by Erin Watt
Grier’s left eyebrow pops up again. I feel the urge to pin him down and shave that fucker off.
“Great. The jury will love to hear about your deviant brothers.”
“What about them?”
He rattles more pages at me. “I have about ten statements here that say two of them date one girl.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It shows the kind of household you’re living in. It shows that you’re a kid of privilege who is in constant trouble. Your father cleans up your messes by paying people off.”
“I break jaws, not women.”
“You’re the only person on the video surveillance entering the building the night Brooke Davidson died. That’s opportunity. She was pregnant—”
“And the baby wasn’t mine,” I protest. “It was Dad’s.”
“Yes, but you were still having sex with her, as Dinah O’Halloran will testify to. That’s motive. Your DNA is under her fingernails, suggesting that she fought you off. The bandage on your side was newly applied that night. You have a history of physical violence, particularly when a woman in your life is verbally maligned. Your family is, if I can quote Ms. Carrington, without shame or morals. It’s not a stretch that you would kill someone if you felt threatened. That’s means. Finally, you have no alibi.”
When I was four or five, Gideon pushed me into the pool. At the time, I hadn’t really learned how to swim, which is dangerous when you live on the shore. I was fighting Mom about getting into the water, so Gideon up and threw me into the pool. The water rushed over my head and into my ears. I thrashed around like a helpless, dumb fish on dry land, thinking I would never get to the top. I probably would’ve grown up afraid of the water had Gideon not hauled me out and pushed me back in again and again and again until I learned that the water wasn’t going to kill me. But I still remember the fear and can taste the desperation.
That’s how I’m feeling now. Afraid and desperate. A cold sweat breaks out at the back of my neck as Greer picks up the last page.
“This is a plea deal,” he says quietly, as if he senses just how much he’s rattled me. “I worked it out with the prosecutor this morning. You plead to involuntary manslaughter. The sentence is for twenty years.”
This time when I clutch the chair, it’s not out of rage but helplessness.
“The prosecutor will recommend ten years. And if you’re good, no fights, no altercations of any kind, you could be out in five.”
My throat is dry and my tongue feels three sizes too big. I have to force the words out. “And if I don’t plead?”
“There are about fifteen states in the union that have abolished the death penalty.” He pauses. “North Carolina isn’t one of them.”
24
Ella
Steve and I have just finished eating dinner when my phone buzzes with a text from Reed. It takes all my willpower not to snatch up the phone and read what it says, but I know I can’t do that in front of Steve. He has no idea that I spent Friday night (and most of Saturday afternoon) in bed with Reed, and I’m not about to tip him off.
“Are you going to check that?” Steve asks as he sets down his napkin. There isn’t a trace of food left on his plate. In the week I’ve lived with him, I’ve discovered that Steve is a voracious eater.
“Later,” I answer absently. “It’s probably just Val.”
He nods. “She’s a nice girl.”
I don’t think he and Val have ever exchanged more than ten words, but if he approves of her, I’ll take it. God knows he doesn’t approve of Reed.
My gaze darts to my phone again. Willpower. I need willpower.
But I’m dying to know what the message says. I didn’t see Reed at school today, not even at lunch. I know he was there, because his suspension is over and I caught a glimpse of him on the practice field this morning. I think he might be avoiding me, but I have no idea why. When I asked Easton about it, he just shrugged and said, “Playoffs.”
As if that explains why Reed hasn’t called or texted me since Saturday night. I get that the team is focused on winning the championship, but Reed’s never let football distract him from our relationship before.
Some tiny, insecure part of me wonders if maybe he didn’t enjoy the sex as much as I did. But that can’t be true. I know when a guy is into me—and Reed was very, very, very into me this weekend.
So it must be something else. It has to be.
“Mind if I go to my room?” I blurt out, then curse myself for sounding so eager to get away.
Lately, things with Steve have been…okay. He still doesn’t want me seeing Reed, but I think he’s happy I’m part of the dance team now, and he’s been really nice to me since I got back from Gibson. I don’t want to threaten this fragile trust we’re building by revealing that I’m lying to him about Reed.
“Homework?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Tons,” I lie. “And it’s all due tomorrow.”
“All right, have at it. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
I try to look as casual as possible as I walk away. It isn’t until I reach the hallway that I start sprinting. In my room, I devour the sight of my phone screen.
Can I see u 2nite?
My pulse instantly races. God. Yes. I totally want to see him tonight. Not just because I miss him, but because I want to know why he’s been avoiding me.
However, Steve’s rules are clear when it comes to Reed. Meaning, I can’t see Reed outside of school. Ever.
Yes! But how? S won’t let me come ovr. And my curfew is 10.
Reed’s response makes my eyebrows soar.
I’ve already worked it out. Tell him u have a date 2nite.
Confused, I hurry into the bathroom and blast all the faucets before pulling up Reed’s number. Hopefully the running water will muffle my voice if Steve happens to walk past my room.
“Who do I have a date with?” I hiss after Reed picks up.
“Wade,” he answers. “But don’t worry, it’s not a real date.”
