Chapter 28
I whip around, searching the dark room. “Braden?”
“I knew you were a fucking liar.” He shoves me, and I stumble back, my head hitting the bookcase behind me.
I reach for the marble bookend, the one Brock threw at Maria when he accused her of stealing. I find it and grab it, nearly dropping it because it’s heavier than I thought. Holding it with both hands, I slowly walk backward, away from Braden.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, stepping toward me.
“Braden, if you touch me again, I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll what? Go tell on me to your little boyfriend?” He lets out a harsh laugh. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Novak taking another one of my leftovers? First Andrea. Then Kristen. Now you.”
“I’m not your leftover.” I lift the bookend up, ready to hit Braden with it if he tries to attack me. “Even if I wasn’t your cousin, I’d never date you.”
“We’re not related. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that?”
“We are related. We’re—” I stop before saying it. “It doesn’t matter. Just get away from me.” I take another step back. “I mean it, Braden.”
A light turns on.
“What’s going on in here?” Brock appears in his robe.
“Braden’s trying to attack me,” I say.
“You’re the one holding the fucking weapon,” Braden says, pointing to the marble bookend in my hands.
Brock comes over and takes the bookend from me, setting it on the shelf. “Would one of you tell me what’s going on?”
Braden glares at me, his arms crossed. “She’s a fucking traitor.”
“What is he talking about?” Brock asks me.
“He doesn’t approve of who I’m dating,” I say, glaring back at Braden. “Even though it’s none of his damn business.”
“Who are you dating?” Brock asks.
“Novak,” Braden answers. “She’s been fucking Novak this whole time and lying to us.”
Brock turns to me. “Is that true?”
“I met him when I was out walking one day. We got to be friends and then . . . it became more.”
“She’s been fucking spying on us,” Braden says to his dad. “That’s why she wanted to sit at my table. To get shit on the team she could go tell Novak.”
“What would I tell him?” I toss my hands up. “I don’t know anything about football. When you guys are talking about it, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t tell Novak what you heard, you little bitch.” He reaches for me, but Brock stands in his way.
“Braden! Keep your hands off her!”
“She’s working for fucking Novak!” he yells.
“I’m not working for him — I’m dating him.
I don’t care about your stupid football games.
I hate sports.” I put my hands on my hips.
“What about Kristen? She was with Jackson. They’re still friends.
And you don’t seem to have a problem with her sitting at your table, listening to all your secrets.
You even let her come to the house last night. ”
“How’d you know about that?”
“You really think she wants you back? She’s using you, Braden, just like she uses everyone else. If anyone’s a traitor, it’s Kristen, not me.”
“Okay, both of you, quiet down,” Brock says.
“Dad, she’s—”
“Quiet!” Brock yells at Braden. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I need to sleep so I’ll be rested for my read-through. I am not going to lose this role because my son couldn’t keep quiet.”
“You’re worried about some fucking role?” Braden points to me. “Football is my fucking life and she’s trying to destroy it!”
“I wasn’t trying to destroy it.”
“You’re done with Novak,” Braden yells at me. “You even talk to him I’ll—”
“You’ll do nothing!” Brock grabs Braden’s arm and yanks on it, his eyes darkening. “You stay the fuck away from Novak. You hear me? You don’t touch him. You don’t talk to him. You don’t threaten him. You stay away from him.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Braden yells, trying to yank his arm back. “You’re seriously taking Novak’s side over mine?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I will deal with this myself. All you’ll do is create more problems.” He gets in Braden’s face. “If you, or any of your friends, do anything to Novak — and I mean anything — you will be living with your mother for the rest of the year. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Braden mutters, his eyes on the floor.
Brock lets go of Braden’s arm. “You can go now.”
Braden storms off. I hear the front door swing open, then slam shut.
“I’m going to bed,” Brock says.
He leaves, and I’m alone in the living room, stunned and confused. What the hell just happened? Did Brock just stick up for me? Why is he letting me see Jackson?
I go to my room and call Jackson and tell him what happened.
“You should’ve seen Braden,” I say. “I’ve never seen him that mad.”
“Stay away from him,” Jackson says. “When he gets that way, he loses control. Stay in your room and lock your door until he’s calmed down.”
“He’s not even here. He left.”
“He’ll still be pissed tomorrow. Try to avoid him all weekend if you can.”
“What do you think this means? Brock telling Braden to leave us alone? You think he’s saying we can date?”
“Brock won’t be a problem. It’s Braden we’ll have to deal with unless Brock can keep him in line.”
“How do you know Brock won’t be a problem? Maybe he was just going easy on me tonight. He could change his mind in the morning.”
“Shit,” Jackson mutters.
“What happened?”
“My security cameras aren’t working. I was trying to see the recordings for tonight but there’s nothing there.”
“Why were you checking the cameras?”
“I thought I heard someone out back. I went to check, but didn’t see anyone. You weren’t back there, were you?”
“No. Maybe it was Braden. What time did you hear the noise?”
“Right when I got home so it couldn’t have been Braden. But now that he knows about us, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to do something. I need to try to fix this.”
“Do you know how?”
“I’ve fixed them before. Sometimes it’s just a loose wire. The wind was bad tonight. It could’ve knocked the cameras around.”
“Maybe that was the noise you heard.”
