Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“I went to see Casey. Told her the truth.”
“Whoa. How’d she take it?”
I shrug, because how do I even begin to answer that? “I don’t know. I just sort of left after that.”
“Okay…”
“And I went to the cops. Confessed to all of it.”
He flinches, rubbing his eyes again as he slides up to lean against his headboard. “Oh. Shit, Fenn.”
There’s nothing funny about it, yet I chuckle to myself anyway. What a difference a day makes.
“You told them about Gabe?” RJ presses, suddenly wide awake.
His urgency is a bit confusing. “Yeah. I had no choice. I had to do right by Casey.”
And weirdly enough, it felt liberating. Walking into a police station, willingly, had evoked a sense of freedom in me. I’ve been doing the wrong thing for so long that it felt good to finally do something right.
It felt right to do right.
The thought brings another chuckle, which fades when I notice RJ’s unhappy expression.
“What? You’re pissed I sold Gabe out?”
“Not pissed, no.” He shoves hair off his forehead. “But I wish you’d run it by me first. Sloane and I aren’t sure anymore if Gabe was the one driving the car.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
“We followed a lead the other night,” he explains. “I wanted to tell you about it today, or I guess, yesterday—” He glances at the sunlight peeking in through the window blinds. “But you were gone all day and night. Didn’t reappear until the fights.”
I nod. “I got a ride into town after I talked to Casey. Couldn’t stand to be on campus. I had to get out.”
“Casey?” he says blankly. “When did you talk to Casey?”
“I went over to her place this morning. That’s when she told me about her and Lawson—”
“What about her and Lawson?” RJ’s jaw drops before I can even answer. He’s not a stupid guy, my stepbrother. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t.”
“He did.” Then I forcibly exorcise all thoughts of my former friend from my head. I have too much other shit to deal with, primarily this bomb RJ just dropped in my lap. “What was the Gabe lead? And why the hell couldn’t you text it to me?”
“I never leave a digital paper trail, man. You know that.”
“You and your goddamn hacker morality code. What did you find out?”
“Gabe was with Mila all night. They left prom and went back to her dorm. She dropped him off here on campus in the morning.”
I suck in a breath. “Are you serious?”
“That’s what Mila says.”
“Then why did he ask me to meet him?” I say, suddenly feeling confused. “We were supposed to hang out. He would have texted me to say he was going off with Mila instead.”
“I don’t know. Who knows how reliable she is, anyway. And even if they were together, it doesn’t eliminate him completely. Mila doesn’t remember the exact time they left the dance. Gabe could have slipped out with Casey, crashed the car, then came back and left with Mila.”
“Christ. This is a mess.”
“What happened with the cops?” he asks grimly.
“Not much. I gave them my confession and then sat alone in an interrogation room for four hours. Dad came and picked me up. He’s staying nearby. Have to go talk to the lawyer again in a few hours.”
“Fuck. What kind of trouble are we talking about?”
“Dad seems convinced they can keep me from doing jail time. I’m less confident.”
We both sit on that possibility for a while. RJ watches me but doesn’t speak, as if he’s unsure what to say in this situation. I don’t mind the quiet, though. After all the talking I’ve done tonight, I’m grateful for the silence.
CHAPTER 45
CASEY
SLOANE FROWNS AT MY NEARLY UNTOUCHED PLATE AS WE CLEAR the table from breakfast. Dad had already left for campus while my sister and I were still in bed. On school days, he’s out of the house by seven thirty and in his office by quarter to eight.
“You okay?” she asks. “You don’t look so good.”
I scrape pancakes into the trash to the utter devastation of Penny and Bo, who are watching me with big, distraught puppy-dog eyes.
“Fine.”
Sloane starts rinsing as I load the dishwasher. The tedium is helpful, sort of.
“Just tired,” I add when she won’t take her scrutinizing gaze off the side of my face. “And not in the mood for school.”
We don’t say much on the drive to St. Vincent’s, parting without a word in the lobby. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as I force my legs to carry me to my locker. Not even the sight of Jaz’s grinning face can boost my lagging spirits.
“Where the hell have you been?” she accuses when I approach. She plants her hands on her hips. “I’ve been texting you all weekend.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I open my locker, weary fingers flipping through the stack of textbooks. “It’s been…intense.”