Chapter 12
Every part of me wants to run down to Jackson’s and stop them from taking him away. But I can’t.
Trystan parks, and we go inside the house. Braden and Brock are in the living room, talking.
“Did you see Novak’s house?” Trystan says, laughing, even though it’s not the least bit funny.
Braden gets up. “Why? What happened?”
“Two cop cars are in his driveway.” He smiles. “Guess they got their killer.”
“You don’t know if he’s being arrested,” Braden says.
“They could just be there to interview him,” Brock says. He turns to Braden. “Keep your distance from him. You don’t want to give him anything he could use against you.”
“Like what?” Braden glances at me. “I didn’t do anything.”
Why was he looking at me when he said that? Does he think I assume he’s guilty?
Brock gets up from the couch. “It doesn’t matter. You are not to talk to him.”
“I already did,” Braden mutters.
Brock races up to him. “You what?”
Braden looks up at his dad. “I panicked. The investigator called and said he wanted to talk to me, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“So you asked Novak?” Brock yells, his face getting red. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. I was out all night. I hadn’t slept. My knee was fucking killing me. And you wouldn’t answer your damn phone!”
He grips Braden’s shoulders. “What did you say to him? Word for word. I need to know.”
“I just told him I got a call from the investigator and told him he’d probably be getting one too. Then I asked him what I should do. “
“Why would you ask him of all people?”
“Because he knows shit. He knows what to do. He doesn’t have parents taking over and dealing with it. He deals with it himself.”
“And? What did he say?”
“He told me to call you and if I couldn’t reach you to call the lawyer I worked with before.”
Brock lets go of Braden. “That’s it? That’s all that was said?”
“Yeah. Then I left.”
“I’ll be in my office.” Brock storms off.
Trystan plops down on the couch. “What’d the lawyer say?”
“Not much,” Braden says. “He said we need to wait and see what the evidence is and go from there. The cops haven’t charged me with anything so there’s not really anything to do but wait.”
“The whole thing might be over if Jackson’s being arrested.”
I need to find out if that’s really happening.
“I’m going to my room,” I say, hurrying off.
After shutting the door and locking it, I text Jackson.
What’s going on? Are you okay?
Minutes slowly tick by as I wait for a response.
My phone finally dings.
Lawyers set the alarm off. Cops arrived before I could shut it off.
I breathe a sigh of relief and text back.
I thought they were arresting you.
Need to go. Meeting with the lawyers.
Why is this happening? If the cops already ruled Andrea’s death an accident, why are they looking into it again? What evidence would be strong enough for them to reopen the case?
Brock’s voice booms from the other room. “Were either of you in my office? Answer me! Now!”
Shit. Trystan’s going to tell him I was in there.
I swing open my door and walk out to the living room. “What’s with all the yelling? I’m trying to study.”
“Were you in my office?” Brock asks.
I glance at Trystan. “No. Why?”
“Something isn’t right with my desk. The top drawer has been damaged somehow.”
“Wasn’t me,” Braden says.
Trystan’s eyes go to mine. “Me either.”
“I’ve been in my room,” I say.
I wait for Trystan to tell on me. He opens his mouth like he’s about to, but then doesn’t.
“I’ve had it with her!” Brock yells, breathing through his nose like he does when he’s angry. “Maria is fired. I’ve told her a million times not to go in my office, and she not only goes in there, she breaks my desk.”
“She didn’t do it,” I blurt out.
“Then who did?” His brows draw together. “Was it you? Were you lying just now?”
“No. I’m just saying Maria would never do that. She needs this job. She’d never do something to risk losing it.”
“How would you know?” Braden asks. “You just met her.”
“I know she wouldn’t do something like that.” I look at Brock. “Maybe it broke when you tried to open it. I’ve had that happen with drawers before.”
“You’re saying I did this?”
I shrug. “I’m saying things break. It could have nothing to do with you. It might have just been a faulty drawer.”
“Was anything missing?” Braden asks.
“Yes, actually.” Brock’s eyes dart to me. “A business card.”
