stop and look over at her. “You believe me, right? I had nothing to do with her murder.”
She stares at me for a long time, neither one of us saying a word. Then she slowly nods her head, not looking away. “I do.”
My muscles relax.
“But if the picture isn’t what your dad thinks, what’s the big deal? You could have just said it’s not Nova’s blood and they’d have tested it to confirm it.”
My hands land on my waist. “That’s true. It would’ve cleared me of that crime.”
She raises a dark eyebrow. “But?”
I release a breath and join her back on the couch. “I didn’t know it at the time, but she was underage. She had just turned sixteen and I was already eighteen. She told me she was eighteen, and if you’d seen her, Isla, you’d have believed her. I didn’t know. She told me right after when I saw the blood.” I hold her gaze, pleading with my own for her to believe me.
“Why would she lie?” she asks.
“After I got angry at her, she told me that she didn’t think I’d be into her. Same with her virginity.”
“Okay, okay.” She’s nodding to herself, looking down at her hands in her lap. She lifts her chin to meet my gaze. “I believe you didn’t know.”
“I swear I didn’t.” I reach forward and squeeze her hands, taking the chance that she’ll let me touch her. “She started spitting off all these accusations about rape and I got scared that she was going to go to the police. Or tell my father. Everything just steamrolled that night. I put her in a cab and spent the rest of my night getting wasted.”
She squeezes my hand in return, thank God.
“But my dad thinks that photo is something else. He thinks that really is Nova Brookes’ blood because…” I pause not wanting to incriminate my friends, but if she’s going to be my wife, she at least needs to know what I do—even if it’s not everything. ”The night of Nova Brookes’ murder, the six of us were the ones who found her. We were scared and reached out to the only people we knew would fix it, if not for us, for their own reputations—our fathers.”
Her hand twitches in mine and she sucks in a breath. “They think one of you or all of you murdered her?”
“I’m not sure what they think. I guess my father does since he told me after the father’s got the case closed that one day he’d come to me and ask me a favor. One I’d have to do unless I wanted that picture to be given to the police. Now, it’s his way of having leverage over me and there are some things he’ll call on me to do and I have no choice but to do them.” My chest constricts at the thought of our engagement being one of the favors.
Isla pulls her hands from mine and stands. “What kind of things?” she asks.
“I really don’t know,” I admit. “But that picture is not Nova Brookes’ blood, I swear.”
Her hand flies up to her ear, and she twirls her earring around. I give her a moment to consider what this might mean.
“Do you think one of your friends murdered her?” she says softly.
“Honestly?” She nods. “No. I believe my friends, but that doesn’t mean that evidence couldn’t be found to incriminate us. Who wouldn’t like to see five rich pricks be accused of a crime? But I’d never tell you any of this if I thought for a moment it was one of them.”
Again, she twirls her earring and her eyes study the floor. As the quiet seconds tick by I put myself in her shoes. Then she looks up at me. “Do you think you can still marry me?” I’m terrified to ask the question, but I need to know. This question now more important than when I asked her to marry me.
“I think so, yes. As long as these favors to your father doesn’t involve hurting someone or taking their life,” she whispers.
I stand and take her shoulders in my hands. “I’d rather go to jail than do something like that.”
She nods and leans in to embrace me. I wrap my arms around her and let my cheek rest on top of her head. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She squeezes her arms tighter around my waist. “For what?”
“For believing me.”
I blink back tears at the realization that Ford was right—this woman does