Page 13

CHAPTER 12

Me: It’s done.

I hit send before tapping out another message to Callan.

Me: I’m exhausted. I’ll bring you and your miscreant friends the rock tomorrow.

He responds almost instantly.

Callan: Good girl. Now, ice your thighs, Little Devil. You’re gonna be aching tomorrow after that finger-fucking.

Heat rises up my neck, settling in my cheeks. He’s never going to let me live this down. I knew that the second I let it happen. There was nothing tender or sentimental about what we did in that hospital room. It was raw, depraved, and laced with hate.

It is what it is.

I’m done looking back. Done dragging the past behind me like a corpse I refuse to bury. Callan can taunt me all he wants, but I can throw it back just as hard.

Me: Fuck off, Callan. My vibrator does a better job than you. The first time…and the last.

With the knees of my leggings caked in dirt and my hair a tangled mess, I trudge toward my dorm room, silently praying Brogan isn’t inside. I’m too physically and emotionally drained to even muster the energy to check her location on my phone.

Dragging my feet, I move closer to the door, but just before reaching for the handle, I stop when I realize it’s cracked open.

A chill runs down my spine as the low murmur of masculine voices seeps through the gap. I lean in, trying to make out the conversation…

"Do you know when she might be back?" a man’s gruff voice cuts through the silence. “It’s imperative that we speak with her as soon as possible.”

Instinct screams at me to turn around and walk away. Lately, every surprise lurking around the corner has been bad.

But then another thought creeps in. What if it’s important? What if it’s about my mom? I don’t know why my mind jumps to her, but it does.

With my heart racing, I take a breath, push the door open, and step inside.

A man stands in the center of the room, dressed in black slacks and a matching jacket, his posture stiff and professional. He’s holding a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other.

My stomach sinks when I see the badge clipped to his belt. He’s a detective.

This is bad. This is very bad. He’s likely here about Evan’s case. Or worse, the mysterious tongue.

“There she is now,” Brogan sings, completely unbothered, as if having a detective in our dorm room is just another Monday night.

But when she catches the flicker of fear in my eyes, her expression drops.

I swallow hard, forcing my shoulders to relax as I pull my lips into a tight smile. “Hi there,” I say smoothly, stepping past him like his presence doesn’t send ice-cold panic through my veins. “Were you looking for me?”

My head stays down as I move to my nightstand, pulling the contents of my pockets free. In one handful, I set down my keys, a piece of gum still wrapped, and— shit —the rock. It lands with a faint thud against the wood, blending in like it’s just another meaningless item.

Keep it together, Avery.

“I was,” he responds dryly. “Fortunately, you weren’t as hard to track down as some of the others we’ve needed to speak with.” His eyes flick over me in an assessing manner. He clicks his pen again before extending his hand to me.

“Detective Klein,” he continues, sliding a hand through the air toward me. “I just have a few questions. Shouldn’t take long.”

I shake his hand, hopeful he doesn’t notice the tremor in mine.

I don’t hesitate. “This is about Evan Sanders, isn’t it?” No need to beat around the bush. If I dance around the obvious, it’ll only make me look guilty. Everyone knows what happened to Evan, so there’s no world in which I wouldn’t know.

Klein studies me for a beat before nodding. “It is.” He tilts his head slightly. “I understand you and Mr. Sanders were close at one point. Would you mind answering a couple questions?”

“Of course. Anything I can do to help, Detective Klein. How is he doing, anyways?" I say, sounding chipper, almost too chipper for someone being questioned by a detective.

Dial it down, Avery. Act normal.

“We’ll get to that,” Klein says casually, like he’s already five steps ahead of everyone else. “Would you mind telling me a little about your relationship with him?”

Brogan steps up beside me, her gaze locked on the detective. She leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “What’s this all about, Ave?”

I silence her with a quick step away, putting distance between us as I shift my full attention back to Klein.