“Maybe. I need to go check. Should I call you back when I’m done?”
“I’m really tired. I’m going to try to sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“Just avoid him. Braden will calm down. He just needs a few days.”
“Can we do something tomorrow? I need to get out of here.”
“Sure. I have practice in the morning, but I can come get you after that.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.” I pause. “I love you, Burt.”
He laughs. “We don’t need the code names anymore.”
“Then I love you, Jackson.”
“I love you too, Rumor. Goodnight.”
I’m exhausted but can’t sleep. I keep thinking I hear Braden outside my door, trying to get in so he can kill me, not that he’d actually kill me. Or maybe he would. If he killed Andrea, he’s capable of killing again. And he’s really mad. Everyone keeps telling me he loses control when he’s mad.
Pulling the covers over me, I grab the TV remote and find a movie to watch — a comedy — to take my mind off the dark thoughts consuming me. A few hours later, I finally fall asleep.
* * *
In the morning, a series of knocks on my door wakes me up.
“Rumor, are you awake?”
It’s Maria. She doesn’t usually work on Saturdays.
“Just a minute!” I get out of bed and open the door. “It’s Saturday, right?”
She smiles. “I’m just here for a few hours. Brock is having some people over later and wanted to make sure the house was clean. I wanted to get your laundry. I’m putting in a load.”
I step aside, and she heads into my room, holding her laundry basket.
“Did you girls have fun last night?” she asks, tossing my laundry in the basket.
“Um, yeah,” I say, not sure what she means. Shayla must’ve told her we went out.
“Am I missing anything?” she asks, nodding at the laundry.
“No, that was it.”
“You should go have breakfast,” she says as she leaves. “Ana dropped off some pastries from your favorite bakery.”
Ana was here? This morning or last night? Brock seemed in a hurry to get back to his room last night. Maybe Ana was in there waiting for him.
It’s only eight, but I won’t get back to sleep now that I’m up. I shower, get dressed, and go to the kitchen.
“There she is,” Braden says, a smug grin on his face as he walks into the kitchen with Brock.
Brock looks at me. “Have you heard from him?”
“Who?”
“Jackson.”
“No. Why?”
Braden laughs. “Looks like your little boyfriend’s in trouble.” He smirks. “Karma’s a bitch.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Go check outside.”
I run past him out of the kitchen, down the hall to the entry. I whip open the door and run outside in my bare feet.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
Two cop cars are in Jackson’s driveway, and another one is on its way, its red lights flashing as it races down the street. And there’s an ambulance.
“Jackson!” I yell.
I take off, cutting through the neighbors’ manicured lawns, my heart pounding.
What did he do? If Braden did something to Jackson or had someone else do it, he’s going to pay. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get back at him. There’s no way he’s getting away with this.
“Jackson!” I scream as I get closer.
When I reach his house, my lungs are burning from running so fast.
A cop appears. “Miss, you need to stay back.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
The ambulance doors open, and I watch as two men walk up the hill from the back. They’re holding a stretcher. With a body on it. Covered with a white sheet.
“No!” I scream, lunging forward.
The cop catches me and pushes me back. “Miss, you can’t be here. This is a crime scene.”
“No! He can’t be!” I struggle to breathe, tears falling down my face. “Jackson!”
Another officer goes up to one of the ambulance guys. “Anything?”
The guy shakes his head. “No. She’s gone.”
She?
“What does he mean?” I say to the officer in front of me. “What happened?”
“Miss, I’m not going to tell you again. You need to leave. This is an official crime scene. We’ll be taping off the area. You can’t be here.”
I look back and see neighbors coming out of their houses, some still in their bathrobes. I take a step back as an officer runs yellow crime tape along the edge of Jackson’s property.
What the hell is going on? And why haven’t I heard anything from Jackson?
I get out my phone and see that he called, but it was hours ago. I didn’t hear my phone going off. I didn’t even check it this morning because Maria distracted me.
Jackson didn’t leave a voicemail, but he sent some texts.
The first one reads, Call me!
It’s followed by, Where are you? Call me!
The last one makes me drop to my knees.
Kristen is dead.
I’m shaking, my chest tightening, making it hard to breathe.
Kristen’s dead?
Is that who was on the stretcher? Was it Kristen’s body?
As the ambulance leaves, I slowly stand up, watching as the officer continues to tape off the area.
My eyes jump to the front door as it swings open. An officer comes out, holding onto someone. It’s Jackson.
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
Jackson is handcuffed, an officer on each side of him, holding his arms as he walks.
What the hell? They think Jackson killed Kristen? Why was she at his house? He told her she couldn’t come back, so why was she there?
“Jackson!” I scream.
He looks over at me, sadness coming over his face. He does a quick shake of his head like he’s signaling me to keep quiet. Our eyes meet for just a second before he glances away. The cop opens the door of the squad car, and Jackson gets in.
“Did you call the mother?” I hear one of the officers say.
“Ms. Reynolds is in LA,” the other officer replies. “Haven’t been able to reach her.”
“Ms. Reynolds,” the first officer says. “Daphne Reynolds? The socialite?”
The other guy nods. “That’s her. Damn shame about her daughter. She was a beautiful girl.”
They get in the car and drive off, taking Jackson away.
Jackson is gone. Kristen is dead.
But who killed her?
THE END