was here, I was fine. She makes everything better, and now I’ve gone and fucked it up.

  I fuck up.

  I fuck everything up.

  I fuck people up.

  Oh God…

  Nate hasn’t made it to school. I don’t realize until fifth period, in art class.

  He never shows up.

  Even then, I think he’s going to appear any moment at the door and apologize to the teacher for being late with a grin and a shrug. Wouldn’t be the first time. Where I’m always early, Nate is often late.

  But like I said… he doesn’t show up, and I go through class in a strange daze. What if his migraine never went away? I text him whenever the teacher’s back is turned, but again I get no reply.

  What if his dad hurt him? What if he fell and broke a bone, and there’s no one around to help him?

  I’m out of art class and walking away before I realize what I’m doing. I have PE afterward, and it’s a class I enjoy. I’ve never missed a class in my life, except for that one time I had such a high fever even Grandpa came and sat with me.

  I think. My memory from that day is a bit hazy.

  But it doesn’t matter one way or another. I’m skipping class today. Taking a deep breath, I walk out of the school and to the bus stop to get a ride home.

  Testament to the fuzziness of my brain, I only remember that I’m supposed to walk Syd home after I’ve gotten off the bus, and I’m standing outside Nate’s door. Texting her I get no reply, and my stomach knots up.

  Damn.

  I lift my hand to ring the bell, and belatedly remember his dad last night, glaring at me. But I’m here, and what the hell, right? What can his dad do if I come by?

  I ring the bell before I lose my nerve, but nobody answers the door. I ring and ring, and with every ring, my stomach tightens more.

  Until the lock clicks, the door opens, and Nate is there, whole and alive and messy-haired, staring at me, hazel eyes wide.

  Is it strange I notice the pale green flecks in them or how long his dark lashes are? Whoa. My brain’s making those weird leaps it does when it’s sleep-deprived, and boy, is it sleep-deprived today.

  “You’re okay,” I say stupidly, and he blinks at me, seeming as dazed as I feel.

  “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t come to school.”

  “I… I overslept.” He’s dressed in navy blue pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved white tee. He snorts, but doesn’t sound amused. “Guess I’m still not one hundred percent after that party and the migraine.”

  That makes sense. “You’d feel better if you dressed lighter. It’s too warm in here.”

  “I’m okay.” He smiles, but it’s strained. “I’ll just go lie down a bit longer.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. Something’s off. “Your dad not in?”

  He shakes his head. “West, look—”

  “Can I come in?”

  He frowns, seems on the verge of saying no, then sighs and opens the door wider. “Sure, man.”

  Shuffling inside, he waits for me to enter and closes the door. He’s barefoot, and if not for the whole pajama outfit, I could easily believe he just rolled out of bed. His hair is standing up in all directions, and his eyes are heavy-lidded.

  “Have you eaten lunch?”

  He shakes his head, turns around. “I’m going back to bed. Make yourself at home.”

  I trail after him to his bedroom. I’ve rarely been in here. Nate doesn’t seem comfortable having me or Syd around here, which is weird. I mean, I’m the one who’s nuts about cleanness and tidiness, and they’re in my bedroom all the time. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine.” He sits down on his unmade bed, and I fight the urge to gather his covers that trail down to the floor and fold them. His hands clench at his sides. “You didn’t have to check on me.”

  “You weren’t answering your phone, dude.”

  His brows draw together. “The phone…? Ah shit. I dropped it last night. Might have broken it.”

  “Where is it? Let me have a look.”

  He glances around, still frowning. “I don’t… remember where it was.”

  What the fuck? “Are you high?” A thought hits me. “Did you take any painkillers? Th
at shit is really strong sometimes.”

  “Yeah… yeah, I did.”

  Okay. I’m not sure if I should relax or freak out more. “Which ones, Nate?”

  “The usual stuff. Hey, don’t sweat it. I’m just tired.” He shoves hair out of his face, and that’s when I see it.

  A new bruise.

  “Fuck. Nate.” I sink down beside him, ignoring his flinch, and take his hand to study the dark imprint of fingers around his wrist. “Who did this to you?”

  He yanks his hand away, face going white. “I said I’m fine.”