“There really isn’t much to tell,” I say, keeping my tone apathetic. “Evan and I met through mutual friends.” I gesture toward Brogan. “My roommate and her boyfriend, who plays on the same hockey team as Evan.” I shift my weight, offering a small shrug.

“We hung out for a couple of months, and when we both decided we didn’t want more, things ended. No drama, no hard feelings.” I meet the detective’s gaze evenly. “That’s really all there is to it.”

Fuck. Did I say too much? It felt like I was rambling on and on and on. Oh, for the love of God, please let this end soon before I faint.

In between scribbling something onto his notepad, his eyes pull up. “And did you two keep in touch after things ended?”

Every time he looks away, relief washes over me. At least then I know he’s not analyzing every twitch and every tweak of hesitation.

“Sort of,” I say carefully. “I mean, he’s good friends with my roommate’s boyfriend, and I go to their games. Sometimes I hit the bar with them afterward. So, yeah…we see each other around.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal.

There it is again—that flash of a glance. My lungs restrict until he finally looks back down.

“And how are those run-ins?” he asks with his pen poised over the notepad. “Would you say they’re friendly? Or is there tension when you’re in the same room together?”

“Oh no.” I chuckle, forcing out a sound that I hope sounds natural. “There’s no tension. Evan and I are friends. If you’d call it that.”

Detective Klein hums, then his gaze snaps up, this time locking on to mine. “Well, I’d say so,” he muses. “I mean, you did go visit him at the hospital today, correct?”

My stomach plummets. I steal a quick glance at Brogan who’s mirroring the same wide-eyed oh shit expression that’s plastered on my own face.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“That’s right,” I manage, swallowing thickly. “I’ve been meaning to visit since he was brought in last week, but was nervous to see him like that. A friend helped me find the courage today, so we went.”

Klein doesn’t break eye contact. Instead, he flips a few pages in his notepad, scanning something before raising a brow. “This friend…” he says slowly, his voice measured. “Would that be Callan Cromwell?”

I feel like I'm being played like a damn fiddle right now. This man already has all the answers; he just wants to hear me say them. Worst of all, Brogan is watching it all unfold.

I swallow thickly before saying, “That’s right.”

“Wait a damn minute,” Brogan huffs, suddenly right at my side with a demanding presence. “You went to the hospital with Callan? Why didn't I know about this?”

“It was a last-minute decision,” I mutter, trying to steady my voice. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Tell me about this rock?” Klein says, tone stoic as he approaches my nightstand.

My head literally feels like it’s spinning from lack of oxygen. “Oh.” I laugh. “That little thing. I umm…I found that when I went for a walk this afternoon. Thought it was pretty cool.”

Brogan shakes her head but stays silent. She knows the words spilling from my mouth are bullshit. And I know it too, because I can feel my bottom lip trembling through the lies. It’s something I’m well aware of ever since Callan pointed it out.

Klein clears his throat, the sound deliberate as he rolls the rock between his fingers. “Was this walk before, or after, you went to visit Evan?”

"Before," I blurt out, the word slipping past my lips before I even have time to think.

Klein nods slowly, like he’s filing the answer away. "I see." He holds up the rock between his fingers, turning it slightly as if he’s inspecting it under the light. Then, with an unsettling calm voice, he asks, "Mind if I keep it?"

Panic surges through me, twisting my thoughts into a tangled mess. What the fuck do I say?

The silence nearly suffocates me before Klein cuts through it. "It’s just a measly rock, right? Nothing of sentimental value?" His voice is smooth, but I know better. There’s something calculated lurking beneath it.

"That’s right," I force out, nodding a little too quickly. "Sure. You can keep it."

“Wonderful.” He grins, slipping the rock into his pocket. Then, with a cheerful tone, he adds, "Well, I think that’s all the questions I have for now. If you think of anything that might be of relevance, call me.” He passes me a business card before turning toward the door, moving at an unhurried pace. “Have a good night, ladies.”

The second he’s out the door, relief crashes over me, but it’s fleeting. Now I have to faceBrogan and all her unanswered questions.

