his car. I watched as he got in, threw a glare my way, and started up the engine, driving off in a hurry. My eyes followed him as he went, something inside me telling me things weren’t over with Archer yet.
Of course, if I’d have known my antics would get Archer to do what he did next, I might’ve rethought my plan—because, as I would find out, that bastard went straight to the Fitzpatrick’s house.
Chapter Seven – Archer
I was angry. I was upset. I was everything I shouldn’t be, which was why I did something that was probably a bad idea: instead of driving home after school and that infuriating encounter with Dante, I went to Oliver Fitzpatrick’s house. Jaz wasn’t there yet; I knew because I hadn’t seen her leave the school while I was talking to Dante.
Even after all this time, even after everything she’d done to me, I still couldn’t help but pay attention to her.
It was stupid, wasn’t it? Stupid was the word of the year when it came to Jaz and me, everything between us. We never should’ve hooked up, I never should’ve let my heart start to feel something for her while I was in a fake relationship with the queen bee of the school. Now I was paying for it, and it was so stupid and annoying I couldn’t take it anymore.
My plan? My plan was to go to Oliver Fitzpatrick and talk to him. He refused to be my father’s lawyer, and yet he was playing Jaz’s advocate? How the hell did that work?
With knuckles that were mostly white, I drove to the Fitzpatrick mansion with a rapidly-beating heart and nervous sweat lining my brow.
Dante thought I’d killed Brittany and purposefully framed Jaz? Why the fuck would I do that? It didn’t make sense. I wouldn’t…I might be a liar, but I liked to think I lied only when necessary, when the situation called for it. Brittany had me by the balls when she’d discovered the truth about what my father had done, and she knew it. She played her hand, used it to keep me close, to get me into her bed—and her into mine.
And she’d thought she was pregnant. Like I’d murder my fake pregnant girlfriend? I wasn’t a monster. I wasn’t like Dante or Jaz. I wasn’t, so why did everyone think of me like that?
No, I might be a liar, but I wasn’t a killer.
There was another time, in the far, distant past, when I would’ve said I was smart, too. Brittany and I had always been careful, but…somehow we’d gotten into this big, hideous mess, and now that she was gone, I couldn’t get out of it.
I pulled into the driveway, stopping near the guardhouse. Hitting the button, I rolled down my window to talk to the guard stationed there, the same one that had been here before, when I’d taken Jaz someplace private to talk. Yeah, that had been a mistake. A big one. My jaw still hurt when I thought about it.
“I need to see Oliver Fitzpatrick,” I told him, and the guard gave me a frown as he turned away from me. He didn’t open the gate immediately; if I had to guess, I’d say he gave me his back to call the man himself. “It’s Archer Vega,” I added, realizing it might be helpful to give my name, give Oliver a reason to see me.
Was I still bitter that he’d refused my dad as a client? Yes, yes I was, but for my mom, for what it meant for her. Our money would run out eventually, and then…what would I do? Maybe that was why I’d had enough of this. I needed to get something under control, and since I couldn’t fix that, I went to the next best thing: the disaster that was Jazmine Smith.
The guard poked his head out, saying, “Mr. Fitzpatrick is at the office right now, but he’ll drop everything and come home. I’m not to let you in the house without him.”
“Then I’ll wait,” I said, aware I sounded like an ass. Like a pushy, annoying ass who had nothing better to do. I sat in my car, just before the gate, trying to focus on the radio, on whatever song was playing, but I couldn’t. I could hardly hear anything over the pace of my heart. It was strange, but I felt nervous about this.
What was I going to say? How could I convince Oliver Fitzpatrick that