to Brittany Pots was unfortunate, and it would take a real sociopath to commit a crime like that and frame someone else for it, thereby pitting the both of you against each other. After sitting down with you, after meeting you, I don’t think you have it in you.”
I watched him get up, watched him smooth out his suit jacket, a look of concern on his face.
“But, I suppose that’s the thing about sociopaths, isn’t it? They’re the ones who hide the best, the ones who are good at what they do.” Oliver let out a sigh, suddenly looking tired.
I sat there, not moving an inch, not knowing what to do. Was Oliver Fitzpatrick telling me these things to disarm me, to placate me, while he and Jacob went around and gathered evidence to make me look guilty? Jaz was their priority, not me, not making me feel better about my shitstorm of a life.
Oliver looked at me. “Do you want to talk to Jaz, since you’re here?”
That was like dangling a piece of freshly cooked and perfectly seasoned meat in front of a starving person. Yes, I wanted to talk to her, to see her, to…to come to terms with the strange feelings inside of me in spite of it all, but I also knew that if I took the entire bait, I’d probably get sick. When you were starving, you had to move slow.
“You won’t be alone, of course,” Oliver added, gesturing to the hall Jacob had disappeared down. “Jacob’s nearby, should anything happen, plus we have you on camera coming in. However, if there’s anything you two need to discuss, I would do it now. It would seem waiting to do anything in this town is detrimental.”
My gaze dropped to my hands, and I stared at them hard. Either Oliver was a good actor, or he’d somehow managed to say the right things to make me question everything.
God, I was such an ass, and all for what? For my mom? Look at what was happening now—time was ticking. It was only a matter of time until what little I had left exploded in front of me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Everything was pointless now. Inevitable.
“I’ll see if she wants to come down,” Oliver said, taking the lead. He grabbed his briefcase and left the room, leaving me alone to get lost in my thoughts.
If Jaz blamed me, and I blamed her, and we were both wrong…where did that leave us? Where could that leave us? At this point, there probably wasn’t an us to begin with, not after everything.
The room grew silent, and it was nearly overpowering. My shoulders felt heavy, and I knew I should get up and leave, just go. Seeing Jaz, talking to her, it wouldn’t end well. Nothing between us had ever ended well. Brittany was dead, and the police were still looking for her body. Jaz was their prime suspect, even if she had Oliver Fitzpatrick on her side. Ryan and his friends were dead, too. We’d started our whole relationship on a lie because I’d wanted to feel something real.
No, I didn’t think there was any going back for us. No starting over, no redo. This wasn’t a videogame; you couldn’t hit the restart button and begin everything anew. Life just wasn’t like that.
By the time I’d finally decided to leave, that it was better for all of us if I didn’t talk to Jaz, I nearly walked right into the girl herself.
I immediately took a step back, my body warming in what I could only describe as confusion and lust mixed together. I was a walking conundrum, a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and even though I knew it would be best if Jaz and I went our separate ways, I couldn’t help but want the opposite.
How could I go from suspecting her, hating her because she set her dog Dante on me, to craving her so desperately I couldn’t think straight? What the hell was wrong with me?
“Jaz,” I whispered, both feeling and sounding lame. So lame.
Her dark eyes studied me, and I wondered what she saw right then: someone who was confused, someone who wanted to make a mad dash to the front door and leave, or someone who wanted to apologize profusely, even though it was pointless now?
“Ollie said you wanted to talk to me,” Jaz spoke, rubbing her arm. She bit her bottom lip, and I was suddenly struck with the