Girl Lost by Nazarea Andrews

away from the institute. We all know it.”
    “We could compel you to go back,” Aunt J says stiffly.
    I heave a tired sigh. “That would mean getting the lawyers involved. And I might not have come into my inheritance as a Board member, but I have access to my trust and I’ll get my lawyers involved.”
    Aunt J’s eyes are wide, and Grayson is staring at me, his gaze appraising. “It would cause a scandal,” she protests.
    I glance at my menu—where the hell is our waitress?—and nod. “Yep. It would.”
    “Why—“
    “Shut up, Jane,” Grayson says abruptly, and her mouth snaps shut. I swallow my smirk. He stares at me intently. “Why go that far? What makes it different now?”
    My anger wells up suddenly. “Because I’m not fucking crazy,” I spit. “And I’m not a pawn on her chessboard.”
    He doesn’t react to my anger—but then, Grayson is well accustomed to it. I grab my purse. “Unless there is something else that you urgently need to ambush me with, I’m leaving.”
    “Gwen,” Micah protests.
    “No,” I snap, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to see you right now—I sure as hell don’t want to hear your lame ass excuses.”
    His eyes fill with hurt, and I don’t care. I’m too angry to care—and I’m hurt. He chose to open this can of worms. He can deal with the fallout.
    “Let her go,” Grayson says softly.
    Micah opens his mouth to say something and then thinks better of it. He moves aside, and I slip out of the booth and stalk out of the restaurant.
    Our waitress still hasn’t made an appearance. Probably a smart girl.
     

Chapter 10
     
    I take Micah’s car. Because I know Aunt J will give him a ride, and because it’s bitchy and after that little meeting the least I can do is be a little bitchy.
    I think about heading to the boat house, but taking my kayak out alone is asking for questions from Grayson and Micah, so I angle for the Cliff instead. It’s sure to be deserted, and it’s close enough to the ocean that I can get some calm.
    I crank the music loud, letting Shinedown wash over me as I drive and try to blank my mind. I don’t want to start crying while I’m driving, and if I think too hard, I will.
    Thankfully, Crayville is small enough that it doesn’t take me long to reach the parking lot by the Cliff. I toe off my shoes and let my hair loose of the pony tail then hurry across the gravelly cement until I hit the rock that slants upward.
    The wind is picking up, and it’s stronger up here where it sweeps off the ocean with nothing to break it. I shiver, digging my toes into the crevices of stone to steady myself.
    It’s going to storm. I can’t help the little thrill of excitement at the thought—I adore storms.
    Suddenly the magnitude of what just happened sweeps over me. I stumble, dropping to my knees.
    Am I really so fragile that I need to go back to the city, to be watched and cared for? And if they think I am despite my censoring what I tell them about—how true is it? Maybe I should go back. It would get me away from Peter.
    Except I’m not entirely sure I want to get away from Peter. He irritates me and he confuses me—reminds me of things that are best forgotten. But he’s also bracingly real, and I never expected to have the Boy.
    Not really.
    Even knowing that he isn’t
my Boy
, he is closer than I’ve ever come. Every ounce of common sense says to run, but I’m tired of running. How do I keep doing something I don’t want to do, when he is so adamant about chasing me?
    You leave
.
    I can’t. I need college, to prove to my brother and Aunt J that I am not irrevocably broken.
    To prove it to myself.
    Leaving isn’t an option.
    “Gwendy?”
    I glance at him. His exotic eyes are worried, narrowed in concern. I bite my lip, and he drops into a crouch next to me, the bill of his ball cap brushing my hair as he leans in. I stiffen and he sighs. Sits back on his heels. “What’s wrong?”
    “Everything,” I whisper, and tears prick