  “No, dammit, you’re not.” I curl my hands into fists so I won’t grab and shake him until his teeth rattle. “Tell me this: does your dad beat you?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  His cheeks flush and he finally turns to meet my gaze. His is angry. “The fuck, West? I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Take your shirt off.”

  He opens his mouth, closes it. Then he gives me a sharp grin. “Aww, you just want to see me shirtless.”

  “Fuck off. Just do it. Show me.”

  “Fine.” Jaw set, he grabs the hem of his shirt and yanks it over his head, letting it drop in a heap on the bed. “See? I’m all good.”

  Damn. He’s thin. Did he lose weight since we last had PE together? And weirdly, his arms look more muscular than before.

  But he’s right. No bruises, apart from the one on his wrist.

  “Happy?” he snarls, and fumbles for his shirt, shoulders tense and movements choppy. “Told you I’m okay.”

  “What about these?” The top of a bruise is showing on his bony hip where his pajama bottoms have slipped a little. “How did you get a bruise there?”

  “It’s nothing. Told you.” His gaze is pleading with me, but for what, I have no idea. To drop it? To leave? “I fell against the kitchen table. I was dizzy. But I’m good now.”

  All this makes no sense anyway. I think about the thump I heard, but that hadn’t come from the kitchen. I rub at my tired eyes.

  Think, West, think. How do the pieces fit together?

  I feel like everything’s moving too fast. Or I’m moving too slow.

  “Hey.” He bumps his shoulder with mine. His cheeks are still flushed, as if with fever. “I just… thanks for checking on me, man.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” I mutter, and sling an arm around him. “Okay? Anything you need, I’m here.”

  He nods, a slight dip of his chin. “Same, man. You think I don’t know the burden you bear. But I’m not blind.”

  I don’t know if to reply or pretend I didn’t hear him, but he turns slightly, slips his arm around my back and we sit together, like when we were younger, just breathing together.

  I also know things about him I won’t admit to. I doubt he wants me to know, or he’d have said something, but when you’ve known someone as long as I’ve known Nate, when you’ve spent so much time with them, it’s hard to miss the signs, and sooner or later, we have conversations such as this.

  “Fine,” I whisper, “and someday you will tell me about the scars. You promised.”

  “They’re old, West.”

  “I know.”

  Silvery lines on his back. They’ve fascinated me since the first time I saw them. They didn’t seem sinister then. I couldn’t imagine what had caused them, and Nate had brushed the topic off, like it didn’t matter.

  Now I have a theory that makes me feel cold.

  He’s right, though. They’re old. At least there’s that.

  The itch under my skin eases as we sit there, like it does when I’m with Syd. I can breathe more easily. I feel safe somehow, and I can keep Nate safe, too, while I’m beside him.

  Speaking of Syd…

  “Shit.” Reluctantly I pull away from my best friend and pull out my phone. “Syd. I left her at school alone.”

  “No.” Nate is already getting up, brows drawn in a frown. “We have to go get her.”

  He’s right. Christ, what if the bullies got her? How could I have been so stupid? Lack of sleep has screwed with my brain.

  “Hey, West. Breathe.” Nate pats my arm. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “Like you are?” I growl, and he winces.

  But a knock comes on the door before I can work myself up into a good panic, and when I rush and open the door, she’s there.

  “Missed me, boys?” she asks with a smile, and I just drag her inside.

  Neither I or Nate reply to her question. No need.

  The answer is damn obvious.

  “Hey, Cupcake.” Nate is sitting on his bed, his back propped on two pillows, his shirt back on. He grins cheekily at her. “What’s up?”

  “You skipped school.” Her gaze flits between me and Nate, settling on him. “You okay?”

  “Yes. Look, sorry I worried everyone. Those painkillers are damn strong, that’s all. I overslept.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not sick.” She bends over to kiss his cheek, and I can’t help but remember kissing her, my body reacting without conscious thought, tightening with desire.

  Turning sideways to hide my hard-on, propping my hip against the wall, I fold my arms over my chest and tell my dick to calm the fuck down. You’d think I’m twelve with all the boners I’ve been springing these past months.

  Though they aren’t random these days. It’s all Syd.

