And I’m loving every fucking minute of it.
“Maybe.” She answers between bites.
I chuckle, unwrapping my own burger. “What kind of trouble are you looking to get into, baby girl?”
She grins up at my, green eyes meeting mine through thick black lashes. “The worst kind,” she tells me.
Fuck, I think I might just love this girl.
Mik’s face is ashen, she looks pale and terrified.
I knew the idea of looking like a loving partner would be hard for her, but the look on her face is tragic. Her eyes are glassy, their normal green shade is something darker, filled with pain.
Guilt is clawing its way through me, and I want to stop what I’m doing and hold her, comfort her. But I also need to protect her, and this will do just that. I have to remind myself what the goal here is. I can’t do anything for her if I’m behind bars.
I slip my mask back on and steel my spine, readying myself for whatever comes next. David spent weeks preparing me for this deposition. My story is solid, my lies are impenetrable.
He gives me a look, a silent question asking if I’m ready.
I am.
I press a chaste kiss to Mik’s forehead. “Trust me,” I whisper the reminder. I know deep down, she trusts me. Deep down inside her, in that pit of memories she’s refusing to relive she trusts me. She just needs to remember how she feels about me, remember that she loves me.
My arm snakes around her waist as the elevator dings, alerting us that we’ve arrived. “You can’t come in with me.” I tell her. “But I had Beckett meet us here, he’ll sit with you.”
Beckett is there when we exit the elevator, waiting for us. I trust him with my life and there are only a few people who fall into that category. He smiles when he sees us, tossing Mik a reassuring grin. I think she’s the most comfortable with him out of all my friends, and I know waiting outside while I recount the moments of her sister's death just out of her reach is going to hurt, so she might as well be comfortable.
I leave her in the waiting room with Beckett while David leads me into the office where the deposition will take place. The district attorney is already there, a man who’s vying for me to take this to trial. I think he gets his rocks off on sentencing bad guys to life sentences, he’s probably secretly wishing for the death penalty.
He’s not alone.
I’ve tried to avoid everything since the video came out and all of the accusations followed. Every platform is loaded with details of the charges and pictures of me with metal handcuffs slapped across my wrists.
Anyone who hears the story is ready to sentence me to death, hell they would lock me up if they could. The comments are a shitshow of name calling and lies. Everyone thinks they know the story, but there were only three people there that night.
One is dead.
One has no memories.
And the weight of the truth rests on me.
I rub a hand over my jaw and try to relax my shoulders, preventing myself from getting worked up. No one knows what happened that night.
Still, I’m anxious, nervous that this whole façade is going to crumble around me.
The conference room we meet in is large, way more space than is needed for the few people here. David directs me to a seat on one side of the table, next to him. The court reporter sits at the head of the table with her keyboard and David’s associates pile in behind me. I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs before I exhale slowly.
The DA is on the other side of the table with his associate who is working on setting up the camera that will record my words for perpetuity.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I breath deeply and clasp my hands together, letting them rest on the table in front of me as I watch them ready themselves. DA Miller removes a stack of papers from a thin manila folder and shuffles through them, the actions ruffling the anxiety sitting in my gut.
He lifts his bearded face, locking his gaze with mine and giving me a brief smile. “So, Mr. Bancroft…” He trails off. He’s trying to make me uneasy, draw this out and make me slip. David spent a whole day lecturing me on the tricks that the DA will use to catch me in a lie.
“Where were you on the night of October 31st, 2019?” he asks, his eyes flickering back to mine and holding my gaze.