by Tijan
The female reporter frowned. “You think so, Derek?”
He nodded, organizing his stack of papers in front of him. “I really do, Nancy. She was very passionate, but we only report the news.” He held his hand up toward the camera. “Take a look for yourself. If you think Sheldon Jeneve might be wrongly accused, tweet us at #channelyessheldon or #channelnosheldon. Let us know what you think, folks. And on that note, here’s a part of her press conference. You can watch the entire video on our website.”
They switched to a video of Sheldon at the hotel, but I tuned it out. I had watched it many times already. I could recite it word for word. They were blaming Sheldon. As her beautiful face came to the screen, a scream started to build inside me. I hadn’t framed her. Grace’s death wasn’t meant for this. It was meant for more, so much more. This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t allow this.
No, no, no.
Then a reporter asked Sheldon, “Who cut your brakes?”
The screaming in my head stopped. My hands were clenched to both sides of my head, pulling at my hair, but the answer was given to me. Right there. Handed to me on a silver platter. I almost laughed. That reporter, whoever it was, just gave me a way to save Sheldon. I moved my hands and looked up, all of my inner turmoil turned off, and I waited with my breath held.
“Guadalupe Ramirez,” she answered.
Oh, Sheldon. She was so strong. She turned to look at the reporter. She’d been crying, but she didn’t pay her tears any attention. That was my girl. No matter who was coming after her, what was being done to her, she always held strong.
I had to protect her. This is my gift to you, Sheldon. It was not time, not yet, but when it was, I was going to tell her about our connection. She’d be so happy. I knew she would. She had no one. Those two boys were nothing. They didn’t deserve to be in the same room as her, much less hold her, be with her, comfort her. But no, I was wrong. They loved her. They protected her. Yes, yes. They were doing what I did. They would protect her, no matter what. I had to remember this.
They were okay. Yes, they were. They didn’t deserve her. No one did, but they would protect her.
My hands turned into fists. My fingers started to dig into my skin, and I gritted my teeth, but I didn’t feel the pain. The real pain was Sheldon, being with them and not me.
I should be with her, and I will be. I knew that without a doubt. One day. One day, she’ll find out about our connection, and she won’t be angry with me.
She said the name. Guadalupe Ramirez. That’s who had cut her brakes. This person had tried to hurt Sheldon.
It was decided. I knew what to do.
I would hurt Guadalupe Ramirez instead.
No one would dare hurt Sheldon after this. I would make the message loud and clear.
*
SHELDON
Corrigan was disguised to look like an Asian guy.
When Denton’s makeup artist heard what we had planned, she was all-in. She grinned at me. “I saw your press conference. Rock on, girlfriend. I say screw whoever killed your friend.”
“Thanks.”
Corrigan snapped his fingers in the air, pointing to himself. “Right here. I’m the double agent being sent out. I need as much help as possible.” He met my gaze in the mirror and winked. “Dim down my good looks. I dare you to try.”
The girl laughed, her eyebrow lifted. She drawled, studying his face, “I don’t know about that, but I can make you a different ethnicity. That should work.”
“Make it happen.”
And she did. When Corrigan left, all his golden brown curls were stuffed under a headpiece. His hair was black and combed to the side. He even had on contacts to cover his green eyes. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. I moved back and shook my head. “Doesn’t feel right, dude. You’re,” I waved a hand up and down at him, “not Corrigan, even though I know you are. You know what I mean?”
He laughed, and the sound relaxed me a little. That was all Corrigan right there, in his cocky husky-sounding chuckle. “See ya, Smalls.”
“Smalls?”
He didn’t respond to my question, but ducked out and headed to the car waiting. Mena was right behind him. She paused in front of me, not looking at me. Tucking some of her hair behind her ear, she let out a soft sigh. “I’ll watch him, Sheldon.” She looked up now. I was struck speechless at the seriousness in her eyes. She said again, in earnest, “I mean it. He’ll be safe.”