“That’s it?” Braden says. “Big deal. All that shit’s on the web anyway.”
“Exactly, which makes me wonder why someone would take it.” He’s still looking at me. “Any theories, Rumor?”
“Why are you asking me? I don’t know why someone would take it. I don’t think they did. I’m guessing it fell on the floor or got tossed in the trash.”
“Yes.” He smirks. “You’re probably right.”
He thinks I did it. That smirk and the intense look he’s giving me tell me he knows. So what’s he going to do about it?
“Braden, come with me,” Brock says. “We have some things to discuss.”
Braden sighs. “Again? What’s left to talk about?”
“Stop arguing and come down to my office.”
When they’re gone, I go up to Trystan. “Thanks for not saying anything.”
“You owe me.” He smiles. “Or maybe I’ll let it go. I’m still loving what you did to Kristen. The whole team was talking about it last night. You’re going to have more guys asking you out now.”
“More? I haven’t had any ask me out.”
“Seriously? I would’ve thought by now half of Braden’s teammates would’ve asked you.”
“Nope. Well, Dante kind of did but I turned him down. Nobody else has asked me.”
“Braden probably told them to stay away.”
“Why? He doesn’t want me dating his teammates?”
“Yeah.” He laughs.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Nothing.” He kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m bored. You want to do something?”
“I need to study.”
“No you don’t. Let’s go out.”
“I’m serious. I need to study. I have more homework assigned for this weekend than I had in an entire month at my old school.”
He gets up. “Your loss. When you see my dad, tell him I left.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t know yet. I just know I don’t want to sit around here all day.”
I return to my room and get out my laptop.
The last thing I want to do right now is study, but if I don’t, there’s no way I’ll get it all done before Monday.
I doubt I’ll even finish. I’ve never had this much homework in my life.
I don’t know how they expect you to be involved in stuff and have a social life with this much homework.
An hour later, I haven’t read a single page or started the paper that’s due next week. I’m too worried about what might happen to Jackson. And I can’t stop thinking about my dad. I looked up the rehab place and found it’s somewhere near Palm Springs.
It had to have been my dad who called, but where was he? Did he ditch rehab and call me from somewhere in the desert where the cell reception was so bad I couldn’t hear him?
Picking up my phone, I search for the number he called from. I call it, but nobody picks up.
Holding the business card I found in Brock’s office, I call the number for the rehab place, my heart pounding.
I feel like I shouldn’t be doing this. Like Brock’s going to find out and do something to me.
I’m feeling less safe around Brock, knowing he hit Braden.
If he hit his own son, what would he do to me?
The phone rings a few times, then a woman answers. “Salvatine Recovery. How can I help you?”
“I’m trying to reach my dad. I know you don’t allow phone calls but it’s an emergency and I really need to talk to him.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“My mom died. It was sudden.” I sniffle and fake a cry. “And I really need to talk to my dad.”
The phone is quiet, then I hear her sigh. “What’s his name?”
“Devon Halliway.”
She pauses, then says, “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but he left a few weeks ago.”
“Left for another rehab place?” I ask, knowing he’s done that before. He’ll go to a place for thirty days, it doesn’t work, and he’ll transfer to another.
“As far as I know, he went home. As his daughter you should already know this,” she says in a suspicious tone. “I don’t believe you told me your name.”
I press end on my phone and toss it on the bed.
He’s not there anymore. He left weeks ago. I moved here weeks ago. Why didn’t he let me stay with him? Why is he making me stay with Brock? Is it because he doesn’t want me? Or can’t afford to take care of me? Or maybe he’s using again and doesn’t want me to know.
Whatever the reason, he could’ve at least told me he was back home. But if he’s home, why isn’t his phone working? He lives in LA. He wouldn’t have issues getting a signal there, which means he’s somewhere else. But where?
My phone dings with a text from Jackson.
Need to see you.
I can’t, I text back.
They’re all here. They’ll know if I leave.
Make up an excuse. Meet me at the end of the street. I’ll pick you up.
Now? Where are you?
