You Know I Love You (You Are Mine #3) - Willow Winters Page 0,66
him or Samantha would tell the cops what happened, all the guilt and denial rise up in my chest and cause the next words come out without my consent. “Tell them what happened.”
Just the thought of the truth getting out lifts a weight off of me.
“Tell them I gave him the coke. Tell them I set him up to get high and came back to him dead. Tell the press. Tell everyone,” I say and my heart beats faster and faster as my hands ball into white-knuckled fists. I realize what I’ve just done. I realize I’ve said it out loud. But I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything. None of it matters anymore.
“It’s murder, Evan, and you know it,” James says as I face the door to leave. Not bothering to acknowledge him in the least.
Yes, it’s murder. And it’s not the first time something’s happened under my watch. But it’s the last. I’m done with this shit and this life.
I didn’t lace a damn thing. If that stash was messed with, it wasn’t me and I’m not going down for a crime I didn’t commit. I’ll own up to everything else.
I want to pay for my sins and chase what truly matters to me.
A love I took for granted. A love I don’t know if I can salvage.
Kat
Pulled in every direction,
Too dizzy to stay still.
My feet stumble beneath me,
My body frozen from the chill.
No more of being numb and weak,
No more of waiting, left in vain.
I’ve had enough of lies,
I’ve had enough of pain.
The buzz from the townhouse speaker rouses me from my seat in the dining room. Buzz. Buzz. It’s an annoying high-pitched sound that I can’t stand.
My head’s already throbbing. It’s been like this for hours, ever since I got home and took the test. I can’t go back and look at it. It’s hard enough to wrap my head around everything that’s happening.
And the guilt …
As I walk to the front of the townhouse, hustling down the stairs so I don’t have to hear that damn noise again, I realize it’s nearly nine and I’m still in my pajamas. At least I have pants on, but the matching light gray cotton shirt has a large spot of coffee on the front and I’m sure my hair’s a mess.
“Who is it?” I ask in a voice that sounds more together than I feel as I push the button down and then release it. The only person I can think of is Henry, Evan’s father.
“Sorry to bother you, I was just hoping for a quick meeting,” a voice says on the other side and it takes me a moment to recognize it.
“Jacob?” I say into the intercom.
“I hope you don’t mind. I was in the area and wanted to stop by,” he replies and his voice breaks up over the speaker.
I know it’s rude to make him wait, it’s unkind not to answer him immediately, but this is so unexpected. I don’t know how to react or respond.
“I’m not quite dressed for company,” I tell him and then close my eyes from embarrassment. He still hasn’t signed with the agency and I haven’t spoken to him since running into him on the street.
“That’s all right with me,” he answers easily and I lean into the button, keeping it held down as my head throbs again and my eyes close with frustration.
“Is it all right if I come up?”
“Of course,” I answer out of instinct. “Come on up,” I tell him and then hit the buzzer to let him up. My heart races as I consider why he’s here. I know why, deep down. It’s my fault. I led him on.
A sarcastic laugh leaves me as I throw my head back and wipe my tired eyes with my hands. How self-centered and presumptuous I am to think he’s here for anything other than business. I ignore the guilt and the worry that riddle my body and glance in the large oval mirror in the foyer as I wait for Jacob to make his way up the stairs.
There are bags under my eyes and a smattering of eyeliner from yesterday still remaining. I wipe carefully under them and pull my hair back, but I still don’t look professional. My simple black leggings and a baggy shirt are made somewhat better by slipping on a crocheted sweater. It’s better than nothing, laid back at the very best. I find it hard to care that much about my appearance as I