Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance by Lindsey Iler (free ebook reader for iphone .TXT) 📕

I do as she says. The heat from the shower warms my skin, awakening parts of me I’ve held frozen in time. Overwhelmed by everything, I crouch down and cry. The harsh weeps are impossible to stifle.

The door swings open, bringing in a rush of cold air. “Delaney?”

“I’m okay, I promise.” I straighten, placing my face under the water. “I’m okay. It’s just a lot.”

“Just think, one day it won’t be.”

“Can that day come sooner than later?” A giggle breaks free. Laughing feels good, even when it’s full of broken pieces of myself.

I finish rinsing my hair and open the curtain. Palmer hands me a towel, and I wrap it around my body. She sits on the edge of my vanity, kicking her feet, her hands tucked close to her thighs.

“I want to fix this for you,” she says, jumping down and walking out of the small room to give me space.

“It is what it is.” I shut the door and blow dry my hair.

When I finally come out, my uniform is on the bed, laid out for me. Palmer is nowhere to be seen. I take my time, prolonging the inevitable, and slide on my skirt and shirt. I leave a few buttons undone and then continue with my socks. Black. Nice choice. With my shoes on, I reach to open the door.

“We got this for you,” Reagan says, her arm out straight, offering me a coffee.

I grab the warm cup and take a small sip. “Thank you.”

“Palmer told me.” Reagan nods at Palmer who doesn’t have a look of regret for filling Reagan in.

“What!” Palmer shrugs. “She’s one of us.”

“Doesn’t always feel like it, but sure.” Reagan wraps her arm through mine while Palmer reaches inside my dorm and grabs my bag.

“Dixon still being—” I start to say.

“Dixon,” Reagan interrupts me. “Yeah, he’s impossible to get to open up. At first, I thought I was good with it being whatever it is, but the more he keeps from me, the more I want to know.”

“It’s the Glass House Boy effect,” Palmer cuts in, taking up my other side. “They give just enough to make you want more, and then shut down. Keep pushing. These boys need girls who are willing to trek through the messy shit to get to the good stuff.”

Reagan and I give Palmer the same look of irritation and bewilderment as we walk onto the elevator. Palmer is closest to the door, while Reagan and I make faces behind her.

“You’re kidding, right?” Reagan finally says, her tone matching my attitude. “You and Marek don’t count.”

“How do we not? You all are the carbon copy of us. We’re the originals, and you’re the remix.” Palmer glances over her shoulder, acting cute, and sticks her tongue out at us.

“Marek’s been practically in love with you since he saw you swimming in a pool of blood, so you barely had to work for his affection.”

“Excuse me?” Palmer feigns hurt, covering her chest. “I hate to break it to you, but he almost killed me.”

“No, that doesn’t work anymore as an excuse,” Reagan argues. “And I’ll tell you why. He did it because he loved you in some twisted, fucked up way.”

“She has a point.” I sling my arm over Palmer’s shoulder and walk off the elevator with her tucked beside me. “You didn’t have to work as hard emotionally. He’s been putty in your hand since the beginning.”

“No, he hasn’t.” Palmer escapes my hold and spins around to address us. She bumps her back into the door, nudging it open, and practically falls into Marek’s arms. He picks her up and kisses her like he’s not going to see her tomorrow.

“See!” Reagan rolls her eyes at their affection. “Fucking molten heart.”

“What’s she talking about?” Marek sets Palmer on her feet.

Breaker is behind them, staring at me.

“She’s angry because Dixon is playing hard to get!” Palmer shouts at Reagan as she heads down the sidewalk to her class.

Marek and Palmer walk away, leaving Breaker and me alone, hidden by the large bushes lining the sidewalk to the dorms. I hear a muffled see ya later through the drumming of my heart inside my ears.

Breaker’s uniform is perfectly pressed, nothing out of place. The only thing that doesn’t fit the navy-blue slacks and sports coat are his tattoos and jewelry. Even with those, though, they seem to make sense together. His eyes work me over, starting at my feet and moving up my body. He allows them to linger a little longer on my bare thighs, admiring the small bow on the top of my knee-high socks. Every second or two, his attention jumps to my eyes.

Does he see the thirst in them? Or does he see eyes that match my father’s, the last eyes that saw his mother alive?

“Stop,” Breaker demands. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” I say, glancing away. It’s too much to look at him when everything about us is uncertain and cracked.

“Then why don’t you tell me?” He moves forward, lessening the gap between us.

I inch backwards. “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” He stalks closer. Once he reaches me, he grabs the damp tendrils around my face.

“You’re a bastard for leaving me alone last night,” I blurt out the whole truth, the kind I haven’t been able to admit to myself until he’s here. “I hate you for leaving me alone.” There it is.

Breaker grabs my chin and lifts my face to his. “Don’t ever be ashamed of telling me how you feel.”

“How do you feel this morning?” I grab the bottom of his coat and tug him against me, needing him closer.

“I feel deprived.” He bites his bottom lip, and I mirror him.

“Of?”

“You.” He grabs me around my waist and yanks me into his arms. My legs wrap around his hips. “I won’t ever do that again. I’m so sorry.”

“Even though it hurt, I understand why you did.”

“Don’t make excuses for me.”

“Give me a reason to stop talking