Chapter 11
ELEVEN
You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Ben Wright.
I can't stop replaying the words in my head. How could this possibly be happening to me? I didn't touch him. Lord knows I wanted to more than anything, but I didn't. The last time I saw him, he was standing upright, though struggling thanks to the booze, and glaring at me through the rearview mirror of my car.
If I'd known I would be getting arrested for his attempted murder, then I at least would have actually tried.
The security doors to the holding cells open, and the same police officer who brought me in comes to unlock the cage. It takes everything in me not to smirk at him and make some snide comment about arresting the wrong person, but I know better than to poke the bear.
“What's going on?” I asked the cop, looking around for any indication of Merrit or Sawyer coming to pick me up.
“Your lawyer’s here,” he says, opening the cell and gesturing for me to get a move on.
He guides me to an interrogation room where Paul Umber is sitting in a hastily thrown together suit. I have no idea what time it is, but I imagine it's far too early even for a suit like him. He's been representing my family for decades, and for once, I'm thankful for my father's connections.
“What the hell is going on? They've hardly told me anything, and I've had nothing to do with what happened to Ben Wright,” I quickly say as I sit opposite him.
“Where were you between 11:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m.?” Paul asks me, taking notes in his leather-bound notebook.
“We just won the game against Hatfield, and I had a party at my house. Dozens of other people from school were there. They can all vouch for me,” I say, confident in my answer.
“You got into a confrontation with Mr. Wright after the game, right?”
“Yeah, but that's because he was verbally attacking his daughter, and I stood up for her. I didn't lay a hand on him,” I say, feeling the desperation in my voice. Being accused of something you didn't do is one of the worst feelings in the world, and I'll do anything to prove my innocence. I just know Ben is doing this to get back at Merrit for leaving.
“If what you're saying is true, then there's no way these charges are going to stick,” Paul says, huffing at the paperwork laid out in front of him. “Mr. Wright was beaten pretty badly, and he's in the hospital right now. Police and medical staff have tried to interview him, and all he's been able to say is your name.”
Of course he would do something like that. The man's a drunk. He probably got on the wrong side of the wrong people, and they jumped him, and he'll take any opportunity to blame me for it just to make Merrit’s life miserable. I'm not surprised in the slightest.
“Let me talk to the sheriff and see what I can do,” Paul says before exiting the room and leaving me alone. About twenty minutes pass before he comes in with another officer, and they unlock the handcuffs around my wrists.
The officer leaves the room, and Paul flashes me a small smile. “Your parents will have to start paying me overtime if you're going to get into trouble like this.”
“Trust me, I had nothing to do with this, and I have no intention of coming back here,” I say, eager to follow him out of the interrogation room.
In the lobby of the police station, I can see the sun is already rising. I had no idea that much time had passed since I was arrested. Sawyer is sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair reading over a newspaper when I walk in.
“Where is she?” I ask, looking around for Merrit. After spending several hours in a holding cell, hers is the only face I want to see right now.
Sawyer stands and looks at me hesitantly, clearly holding something back. “I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to me. She went to the hospital to talk to her dad about this.”
“Fuck me, we have to go after her,” I say, immediately rushing out of the building to get to Sawyer's car. If Ben was willing to lie about me attempting to kill him to get back at her, what will he do if he actually sees her?
Thankfully, the traffic on a Saturday morning at 6:00 a.m. isn't anything to contend with, and we make it to Pembroke’s only emergency room in minutes. Both of us rush inside and stop by the admittance desk to find out where Ben's room is, and they force both of us to take out visitor passes to see him.
We walk through the hospital to find his room as quickly as we can. It isn't until I realize we’re in the intensive care unit that the reality of the situation sets in. Whatever actually happened to him must have been bad, and I might not need to worry about him retaliating against Merrit.
Eventually, we find him in his room with Merrit sitting on a stool beside him, watching with a strange mixture of emotions on her face.
She doesn't look up when we walk in the room. Sawyer decides to give us some space, so he runs to the vending machines.
“Hey, what's going on?” I ask as I kneel on the floor beside her. She looks at me and offers a faint smile.
“I've always known something like this was bound to happen,” she says in a meek voice. Her throat is dry and her voice shaky as she looks at her badly beaten father. Bruises cover nearly every inch of his face and arms, and it seems the only way he's even breathing is through the help of an oxygen mask.
It's hard to look at him and not think that he deserves this. I've seen the bruises he's left on his daughter's body, and this is a small price he's had to pay for those.
“I'm so sorry, Merrit,” I whisper, grabbing her hand and holding it tight. “You shouldn't have to deal with this right now. But we'll figure out what really happened.”
Two light knocks on the door catch our attention, and we both look to see two police officers standing in the doorway with cups of steaming coffee in their hands. “Are you the next of kin?”
“I am,” Merrit says. She stands and looks at them with desperation in her eyes. I can't imagine what she's feeling right now, and my heart aches for her. Her father is a monster who made her life a living hell, but he is still her dad.
“We've arrested the men responsible for the attack,” one officer says, his voice soft and quiet as he breaks the news. “He was down at the pub, and the bartender said he was looking for a fight. He picked it with the wrong people, and they followed him out. You don't have to worry. They're in custody now.”
They give a few more details about the fight, telling us the different timelines and a few eyewitness accounts of what happened, but all I can focus on is Merrit and how she seems to be tuning all of it out. The cops eventually leave us alone in the room, and I wrap my arms around her to comfort her.
“He did this on purpose,” she says through a shaky breath. She looks up at me with watery eyes and shakes her head in disbelief. “I'm sure of it. That's why he said it was you who beat him up. He goes to the bars enough to know who he shouldn't mess with. He picked a fight with the wrong people on purpose. He did all of that, and now the doctors are saying he might not ever wake up.”
She loses her composure toward the end, and tears stream down her face. I can't tell if she's sad that her father might be gone forever or if she feels guilty because she thinks she's partially to blame.
“I'm done,” she croaks out after she composes herself. I raise my eyebrows at her, not fully understanding what she means. “I can't do this anymore. If he's here for the rest of his life, then so be it. I don't want to be here when he wakes up, and I don't want to talk to him again. I'm done with him for good.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her toward the door, looking back at Ben Wright in the hospital bed one last time. “I'm proud of you,” I say, kissing the top of her head.
We walk out of the hospital room together and drive to our home—the place she will always be wanted and welcome by people who choose her just like she deserves.