My forehead crinkles. “So you want me to tell Steve I’m going out with Wade tonight?”
“Yeah. It can’t be an issue, right? I mean, he said you’re not allowed to date me. Not that you’re not allowed to date anybody.”
True. “Okay,” I say slowly, wondering how I can swing this. “Maybe I’ll play up the reverse psychology thing?”
Reed snickers.
“No, seriously, it’s genius. I’ll tell him that somebody else asked me out, and how I really, really don’t want to go because I’m not over you, yada yada.” I grin to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I bet he’ll beg me to go out with Wade.”
“That’s evil. I love it.” Reed chuckles again. “Text me if it’s a go. Wade can pick you up at seven. He’ll sneak you in here and then drop you back at the hotel before curfew.”
“What’s in it for Wade?” I ask suspiciously. When Reed hesitates, I know I’m right to be distrustful. “Oh no—what did you promise him?”
“Val,” Reed admits. “I told him you’d talk to her about forgiving him.”
I stifle a sigh. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“They hooked up this weekend,” he points out.
“Yeah, and she was kicking herself for it afterward.” Her exact words had been I’m such a stupid stupid-face! “She doesn’t want to be one of Wade’s girl toys.”
“She’s not,” he assures me. “Seriously, I’ve never seen Wade Carlisle go to this much trouble for a chick. He really likes her.”
“Are you just saying that so we can see each other tonight?”
“No way. Honest, babe. You know I’d never put your best friend in a situation where she’s going to get hurt. Wade wants to make it right. He feels like shit for the way he treated her.”
I lean against the vanity and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let me call her and see if she’s willing to talk to him. If she says no, then we have to respect her wishes.” Eve
n if it means that Wade backs out tonight. But I’m hoping he’ll still help us even if Val isn’t part of the equation.
Reed’s tone turns serious. “Try to make it happen, babe. I…” There’s a pause. “I really need to see you.”
An alarm bell goes off in my head as we hang up. Is he breaking up with me?
No, of course not. That’s crazy.
But then why did he sound so upset just now? And why didn’t he try to track me down at school today?
Pushing aside my fears, I call Val.
* * *
Val agrees. I’m a bit shocked by how willing she is to talk to Wade, but I guess maybe she doesn’t regret this weekend’s hook-up as much as she let on at school earlier.
Now it’s just a matter of working on Steve, which I waste no time doing. I wander past the bedroom he’s using as his office, purposely walking very, very slowly as I pretend to talk into the phone.
“I’m not ready for that!” I say loudly. “Ugh. I’m hanging up now. Later, Val.”
Then I heave the biggest, most exaggerated sigh.
Sure enough, the aggravated sound lures Steve out of his office. “Everything okay?” he asks in concern.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “Val is just being crazy.”
A smile plays on his lips. “And why’s that?”
“She wants me to—” I deliberately cut myself off. Then I grumble. “It’s nothing. Forget it. I’m going to the kitchen. I’m thirsty.”
Steve chuckles and follows me downstairs, which was what I was hoping for. “You can talk to me, you know. I’m your father—I’ve got wisdom to dispense. Lots of it.”
I roll my eyes. “Now you sound like Val. She was trying to offer me her ‘wisdom,’ too.” I air-quote that.
“I see. What about?”
“It’s guy stuff, okay?” I wander toward the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “You don’t want to hear it.”
His eyes instantly narrow. “You’re not seeing Reed anymore?” It’s voiced as a question, but we both know he means it as a statement.
“No. That’s over.” I tighten my jaw. “Thanks to you.”
“Ella—”
“Whatever, Steve. I get it. You don’t want me seeing Reed. And I’m not. You won, all right?”
He lets out a frustrated breath. “It’s not a matter of winning or losing. It’s about me wanting to protect you.” He braces both hands on the granite countertop. “That boy might go to prison, Ella. That’s not something either of us can ignore.”
“Whatever,” I mumble again. Then I straighten my shoulders and paste on a defiant look. “But me dating the school quarterback? I bet you’d be all over that, right?” I make a noise of disgust. “Of course you would, because it’s not Reed.”
He blinks. “I don’t understand.”
“Wade Carlisle asked me to go to a movie tonight,” I say darkly. “That’s what Val and I were arguing about. She thinks I should go, but I said no.”
Steve’s forehead gets a deep groove in it. His gaze becomes thoughtful, then shrewd. “You said no,” he echoes.
“Yes, I said no!” I slam my water bottle on the counter. “I’m still into Reed, in case you haven’t figured it out.”
That calculated gleam in his eyes deepens. “Sometimes the best way to get over someone is to go out with someone else.”
“Great advice.” I shrug. “Too bad I’m not doing that. I’m not interested in Wade Carlisle.”
“Why not? He comes from a good family. He’s part of a school team.” Steve lifts a brow. “He’s not being investigated for murder.”
He’s a man-ho. He’s interested in my best friend. He’s Reed’s best friend.
There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t go out with Wade, but for Steve’s sake, I pretend to consider it. “I guess. But I hardly know him.”
“Isn’t that the point of a date?” he counters. “To get to know someone?” Steve clasps both hands and laces his fingers together. “I think you should go.”