Home. We need to talk. We’ll go somewhere where people won’t see us.
I chew on my lip, pacing my room as I try to think of a lie to tell Brock that’ll get me out of the house without him suspecting something.
My phone rings, and I race to my bed to pick it up. “Yeah?” I say, assuming it’s Jackson.
“Hey, it’s Shayla,” she says in a cheery tone. “Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been busy with school and helping my mom.”
“That’s okay, I’ve been busy too.” I grab my keys from my drawer and my sneakers from the closet.
“How was your first week at Twisted Pine?” Shayla asks.
“Not great. I punched the principal’s daughter.”
She gasps. “Oh my God, you mean Kristen? Kristen Reynolds?”
“You know her?”
“Everyone does. Her mom is like the richest person in town. She donates a lot of money to get her name on stuff so yeah, everyone knows her. I can’t believe you punched Kristen! What happened?”
“Long story. And long week. I was tired and cranky and not in the mood for her shit.”
Shayla laughs. “You’re like a hero now. Do you know how many people would love to punch Kristen? She’s so freaking spoiled. She gets whatever she wants and she’s still not happy.”
“That was part of the reason I punched her.”
“Why? What’d she want?”
“Nothing important,” I say, remembering I can’t tell Shayla I’m with Jackson. She’ll tell me to let him go, and I can’t. He’s the only person here I feel I can really talk to, and who understands. “I was just fed up with her. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m trying to forget it.”
“So what are you doing? You want to hang out?”
“I can’t right now. Something happened. Something I can’t talk about.”
“Does it have to do with Andrea?”
Just hearing that girl’s name sends a chill down me.
It didn’t before, when I thought it was an accident, but finding out she might’ve been murdered freaks me out.
Would Braden really do that? Or would Trystan?
I know Jackson wouldn’t. Even though I haven’t known him long, I can’t imagine him hurting someone.
“Rumor? Did you hear me?”
“Yeah. I can’t really confirm that. I’m not supposed to say anything.”
“My mom used to date a guy who worked at the police station. They’re still friends and he mentioned something about the case being reopened.”
“Your mom used to date him? I thought she was married.”
“My parents divorced a few years ago. My dad lives in an apartment in San Diego with his girlfriend. I don’t see him much now that I’m older.”
When she mentioned her dad, my mind immediately went to mine, and the comment she made about him when I first met her.
“Speaking of dads,” I say. “I called the rehab place where I thought my dad was, but they said he left a few weeks ago.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No, but I think he might’ve tried to call. The reception was really bad, but he said my name, so it had to have been him. You said you saw him in town, right?”
“Um, I don’t know,” she says with a hesitation that makes me think she’s lying. “A lot of guys look like him. It could’ve been someone else.”
“Where did you see him?”
“On the beach. He seemed kind of drunk.”
“That doesn’t surprise me, but why would he be here and not in LA?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, it probably wasn’t even him. I didn’t get a close look at him. He was yelling something really loud and stumbling around. I grabbed my stuff and left.”
“What was he yelling?”
“I couldn’t understand him. It was the kind of yelling drunk people do where they slur their words and get quiet and then get really loud and then quiet again.”
“So he was drunk.”
“Maybe.”
“You can tell me. It’s not like I’m surprised. My dad’s a drunk. He’s known more for that than for his acting.”
“Then yeah, he was drunk.”
“How sure are you that it was him?”
“At first I would’ve said a hundred percent, but now, thinking back, I’d say maybe fifty. I’d just seen Brock at the gas station, so when I saw this guy on the beach, my mind went straight to Devon. It probably wasn’t even him.”
A text pops up from Jackson.
I’m leaving now. I’ll wait on the corner. Let me know if you’re coming.
“Shayla, I need to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Yeah, maybe we could do something tomorrow.”
“Maybe. Bye.”
I don’t know how to tell her my uncle and cousins have banned me from being her friend. It’s such a stupid rule I can’t even make myself say it. And I don’t plan to follow it. If I can date Jackson behind their backs, I can hide my friendship with Shayla, too.