“Oh-kay.” I nodded. “Okay then.” I frowned. “Thanks?”
Her petite little chin moved up and down in a firm movement, then she followed behind. Closing the door, there were similar expressions to how I was feeling. Disbelief and just confusion. Denton seemed mystified, with a hand holding the side of his face.
“All right then.” Bryce broke the silence. “I say we have our own little pool party.” He took off after that, before anyone could agree.
Denton swung around to me. “Okay. My sister was confusing, but that,” he indicated where Bryce had gone, “is even more confusing. He and Corrigan seem to switch places every other day now.”
I shrugged. “The situation isn’t a normal one, you know.” A pool party was sounding more and more appealing. “Come on. I can’t swim, but I can drink and tan. Let’s get in our swimsuits and head out there. I, for one, would like to get wasted. Last night wasn’t enough.”
Denton grunted, falling in line beside me as we went toward the bedrooms. “Wasted? We weren’t wasted. Our conversation was too damn depressing for the alcohol to take effect.”
I laughed. He was right. Pausing at my door, I flashed him a grin. “Well, we’ll rectify that. See you down there.”
He gave me a salute. “I’ll get some more wine.”
My door was closing, but I yelled through it, “Screw the wine! Let’s do margaritas this time.” As I started changing clothes, I heard his laugh. “Sounds good.”
I was heading back through the kitchen to grab everything when I saw that Beth was in there. She was making sandwiches and she looked up when she heard me in the doorway. A small smile appeared, but the ends looked strained. As she stood at the counter, her head folded back down and her shoulders hunched over.
She seemed sad, beaten down almost.
I pressed my lips together. It wasn’t my problem. I moved around her to reach for the martini glasses.
She murmured, cutting some cheese on a plate, “If you’re going to drink margaritas, you need the good stuff.” She gestured to the pantry with her knife in hand. “There are better glasses in there. I found them yesterday. Much bigger.”
“Thanks.” I frowned at her, but went and found the margarita glasses she was talking about. She was right. They were huge. Grabbing a whole tray of them, I brought them back out into the kitchen. Then I started looking around for everything I needed.
Again, but without saying a word this time, Beth started grabbing everything I would need. She pulled out the ready-made mix, then grabbed an ice grinder and placed it next to me, along with a pitcher and a big wooden spoon to stir it all.
“Thanks.”
She still didn’t look at me, but lifted a shoulder. “I might be hoping to have one so I’m not helping out of the goodness of my heart.” Now she looked up, sending another small grin at me before she went back to her sandwiches. Pulling out a bag of deli turkey, she began laying slices on the bread, covering the cheese.
“Is that for my dad?”
“Nope.” She kept laying meat on the bread. “This is for you guys and your pool party.”
Okay. Enough was enough. I stepped back, turned my back so I was leaning against the counter and folded my arms over my chest. “What’s the game here?”
She stopped and turned around. “What do you mean?”
“What are you doing?” I pointed behind her. “You told me where the big glasses were, then helped get everything out for me, and now you’re feeding us? You’re acting like an upper-class mom who’s desperate to be friends with her children. F
or the record, that’s not what this is. I’m not your kid. My friends aren’t going to look at you like you’re suddenly the House Mommy. We’re not in high school anymore, hanging out at the house.”
“Sheldon,” she started, pressing her hands together in front of her.
It was the pity. That’s what I was sensing from her and it was grating on my nerves. I didn’t need her damn sympathy. I wasn’t asking her to be hateful, either, but I’d rather we go back to where she pretended I wasn’t around. I shook my head, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say and held a hand up. “Stop.”
“What?”
