made it hard to see, and I shouldn’t have been driving.”
“You killed Brogan,” Mason says. He steps toward her, hands clenched at his sides, and Chris grabs him before he can go further. “Get out of my fucking apartment.”
Trish wraps her arms around her knees and rocks herself back and forth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do, and Dad said he’d take care of it. He told me to go to bed, and when I woke up the next morning, the cops had already been there to file the report on the deer, and he’d already made Arrow think he’d been driving.” She looks so pathetic, so utterly destroyed that I can’t hate her like I want to. Hate would be so much easier than this mess.
My head snaps up. “Sebastian, did you tell Arrow that Coach is at the station?”
“I went to his house first,” he says. “I was looking for you.”
Bailey stops pacing and looks at me. “Oh no.”
“Arrow knows Coach turned himself in.” I’m already grabbing for my phone and punching in Arrow’s cell number. “Voicemail,” I tell Bailey when Arrow’s message clicks on.
“What did Arrow say when you told him?” Bailey asks Sebastian.
He shakes his head. “He said he had to do something and he . . .” His frown deepens. “He got his keys and got in his car and left, but he’s on house arrest.”
Bailey rushes over to me and wraps me in her arms.
“Where would he have been going?” he asks.
I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, like a child trying to wake from a bad dream. “The police station.”
Arrow
When I pull up to the police station, I’m trembling. I want to be this brave guy who isn’t scared to do what needs to be done. But even though I’m anxious to unload this weight from my shoulders, I’m terrified.
Coach is right. They’ll make an example of me. They’ll compare me to that affluenza kid, and my life will be over. My dream shattered on Deadman’s Curve.
But I’m ready to be free of this terrible secret, and the second Sebastian told me Coach had turned himself in, I knew it was time.
I don’t know what Coach is telling them. I don’t know if he’s throwing me under the bus or trying to take them blame himself—lie and say he was driving the car. But it doesn’t matter. If he’s turning himself in, it means I get to finally tell the truth without his fate weighing on my conscience.
I turn off my car and squeeze my eyes shut. I should have done this sooner. I should have insisted.
I swallow hard, pocket my keys, and climb out.
When I step into the station, the officer who arrested me for possession looks up from his desk.
“You’re supposed to be on house arrest,” he says.
Not far away, Coach stands with another officer, who’s pointing to the back hallway.
“I’m here to turn myself in,” I say.
“No, you’re not,” Coach says. “You can’t confess to a crime you didn’t commit.”
“Just because I don’t remember—”
The doors to the station burst open, and Mia and Bailey rush in.
“You weren’t driving!” Mia shouts.
Bailey nods frantically, and Trish steps through the doors and stands at my side. She’s a mess, her eyes red, her face wet with tears, her hands full of tissues.
“They’re telling the truth,” Trish says. Her voice shakes, but she stands firm.
“Don’t try to protect me,” I say.
Trish squeezes my arm. “You never drove that night, Arrow. You weren’t behind the wheel even once after you started drinking. You were passed out in the passenger seat.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around her waist. She meets the eyes of the officer standing by me. “I was the one driving.” She turns to me, her face falling. “I’m sorry I let you believe that it was your fault.”
“Trish.” I shake my head. “You didn’t—” I look to Coach, who’s avoiding my gaze. “I was in the driver’s seat. When you woke me up. When you found me in your yard . . .”
He lifts his eyes to mine, and I see the truth right there. “I moved you to the driver’s seat,” he says.
That doesn’t make any sense. If he was trying to protect me, why would he put me there? None of this makes any sense. “You were trying to protect me. Right?”
Trish squeezes my arm again, hard. “He was trying to protect me, Arrow. I was driving,