I look down at the card, reading his name over and over, desperately grasping for time because I know what’s coming.

“What the actual fuck, Avery!?” Her words hit like a slap.

I walk to the door, giving it a firm press to make sure it’s closed. Drawing in a slow breath, I steady myself before turning back. "It’s not what you think," I say firmly, but my words feel flimsy against her storm-brewing eyes.

She closes the distance between us, ripping the card from my hand and holding it in the air. “Then tell me what it is because from where I stand, it looks pretty damn bad.” Her voice drops to a low plea. “Do you know what happened to Evan?”

“No,” I spit out, no thought process behind it. “I have no idea what happened to him.” It’s the truth. I really have no idea who pushed Evan, or why. I know some of the Lords’ players had something to do with it, but I don’t know to what extent.

“Was it Callan?” Her voice wavers. “Please tell me it wasn’t him.”

“It wasn’t him,” I say softly, a knot forming in my stomach.

Callan’s hands are far from clean, but for some strange reason, I believe him when he says he didn’t push Evan. The problem is, I still don’t know where he fits into this twisted puzzle.

Hell, I don’t even know where all the pieces are. All I have are jagged edges of half-truths and stolen secrets I wish I never overheard.

If only I could rewind time and go back four days. I’d be a little more patient and just wait outside that locker room until Brogan found me. If I had, none of this would be happening. Now I have to do everything in my power to protect my friend from these dangerous men—one of whom is her own brother.

I have to lie to her so I can keep her safe from them.

"You want the truth?" I ask, raising my brows, feigning something close to sincerity.

"Hell yes, I want the truth!" she fires back.

I nod toward my bed and meet her on the edge of it. We both sit and I press my lips together, my mind racing. I have to choose my words wisely because once the lies start, there’s no taking them back.

I take a deep breath and begin. "Callan and a few of his friends from the Lords’ team asked me to help them with something for school. Once the other guys left, Callan and I started talking. As you know, we’ve never really gotten along, but he was actually being nice. Almost human, really."

I force a small laugh, like I’m still in disbelief myself.

"So, I told him how I was feeling about Evan being in the hospital, and in return, he told me about something he learned in rehab—how you have to face what’s holding you back in order to move forward. And somehow, he convinced me to go see Evan."

I pause, watching her reaction, making sure she’s buying this. When she rolls her hand through the air, I keep going.

"While we were there, Evan started moving. He even reached for me. I don’t know if he actually knew it was me, but he reached nonetheless."

I lower my voice as if the next part is an unfortunate sidenote.

"Then his brother, Liam, showed up, and he and Callan got into it. I think Liam tried out for the Lords at one point and didn’t make the cut, so he’s been butthurt about it ever since. That’s honestly it. All I can guess is that Liam told Detective Klein we were there, and the guy just ran with it."

She doesn’t look entirely convinced, her brows knitted together as she searches my face for any sign of deceit. "And the rock?" she presses.

"It really is just a stupid rock. I don’t even know why he wanted it.” I keep my voice casual, as if I’m just as confused as she is. “Maybe he has a kid who collects them."

The seconds stretch as I wait for a response.

"Okay," she quips, shoulders lifting in a quick shrug. "I believe you."

“You do?" The words tumble out too fast and too desperate.

She nods, her expression open and trusting, which feels like a knife straight to the chest. "Of course I do. I mean, you have no reason to lie to me."

My stomach twists into a thousand tiny knots of guilt. I’m the worst. Lying to her, keeping secrets, pretending I have this under control. Everything just keeps stacking up, one deception after another.

"This whole situation is just so fucked up," she continues, twirling the ends of her blonde hair around her finger. "I can’t believe anyone would ever want to hurt Evan. Hayes thinks it was his brother, Liam. Apparently, Liam’s always been jealous of him."

My eyes widen. Liam?

That’s impossible. Liam was far too kind and protective.

Besides, I know it was the guys. But it seems I’m the only one who connected the dots.No one else suspects a thing. Just me—alone with a truth I can’t share.