Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 154691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Get in!” I holler after rolling down the window.
Her wet hair covers her face, shielding her from me. She stares down at her feet.
“Get in, Lacey.” She continues to ignore me. I shove open my door and get out, wrapping my arms around myself. The rain making a shiver run through me. “Do you want them to find you walking on the side of the street alone?” I call out.
Her feet stop. I don’t want to scare her, but I don’t know what they did to her, and I’m not about to put anything past them. “Please, get in. I’ll give you a ride. Anywhere you want to go.”
She turns around slowly, walks back to my car as if we’re not in the middle of a downpour, and falls into the passenger seat.
I get in and close my door before turning the heater on high along with her heated seat. “Where to?” I ask, instead of any of the hundred questions in my head right now. I want to know what I can do. How can I fix this? But I don’t want to scare her away from me. Scout’s intent was very clear. If I don’t protect her, she will end up like Brenda Nash.
“Your place,” she whispers with a sniff.
_______________
“Would you like a drink?” I ask, entering my house, removing my wet Westbrook High hoodie and tossing it on the floor in the foyer. My father is on a business trip for the night, and the staff is off for the weekend. One of the maid’s daughters is getting married in Houston, and everyone was invited. I chose to send money instead of making an appearance.
She nods once. The only words she spoke in the car were for me to bring her to my house. Other than that, she silently sat next to me and sent a couple of texts.
I enter the chef’s kitchen and open the fridge. “I have Coke, water, Pepsi …”
“Any alcohol?” she asks in her soft voice.
I close the door. “Yep.” I walk down the hallway toward the back of the house to the den where my father’s bar is. I go behind it and bend down, opening the liquor cabinet. “Vodka okay?”
She nods.
I pour two shots and slide one across the countertop as she sits on the barstool across from me. She surprises me by throwing it back, and it doesn’t even faze her.
“What?” she asks, catching me staring at her.
“Nothing. I just … I just didn’t think you were the type to drink.” She had never been to Death Valley, and that’s where everyone goes to party, so I just assumed that she didn’t.
She places it back on the bar and speaks. “Another.”
I fill it up. And she does the same thing.
“I …” Clear my throat. “I just want to say I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” She raises her hands. “Don’t apologize for their actions. It’s not your fault.”
I sigh. “But it is. I’m the only one who saw Monroe with Brenda. I called the cops. Now they want to destroy me. And obviously they’ve noticed you hanging out with me.”
She takes the bottle from me and pours herself another drink. “She was in love with him.”
“Who?” I ask, confused by her confession.
“Brenda. She was in love with Dax. I think he might have been in love with her too.” She shrugs. “Although I can’t speak for him. Obviously.”
I begin to laugh and pour myself a shot. “No way.”
“Why don’t you believe that? Are you saying she wasn’t good enough for him?” she snaps, her eyes growing hard.
“No. Not at all.” I lick my lips. “I’m just saying … I would have known that.” Wouldn’t I? He was one of my best friends. He never spoke of her or even looked at her in the halls that I know of. Or maybe I just didn’t pay close enough attention.
“Well, you also didn’t know he was a rapist.” She growls.
I drop my eyes to look at my shot glass and let out a long breath. “You’re right.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighs, running a hand through her wet hair.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” I tell her the same thing she told me.
“I’m just …” She bangs her fist on the bar top. “I hate not having control. Being threatened. And I hate most of all that I couldn’t testify about what happened. I may not have seen what you did, but I knew about their relationship.” She pours herself another drink, and I see her hand shaking. “I was a minor,” she begins, putting the bottle down. “I couldn’t testify without parental consent, and there’s no way the Millers would have allowed that. They are close to the Monroes.”
My father had to sign for me to testify. I never thought about others needing permission.
“She had big plans after high school.” She goes on at my silence. “Brenda wanted out of this town and to never look back.” She gives a soft smile as if she’s praying for the same escape. “She hated all the money and the stuck-up snobs.”