“If you’re trying to develop a friendship with me because of my dad, I’m going to clear the record right now. I don’t know why my dad stepped in to help me. Maybe he didn’t think I could handle it. Maybe he didn’t realize I had friends already coming to post my bail. I have no idea. Maybe it really was because he felt guilty over leaving his daughter and now she’s up for murder, thinking it was his last chance to mend fences. Again. No clue.” I fixed her with a hard look. “But trust me. Once I’m cleared, you and he are heading off again. I have no assumptions that you’ll be sticking around, especially if my mother decides to hunt us down and try to swoop in for some money. He’s for sure going to take off, but you and me . . .” I gestured around the kitchen, “. . .this whole Suzy Homemaker scene you have going on, it’s not going to happen. I will probably never see you again in my life after this thing ends, and it will end.” I had no doubt about it. “There are three ways this will come to a close. I’ll either be free, in prison, or dead. Either way, those are all endings.”
“You’re so jaded.” She looked down, folding her arms over her chest. It was a slight whisper, like she was talking to herself.
“Yeah,” I clipped out. “I am. I have been for a long time, but being jaded doesn’t mean I’m pessimistic. I’m realistic. That’s all. I’m not going to entertain any daydreams about having a father who suddenly remembers he loves me. He broke me years ago. He won’t get the chance to do it again, so please.” My heart was pounding and my voice had risen. I hadn’t realized how loud I was until Bryce came around the corner. He’d been there the whole time. I could tell with one look. There was no surprise, just understanding.
My heart paused, then lunged in my chest.
He was seeing me, the real me, and there was no polished-Bryce between us. The persona he had taken on when he became a soccer player, then became famous, all of it was gone. It was just him, and my god, I had missed him.
I wet my lips, my throat suddenly dry.
He saw my response, and his eyes darkened, but he held himself back, shaking his head in the slightest movement. Beth couldn’t see him. He was standing behind her so as she started to say something, he began walking to the pool area.
“—sorry you feel that way. I am.”
I swung back to her as Bryce slipped out the door without a noise. “What?”
She finished the sandwiches and set them aside. Washing her hands and then drying them off, she stopped in the middle of the kitchen. Lifting her head, she looked at me, and I felt like she was looking inside of me, seeing me how Bryce just had. An emotion flickered in her gaze, and it was that damn pity again.
I wanted to reach up and grab it from her. She hadn’t earned the right to look down on me.
“I’m sorry, Sheldon. I’m sorry you feel this way. I’m sorry that it may even be true. You’re right. I’m not your mother, and I may never have the privilege of being your stepmother, not that I would expect you to allow me to fulfill that role, but your insults and this brash exterior aside, don’t take the words out of my mouth. When I say it would’ve been a privilege, I mean it. A privilege. A blessing.” A lone tear slipped from her eye, and she brushed it aside with an impatient flick of her hand. “I can’t apologize for your mother or your father, but I can only tell you that when I look at you, I don’t see whatever you think I see. I see my own child.” Her voice trembled. “I lost her four years ago. She was like you, hurt and lost, but she didn’t have your fight, and the mother in me is horrified at how jealous I am. I’m horrified too because what kind of a mother am I, to wish that my own daughter had half the fight you do. She chose to end her own life, but if she had fought . . .” Pure agony rose up in her eyes and her head lowered. Her lip started jerking, and I heard the struggle as she tried to control her emotions.
Regret seeped into my pores, but I didn’t know what to say. I had never thought about giving up. Even the idea never came to me. Give up? To who? Then some other dumbass would’ve won. Marcus. The sorority bitches from last year. Even this killer, whoever the hell he was—I’m sure the end for him is me dying.
“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. Beth wasn’t my enemy. I’d been treating her like it. “I didn’t know about your daughter.”
She nodded, but she didn’t look back up.
I had broken her. That thought occurred to me, and I bit my lip, feeling guilty about it. “Look.” I shook my head. What the hell was I doing? “I can be a real bitch. I lash out and sometimes, most of the time, I don’t even need to lash out. I didn’t know you had a daughter, and I don’t know what happened to her, but I’m sure she must’ve been feeling unbearable pain for her to do what she did.”
