between his innate sense of justice and the man who’s been all but a surrogate father to him. He’d be a mess, and—“Oh my God. It was Coach, and Arrow knows.”
“Coach hit a deer.” Sebastian stands and throws his backpack over his shoulder. “His car was damaged because a doe jumped out in front of his car on New Year’s Day morning. He even filed a report. Let this go.”
“You’d already tested the blood, hadn’t you?” He was too sure, too confident when he took me to the shop. “You knew something was off about the accident long before I started raising questions, and you’d already tested the blood.”
He shakes his head and turns away from me, heading toward his car. “Let it go.”
“I’m not going to stop, Sebastian,” I say, my feet crunching in the gravel as I follow him. “I’m not going to let this go. I can’t have the whole world believing my brother was responsible for what happened that night. Keep it to yourself if you must, but I’ll find out eventually anyway.”
“Fine.” He yanks his backpack open and pulls the folder out of it. “Take it, Mia, but I don’t want anything to do with this. Do you understand?” He climbs into his car and pulls away.
I take the file to my car and sit in the driver’s seat before opening it. The accident report for Emmitt Smith is on top. When I first scan it, I don’t see anything that would upset Sebastian, but then the words jump out at me. The officer noted the deer had been shot prior to the collision.
Why would Sebastian be so upset to see the deer was shot before Coach hit it? Maybe it was injured and that was why it ran into the road.
Or maybe the deer was a cover-up.
I drive to the BHU football facility and park in the side lot next to Coach’s Cherokee. I stare at it for a long time.
If the deer was a cover-up, he wouldn’t have scrubbed the underside of the car or put deer blood there. Even if he took it through a car wash, there’s a good chance trace evidence would remain.
I know what I need to do.
Arrow
I’m totally naked when Mia rushes into my room. I’m just out of the shower and my skin is still damp, my hair still wet.
She throws the door shut behind her and wraps her arms around my neck, presses her body against mine. She rises onto her toes to kiss me and threads her hands into my hair.
“Mia,” I say against her mouth. “What are you doing?”
She reaches a hand between our bodies, unbuttons her jeans, and pushes them from her hips along with her panties. “Arrow.” My hand is fisted at my side and she takes it, opens my palm, and guides it down her body, over her stomach and between her legs.
I don’t know what’s gotten into her. This is nothing like last night. This is frantic. This is the greedy kind of lust that isn’t ever about sex at all. She’s looking for escape, and I give it to her.
I cup my hand between her legs and drag my open mouth down the side of her neck. She arches into me, the cotton of her tank brushing against my chest.
“Arrow, please.” She lifts a leg and wraps it around my hips, trying to pull me closer. She’s still half clothed, and she rubs herself against my cock.
“Mia, slow down.”
“It’s over,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I know who did it.”
At those words, all the blood in my body goes cold, and at the same time, I want to pull her closer. I want to put my mouth over hers so she can’t say it out loud, to silence her and protect our last seconds together.
I step away.
“Arrow.” There’s so much sadness in her eyes. “I need to say goodbye.”
“What do you mean?”
“Make love to me one more time. I have to do something, and I . . . Please. Just let’s take right now. This moment. Because when I . . . I have to do what’s right, and you might never forgive me.”
Those words are a fist to my heart. “I could forgive you anything, Mia.”
“One more time. Please.”
“No.” I take another step back. “Talk to me first.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “I have to turn him in. I’m sure it was him and I have to . . .”
What’s she talking about? What does