“Since when?” I challenge. “You don’t want me dating, remember?”
“No, I don’t want you dating Reed,” he corrects. “Look, Ella. I love the Royal boys to death—I’m their godfather, for God’s sake—but they’ve been screwed up ever since their mother died. They don’t have good heads on their shoulders, and I don’t think they’re the best influence for you, all right?”
I stare back defiantly.
“And while I don’t think you need to be in a serious relationship at your age, I’d rather that you experienced what else was out there before you declared your undying love to Reed Royal,” Steve says dryly.
I still don’t answer.
“Wade Carlisle… He wants to take you to a movie, you said?”
Reluctantly, I nod.
“Tonight?”
Another nod.
Steve nods back. “As long as you’re back by eleven, I’m fine with you going.”
Oh, so it’s eleven now? Funny how the curfew was ten when I was with Reed. Am with Reed. We’re still together, for Pete’s sake. Steve just doesn’t know that.
“I don’t know…” I feign reluctance again.
“Think about it,” he encourages as he edges to the doorway. “If you decide to go, let me know.”
I wait until he’s out of the room before letting my smile surface. It takes a huge effort not to break out in a happy dance. Instead, I slip my phone out of my pocket and text Reed.
It’s a go. Tell W to be here at 7.
25
Ella
At seven o’clock sharp, the concierge rings our suite to tell us that Wade Carlisle is here.
“Let him up,” Steve says into the phone, then disconnects and appraises the outfit I’ve chosen for my “date.”
I decided to go with a wholesome look, so I’m wearing skinny jeans, a flowy gray sweater, and black boots with no heel. My hair is down and pulled away from my face with two green barrettes. I look nauseatingly cute.
Clearly, Steve approves. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” I pretend to toy nervously with the hem of my sweater. “I don’t know about this date.”
“You’ll have fun,” he says firmly. “It’ll be good for you.”
A knock on the door has both of us walking toward it. Steve reaches it first and opens it, and we find Wade standing in the doorway with a polite smile on his handsome face.
“Hi,” he tells my father. “I’m Wade. I’m here to pick up Ella.”
“Steve O’Halloran.”
As the two of them shake hands, I can tell Steve is impressed by Wade’s clean-cut appearance and classic good looks. They chat about the playoffs for a couple of minutes, and then Wade and I leave the suite while Steve gives me a not-so-discreet thumbs up.
The moment we get into the elevator, I roll my eyes. “He’s trying to be such a dad,” I say with a sigh.
Wade snickers. “He is a dad.”
As we ride down to the lobby, I make sure to put at least three feet between me and Wade. For some stupid reason I’m paranoid that Steve might have access to the elevator cameras, so I don’t want to do or say anything that might be construed as strange.
But once we’re in the safety of Wade’s Mercedes, the first thing I do is throw my arms around him. “Thank you so much for doing this.”
“No prob,” he answers. His grin falters slightly. “Did you talk to Val?”
I nod. “She said to call her after you drop me off later.”
His expression fills with hope. “Yeah?”
“Yep.” I reach over and pat his arm. “Don’t blow this, Carlisle. Val is good people.”
“I know.” He groans in frustration. “I mean, before you started hanging out with her, I always saw her as Jordan’s poor cousin, you know?”
My jaw falls open. “Oh my God. That’s a terrible thing to say!”
“But it’s true.” He puts the car into gear and drives away from the curb. “She wasn’t on my radar unti
l you moved to town and hooked up with Reed. And then suddenly she’s having lunch with us, and…” He shrugs. “She’s really cool. And hot.”
“Do you seriously like her or is this just a game for you?”
“I like her,” he assures me. “For reals.”
“Good. Then I repeat, don’t blow this.”
The rest of the drive passes by quickly. I’m a bundle of excited nerves by the time Wade pulls into the Royals’ driveway. I fly out of the Mercedes before it even comes to a stop, which causes Wade to burst out laughing.
“Man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chick look this eager to get laid,” he says as he joins me on the steps of the Royal castle.
“I’m eager to see my boyfriend,” I answer primly. “It has nothing to do with getting laid.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
The front door swings open the moment we reach it, and suddenly I’m in Reed’s arms and his face is buried in my neck.
I jerk away, nervously glancing around the empty parlor. “Is Callum home?”
“He called to say he’s working late tonight,” Reed answers, tugging me back toward him.
Our mouths collide and the kiss we share is hot enough to spike the temperature in the parlor. Behind us, Wade moans unhappily.
“Guys! Stop it! I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but get a room.”
I release a burst of laughter against Reed’s lips and then turn toward Wade. “I thought you were all about PDA,” I tease.
He pouts. “Since neither of you let me play, it’s no fun.”
With his arm still around my waist, Reed reaches his free hand out to slap Wade’s palm. “Thanks for making this happen.”
“No problem. I’ll be back in a couple hours. That enough time?”
No, but it’ll have to do. “It’s perfect,” I tell him. “Now go call Val.”
With a cheery salute, Wade speeds out the door. Reed locks it before swinging me up in his arms.