She sniffled and her hand lifted, wiping more tears from her eyes. She still didn’t look at me. I realized that she couldn’t. Whatever struggle Beth was feeling, it had nothing to do with me. Her daughter was in the room, pressing on her, how Grace pressed on me.
“If it’s worth anything, I feel like you were a good mom.”
A laugh in disbelief came from her. Still so soft, but it was there. It was a small break from whatever punishment she was feeling at that moment.
“No, I mean it.” I tried to think of my own mother, what she would be doing if I had chosen that route. “I don’t think my mom would be crying about me in some room with a stranger. She’d be bawling her eyes out at my gravesite, with press scheduled to arrive. I’m sure she’d call them and make sure they timed it just right, catching her breaking down or something.”
Beth laughed, still crying. “Your mom’s a bitch.”
“True that,” I grunted.
“Look.” She shook her head again and lifted her gaze. Big teardrops were there, hugging the underside of her eyes and filling up to fall down, but she ignored them. “I just wanted to let you know I’m not the enemy. Regardless of what happens with your father, because you’re right, I don’t know his history with you or what appalling behavior he might choose, if he will leave at the end or not. I just wanted to let you know that I admire your fight. You’re a survivor. It’s something I wish I had more of in me.” She moved forward and grabbed my hands. Pressing them to her chest, she lifted a hand to my cheek. Her hand rested there lightly. A look passed in her eyes, one that I could only conceive as mothering and loving before her hand fell away. She stepped backward and murmured, “You’ll come out of this swinging. I have no doubt.”
Then she turned and left.
I had no idea what had just happened, but a different sensation had dug inside my chest. No, it wasn’t digging. It was filling me up.
“Yo!” Denton popped into the room. A bright pink towel was around his shoulders as he only wore board shorts and sandals. “Oh good. You found the margarita mix. I’d forgotten where that was.”
I laughed to myself, shaking my head. I felt loved, and it came from someone who I had been a bitch to. Now I really needed a margarita.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I went out to the pool, but restlessness had settled in. Bryce was there, wearing his black swimming trunks, laughing with Denton. Then he posed at the edge of the pool and jumped in, his back muscles rippling from the movement. His dive was smooth, barely a ripple in the pool, and an anchor dropped to my gut.
I had to get out of there.
Had to, or I was going to go crazy.
Denton was about to jump in when Bryce
pulled himself up from the side, standing back up on the concrete again. He raked a hand over his face, wiping the excess water off, and he frowned at me. Oh yes, indeed. A vacuuming effect was going on inside me. I felt like he was sucking me in, pulling me to him with just a look.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to go,” I croaked. “Somewhere. I have to get out of this house.”
Denton started laughing. “You’re kidding, right?”
Bryce just frowned. For some reason, I felt like he understood what was going on with me and because he did, he closed his eyes and turned away. I frowned. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe that was in my head and he had no clue what was going on with me—no, that was me. I had no clue what I was doing. I started to wave my hands in the air. “Guys, I have to get out of here. I feel locked up, and we have to go, do something, be somewhere else. I just need,” I skimmed the walls of Denton’s estate, “outside of this fortress.”
“Corrigan and Mena are still at school.”
“Good.” I snapped my fingers in the air and turned back around for the house. “Let’s go there.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Denton sprinted so he cut me off at the door. He had his hands up, as if to physically hold me back. “Are you thinking this through?”
I lifted my shoulders up and held them suspended in the air. “I have no idea. I don’t care. I’m beyond caring. I just have to get out of this house.” A throb started deep inside me. I knew without looking that Bryce had drifted over to us. The closer he got, the deeper that throb burrowed.
Visions of grabbing him and throwing him against the wall were filling my mind up. They were very clear images. I could feel the smoothness of his skin under my hands, how he would be surprised at first, then he would catch on and reverse our positions. I would be the one pressed against the wall and his mouth—I swallowed tightly, dear holy balls—his mouth would settle between my breasts. A lump was in my throat. I was having trouble swallowing around it, but my imagination kept going.