Chapter 25 #2
“Do you think you need a lawyer?” Thatcher tilts his head.
Fuck, I swear I’m getting an ulcer.
“Look, man, did I hit Ezra? Yes. Should I have hit him so hard? No, but he fucking deserved it.”
I clench my jaw in case I decide to spill more state secrets than I already have.
“Because of how he treated Haven.” Thatcher nods a few times. “So you didn’t mean to hurt him? Events just spiraled?”
“Yeah. I mean…I guess.”
He points the blunt end of the pencil at me. “Witnesses claim you left the party soon after the alleged assault. Where did you go?”
To my fucking teacher’s house, and Jesus, don’t I bet you want to know alll about that ‘shit.’
I roll my lips together, forcing the intrusive thought from my head before I spew into the basin.
“You want some coffee, man?” I slip off the stool before he can answer. “We got this new coffee machine start of the semester. This shit’s like god-tier.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jordan, but I’d rather just finish up here so I can get back to the station and fill out my report, if it’s all the same to you.”
So fucking polite, it’s setting my teeth on edge.
I don’t fucking want coffee. I just want to get the taste of Rooke out of my mouth before I puke since I can’t do fuck-all about the feel of his hands in my hair or the way my lips are still tingling.
Ripping open the fridge, I root around inside until I find a Red Bull.
“From the statements I’ve taken so far, it’s reported you didn’t follow your brother to the hospital. Any specific reason?”
I crack open the can and drain like half of it before replying. “Went to check on Haven.”
“The girl whose name you’d forgotten?”
My jaw clenches. “That’s the one.”
“The one your brother has been bullying?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Was she?”
I blink at him. “Was she what?”
“Was she okay?”
Jesus, okay?
I barely stop myself bursting out laughing.
Neither of us were fucking near okay last night.
“Yeah. I guess. Traumatized. But, like, she’ll survive.” I hide my smirk behind another sip of Red Bull. “She’s not a wuss.”
“Did she seek any kind of medical attention?”
“What? No. Why would she?”
“You said…” Thatcher looks back at his notes. “Ezra put a collar around her neck and forced her to eat dog food.” He looks up again, so innocent, I don’t even know what to make of the question.
This guy’s playing me, isn’t he? He didn’t make any fucking notes about that shit when I told him. What the hell does he even write in that little fucking book? Or is he just doodling flowers?
“She didn’t sustain any injuries from this?” Thatcher asks.
“No, man. She’s fine. But Ezra’s a fucking dick, and if I hadn’t stopped him, he’d probably have done worse.”
I can’t tell if the cop agrees. He’s got the same politely curious look on his face as always.
“So after the altercation with Ezra, you follow the girl you were defending to make sure she’s okay, rather than heading to the hospital to check on your own brother?”
Jesus, he makes me sound like a fucking sociopath. I turn my back, hoping he can’t see how my hand shakes as I drain the last of the sickly sweet Red Bull and toss the can in the kitchen sink from where I’m standing.
I burp, and I swear to God I can taste Rooke again.
“Got what you need?” I blurt out, not even bothering to tone down the annoyance in my voice. “I’ve got to study for tests and shit.”
“After visiting hours, I assume.”
“Visiting…?” I trail off when I catch Thatcher’s look as I glance over my shoulder. “Yeah, after, of course. Gotta go see how he’s doing.”
My voice has never sounded so hollow. My words so fake.
Thatcher looks back at his notes and nods. “Just one more thing.”
“What?” I try not to sound like a whiny little bitch, but either I’m going to throw up or have a nervous breakdown in the next two seconds, and I don’t need witnesses.
“Is this the first time the two of you have come to blows?”
“Come to blows?” I parrot, scrunching up my face. Can this guy please make up his fucking mind if he’s thirty or fifty?
“Ezra has a substantial file at Agony Memorial. Everything from broken bones to cracked ribs. Was that you?”
My heart stutters.
Thatcher keeps staring at me with that implacably direct gaze that makes me feel like an insect pinned on a board.
“No, uh…he…he plays a lot of sports.” My voice sounds wooden even to my own ears. Fuck knows how Thatcher buys it. Maybe he doesn’t.
Jesus. My knees feel all spongy, like they’re about to buckle in. I try to hide it by leaning my hip against the counter.
“Of course, yes. Sports.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Never really played any myself.”
“Yeah. Lots of sports.” Jesus, why’s it so fucking hot in here?
I hike up the sleeves of Rooke’s hoodie, immediately regret it when Haven’s bite mark is on full display, and tug the sleeve down again.
Damn. She bit me almost two weeks ago, but it’s still red and irritated. I should’ve gotten a tetanus shot.
Will it scar?
I kinda want it to.
…you fucked up my head. I could never stop thinking about you…
Thatcher writes something in his notebook, and I seriously hope it’s got nothing to do with what’s obviously a defensive wound.
“Sports such as…?” he asks, like he’s pretending he never saw nothing. Hopefully, he thinks these are Ezra’s teeth marks, not What’s-Her-Face Haven’s.
“Football. Hockey. Wrestling.” I run out of contact sports to list and roll my lips together so I’ll stop blabbing.
“Yup. That ought to do it,” he chuckles. His eyes dart up so quick, he catches me peering at him like I don’t know what the fuck I just stepped in. “That where you get your injuries, or did Ezra get a few shots in last night, too?”
I just stare. Because what the fuck?
Thatcher touches the side of his neck, then makes a choking motion. “Looks like someone got you good there.”
…keep swallowing like that, boy, and I’ll have no choice but to feed you my cock…
“Sports,” I croak out. “Contact…sports.”
“Damn dangerous if you ask me,” Thatcher mutters as he snaps his notebook closed. “Any idea where I could reach this Haven friend?”
All I can manage is a shake of my head.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your studying. Thank you for your time, Mr. Jordan.”
“’Kay.” I want nothing more than to race upstairs, but I’m grounded to the spot.
Thatcher nods, glances down, adjusts the shiny badge that doesn’t need any adjusting, and then smiles up at me. “Must say, it’s a beautiful town.”
“What?”
“Agony Hollow.” Another smile, this one tinged with sentiment. “Reminds me of Cinderhart, but in all the good ways, you know?”
“That your old place?”
There’s a faint smile on Thatcher’s lips, but he doesn’t answer me, instead scanning the kitchen like he’s wondering if there’s another earth-shattering question he forgot to ask.
“Pie Palace, you said?” He nods again. “Think I’ll try them on my way back to the station.”