“Fuck off, Tate,” Scott barks at him before turning to me, “move!”
Just like arresting me in the middle of class, Tate’s threats end up being just for show, too. On the morning of my first court appearance, the clerk can’t find my name on the docket and then, come to find out, the charges had been dropped and nobody bothered to tell me.
A couple months later, I packed up and shipped out 30 miles to school instead of preparing for a trial. But, at this point, the threat of prison doesn’t scare me. There are far worse things on my mind. Like how I should’ve said something to Evie that night.
I should’ve stopped her from going to the park. I should’ve told her about Bowen and not worried about embarrassing her or upsetting her, because what she went through that night was so much worse. Because if I hadn’t worried about anyone’s pride, she might still be here. I should’ve acted when I had the chance. I should’ve done something.
I should’ve fucking listened to my gut.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Brett
One Year Ago
The grey stone townhouses and luxury apartments on the river give way to sprawling suburban parks decorated with bronze woodland creatures dancing on the hillside. Soon, the manicured subdivisions disappear and the road stretches along vast fields alternating between corn and soybeans framed by tracts of forest. So Ohio...
I feel like I’m outside my body, watching myself do things that seem so alien. I never bounce around from house to house, not knowing where I’ll be sleeping next. I’ve never been a nomad, fleeing out of necessity or boredom. I relish the stationary life; constant, predictable, and full of routine.
Now I’m a refugee.
I never thought I’d wake up one day and realize my home is no longer my own. And maybe it never was. It was always his home, and it’ll stay that way. I’m the latest infatuation, until I’m not. Some things Bowen will never share with anyone—not really.
“At least you still have your money and your skin,” Barrett reminds me, “like it or not, that’s what matters now.”
That’s what matters now…
She’s right, of course. I glance down at my pink racerback tank, the same type that Bowen nearly tore off me while I was fighting him, and the faint bruises along my shoulders and chest. A small price to pay, I suppose, considering the alternative.
Soon, there’s a lull in our conversation and we both become acutely aware of our surroundings. I look over at Barrett, and she does the same, acknowledging the eerie feeling hanging between us. But, regardless, she continues driving west, straight into the sun, keeping an eye on her navigation screen.
“Is this right?” she finally asks.
“It’s the address he sent me,” I look down at my phone and compare it to what’s on her Jeep’s dashboard, “it’s in the city limits.”
“This just feels…”
“Familiar?” I finish her sentence as I stare out the window at the honeysuckle lining the roads I’ve driven countless times before.
Barrett flips her turn signal and swings a slow right as though she’s deciding whether she even wants to. I can feel the anxiety begin to rise the farther we travel down the road, not another car in sight. When we crest the next hill and emerge out of the brush-lined dip in the road, my stomach drops.
Swiveling to the left, I stare past Barrett at Rick and Leona’s chateau-like home at the top of a distant hill and my heart starts beating double-time.
“Where the hell are we going?” I spit in frustration.
“That’s what I’m saying!” Barrett hisses back. “Why did he send us here?”
I nod to a gravel pull-off next to an access road by the woods, “Pull over.”
Barrett whips over and nearly skids to a halt as I glance at the navigation screen—ETA two minutes. Then I drag my finger down the glass, following the blue line toward our destination. It ends at a non-descript green square off the road with no other buildings or houses around it. I let out a frustrated huff, not knowing what to do.
“Is there even a house there?” Barrett murmurs, while keeping an eye on the road in both directions. “Are you sure that was the only app Bowen put on your phone?”
“What? Yeah,” I stammer, “I mean, I think so…”
But now I don’t know. Why did Colson send me an address so close to the Garrison’s property? Was it even Colson? Did Dallas miss something?
“Let’s just drive up and check it out,” Barrett pulls back out onto the road, “we don’t have to get out of the car.”
She follows the directions down a few windier roads I’ve never travelled before and finally turns down a long gravel drive lined with pines. Soon, the pines reveal into a clearing scattered with birches and ashes and maples surrounding a two-story house with dark wood siding, green metal roof, and wide front porch. An ancient, cracked tire swing hangs by a fraying rope from the jagged burr oak in the middle of the yard. Just past the house, the dirt path leads to a pole building with dented white metal siding, the edges laced with rust. Beyond that, the grass dips down and I can see the creek flowing just through the trees.
It looks deserted. I pinch my index finger and thumb together over the screen to zoom out, “What the—” my eyes round in shock, “what the hell is this?”
The more I enlarge the map, the picture becomes clearer. Our destination lies near the western end of the large green square. This square butts up right against a more massive green square with a house situated on the eastern side—Bowen’s house.
Barrett sucks in a breath and looks up, her eyes darting across the windshield, scanning the tree line around the house.
I stare at the map, paralyzed with fear, “Oh my god…”
Barrett moves to shift into reverse, “We need to go.”
Before she can pump the brake, both our eyes dart up to the rearview mirror as a pair of headlights whips into the gravel drive. The vehicle’s tires spin and the engine revs, kicking up dust in its wake. It’s coming fast. Both of us jerk around in our seats as it barrels through the pine tunnel, nothing but blinding lights in the shadow of the trees.
“Shit!” Barrett shrieks, grabbing the steering wheel.
But there’s nowhere to go, and it’s too late. The car bursts into the clearing and looks like it’s about to crash into the back bumper of the Jeep before it jerks to the side and skids to a stop, blocking us in. Only then do I see the rest of the car outside of its bright lights.
It’s a blue STI.
