you were graduating as the valedictorian of our class, and you were so respected scholastically that I wanted your letter of recommendation. I didn’t know that you never sent it until the scholarship board informed me that they didn’t receive one of my peer recommendations, so I’d become ineligible. I understood everything once the announcement came out that you were the recipient.”
Owen finally let go of my hand and straightened up. The warmth in his eyes cooled as he asked, “So you just assumed I was the one who didn’t send in the recommendation? Why would you think that, Layla? If I hadn’t wanted to write one, I would have just told you. We were friends, dammit! I wrote the most honest reference possible. I told the board that you were deserving, truthful, hardworking, and so gifted that you should be the one to get the scholarship. Yeah, I applied, just like I put in an application for anything and everything that could help take the load off myself and my family, but I didn’t expect to get it. The Manheim tends to lean more toward students who plan on pursuing veterinary programs, since the founder was a vet. But I put my application in anyway since it’s open to anyone pursuing a bachelor’s in the sciences. And I put my application in right before you asked me for a letter of recommendation. If I’d known that you were applying before I sent in my application, I wouldn’t have sent in my info in the first place.”
I saw what looked like genuine pain in the depths of his eyes, and I had to jerk my gaze away from his face.
How was it possible that he really did send that letter?
Was this just another diversion so he didn’t have to admit that he’d screwed me over?
Did I believe him?
Really, it wasn’t possible that he was telling the truth. “Who else would have done that?” I asked coolly. “Andie wrote hers and sent it. She even showed me a copy.”
“I didn’t think that Andie knew why you were pissed off at me,” Owen said stiffly.
“She didn’t. I didn’t tell her that I didn’t get that scholarship because you didn’t send your recommendation in.”
Owen clenched his free hand into a fist. “I did send it,” he rasped. “If I remember right, the scholarship committee required three peer recommendations. It was an unusual process because they asked for them to be sent after you applied, with the name of the student applying and their application number. You, Layla Marie Caine, were applicant number 997-543-145.”
I wasn’t surprised that he could pull that number and my full name out of his head. I nodded sharply. “Too bad you never put that on my recommendation letter.”
I jumped when his fist connected with the granite. “I sent the damn thing,” he said, sounding agitated. “Who was your third reference?”
“Bea Stanley,” I said flatly. “You know, class president, cheerleader, very popular, very friendly, teacher’s pet even though she wasn’t anywhere near the top of the class. Everybody loved her. She was never late for a single class. Ever. The woman was perfect. It’s not like she’d screw up.”
“But you think it’s possible that I did? Did you ask her if she sent it?” Owen questioned sharply, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I didn’t ask her. She said she’d send it the next day, and she always did everything right.”
“So it was easier to believe that I’d screw you over than to ask her? What the fuck, Layla? I know you hung out with her sometimes, but you and I were close friends. Didn’t I deserve the benefit of the doubt, too?”
A single tear dropped onto my cheek, and I swiped it away ruthlessly. The last thing I wanted was for Owen to see me cry. “I thought so, until I found out you won the scholarship, and I’d become ineligible. It made sense that you’d been the one who didn’t send it. Especially since you’d been pretty distant toward me for a couple of weeks before I got the letter telling me I was disqualified. I got the news that you’d received the scholarship a couple of days later. I assumed you were trying to push me away because you knew that I’d find out.”
“That’s not why I was backing off,” he answered curtly. “What happened to Bea?”
“She’s one of those friends who moved on with her life while I was in school.