  “And Kash?” She glances around, as if he could be hiding in here, behind the curtains or under Nate’s desk. “Where is he?”

  I scowl at the mention of his name.

  “Kash. Name rings a bell….” Nate scratches at his jaw. Guy needs to shave. His stubble is darker than mine. “Oh Kash! Right.”

  “Jerk.” She gives him a playful shove.

  “He said he had to work. Something about tutoring. He should be back soon.”

  Interesting that Kash checked in with Nate. I file that information away, my attention still on Syd, at the way her tank top molds to her tits, the curve of her waist, at the way her mouth curves in a smile.

  God, her mouth.

  “Tutoring.” She sits down on the bed and crosses her legs at the ankles, leaning back, and I swallow hard as her tank top rides up, baring her stomach. “I got him those students. Glad it worked out for him.”

  “You and Kash are tight, huh?” Nate’s eyes are impassive, his grin fixed. “Best buddies?”

  “Not really. Not any more than you and him.” She tosses her curls over her shoulder, then fiddles with the hem of her tank top. “Still, I’ll be sad to see him go.”

  I think of how he helped us make up, how he helped when Nate was so bad off at the party, and though I hate how much Syd likes him, I guess he could be a good ally.

  Nate sits up, frowning again. “He’s leaving?”

  “He said so. Don’t you remember?”

  “Damn,” Nate says. “No, I don’t remember a thing. I was out of it that night.”

  He sure was. Cold settles in my bones when I recall how damn awful he’d looked, and that reminds me of my panic as I raced back here to check on him.

  Dragging my steps, I join them on the bed, sit beside Sydney. I don’t wanna think, I don’t wanna feel. Emotions rattle me, scare me by raising the stakes too damn high. So I shut them away inside, letting the cold encase me in ice.

  Until night comes, and they chase me in my dreams, wearing the faces of demons.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nate

  Kash is leaving? What the fuck? And it shouldn’t hit me this hard. In fact, I shouldn’t be upset at all. I should be glad. Isn’t this what I wanted? For him to go away and not hang around Sydney any longer, spoiling my chances with her?

  But it’s a fist to my stomach, a steel hand wrapping around my lungs and twisting. Hazy memories of Kash dragging me to the party Saturday night cloud my mind, meshing with images of him pulling me up from the bathroom floor and helping me downstairs and into the cab that brought me home.

&nb
sp; Of him standing at my bedroom door this morning, hands restlessly playing with the frayed cuffs of his denim jacket, asking me if I needed anything before he went to work.

  No, dammit, I should be glad to see him go. I barely know him.

  He barely knows us.

  And it’s so much better that way. West sees too much for comfort already, and Syd… Fuck, I’d die before I told her the truth.

  I’d fucking die.

  “Nate? You listening to me?” Sydney pokes me in the ribs and I grunt, shoving at her without thinking. “Ow.”

  “Sorry. I just…” …don’t like people touching me without permission, without me noticing and preparing for it, and since when do I have that freedom, huh? This is bullshit, and Jesus Fucking Christ, Nate, get yourself together. “Sorry.”

  West steadies her as I shake the cobwebs from my mind and shoots me a glare. “Careful, man. You could hurt her.”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry, Syd.” My breathing is choppy, so I try to hide it by leaning back and yawning wide.

  “You’re tired,” she says, and I feel fucking bad for manipulating her like that. Better than seeing me freak out, though.

  “Yeah. I think I’ll catch some Zs.”

  “You just woke up,” West mutters. “And damn, I should get home, make Grandpa some lunch.”

  Sydney glances from him to me. “You go. I’ll stay with him, make him something to eat, too.”

  “I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” I grumble.

  “Watch it, Nate.” West’s voice is a low growl. “She’s being nice. Say thanks.”

  I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says, sticking her tongue out to me and I relax a little.

  She doesn’t seem to have noticed anything off about me. Neither of them seems to have.

  That’s a fucking relief.

  “Be good,” West tells me, squeezing my shoulder, and nods at Sydney. “Call me if he’s being difficult.”

  The hell? “Hey, this isn’t kindergarten, Weston. Give it a rest.”

  He laughs like a hyena and heads out the door, leaving me alone with the one girl I want but who doesn’t want me back.