as he opened the door and waved me through it. Thankfully, this interview had been much less painful than the last one. Probably because they had absolutely nothing to go on other than my perceived grudge against Bodie Jacobs.
In reality, I didn’t give a shit about that guy. I just wanted him to leave me the hell alone. Even if I hated him enough to fuck with his car, I wasn’t that stupid. Eighteen months in lockup had been more than enough for me. I had no intention of going back.
I’d foolishly believed that after my release from juvie, I would keep my head down and attend Harbor U for a year while I figured out how to get the hell out of this town.
The plan had sounded so simple.
But, then, Bodie happened.
Then, Thea and her crazy scheme for me to make amends with Violet at the party.
And whatever Leo and Hayle had been up to at the Backwoods Tavern last night.
What had sounded so simple was now more than complicated. It had only been twenty-six days, and everything was fucked up.
Maybe I’d been wrong...
Maybe I needed to escape this town sooner rather than later.
Maybe my disappearance would be better for everyone.
Chapter Two
Thea
No one was talking.
Leo had driven Tristin, Hayle, and I to the police station and back with no more than two words exchanged between us. And I didn’t like it. Shouldn’t Tristin be asking what the hell was going on? And shouldn’t Leo and Hayle be explaining whatever had gone down last night?
I knew why I was keeping my mouth shut. I couldn’t get Leo’s hurt expression and Hayle’s knowing, resigned one out of my mind. I’d blurted that Tristin had spent the night with me to protect him. But, as the detective had explained during my short interview, Tristin’s appearance at the Sharpe mansion around midnight didn’t put him in the clear.
Bodie’s car had been tampered with in the Backwoods Tavern parking lot sometime between ten-thirty and one. So, my confession had been useless. And now it seemed that all three of the Sharpe brothers were pissed at me.
I wasn’t sure what I’d done to incite Tristin’s ire, but the way he was keeping his entire body turned away from me in the backseat told me something was going on in that hard head of his. And I doubted it was good.
Leo parked in the driveway, which suggested he planned to leave again soon. To escape to the boxing gym he frequented in secret? I wouldn’t be surprised. Punching—bags and sometimes people—was how he relieved stress. And there was no doubt the morning had been full of that.
We piled out of the Range Rover, and before I’d even shut my door, Tristin stalked up to Leo and Hayle, his back ramrod straight. “What the fuck did you do?”
Leo’s neck went stiff, but he kept his voice calm. “We had nothing to do with Bodie’s accident. I swear.”
“Oh, really?” Tristin released a derisive laugh. “Then, why did we have cops on our doorstep first thing this morning?”
“They’re jumping to conclusions. It’s bullshit.”
“You know what’s bullshit?” He poked Leo in the chest, and I couldn’t help but notice how similar the half-brothers looked from this angle. That same blond-brown hair, those same broad shoulders, and even the same clenching of their jaws. Though there were differences—Tristin’s hair was longer, and Leo’s muscles were more prominent—they were two sides of the same coin. In looks and personality.
“No,” Leo said coolly. “But I have no doubt you’ll tell us.”
“What’s bullshit is the three of you putting your noses in my business in the first place. You had no right.”
The three of us? I guess my earlier assumption had been correct. Tristin was pissed at me.
Moving to his side, I said softly, “We were only trying to help.”
His gaze shifted to me, his aquamarine eyes as hard as I’d ever seen them. And his voice was just as unrelenting. “I don’t need your help.”
I sucked in a breath. The words were more than a slap in the face. They were a knife straight through my chest.
I’d thought we’d moved past the part where he pushed me away for the hell of it. I’d thought I’d found a chink in his armor...that maybe I was that chink.
I should have known better. We’d had sex a few times. Nothing more. He hadn’t spoken words of love or affection. He’d merely indicated that he wanted my body.