“Still mad at you over Evan Scott?” Bennett asks.
“Among other things.” He sighs, then adds, “It’s over.”
Bennett’s eyebrows rise to his hairline, and I frown. “What do you mean it’s over?”
He looks down at his phone and begins to type. “I wasn’t being cryptic, Cole. I said it’s over.”
The door behind us opens, and Becky exits. She looks at me, then Bennett before looking down at the floor. “I’m ready when you are.”
“I’m gonna head out too. Have a few things to take care of. I’ll be back,” Bennett says, slapping me on the back. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, man.” I look over at Becky and grab the keys out of my pocket. “Give me a minute with Deke.”
She takes the keys and then walks out after Bennett, knowing I was dismissing her. I turn to Deke, and he’s still typing away on his phone. “Writing a novel?” I joke.
His hands pause over the keys, and his blue eyes narrow on me.
Deke is a jokester. That’s who he is. I have a feeling now that he and Becky are over, he won’t be that way for a while. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope,” he answers in a clipped tone, then he goes back to typing.
Okay. “Will you stay here with her?” I ask. “I don’t wanna leave her alone—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He interrupts me before walking back into her room.
CHAPTER TEN
COLE
BECKY SLIPS INTO THE passenger seat, and I get into the driver’s seat. As she pulls on her seat belt, I notice her body is rigid. And it doesn’t escape me that we haven’t been in the same car together since …
“Are we just gonna sit here?” she asks, interrupting my thoughts but not bothering to look over at me.
I start the car and shift it into gear, jaw clenching. “Scars” by Boy Epic begins to filter through the speakers, and I turn it up to drown out any conversation we could possibly have.
Twenty minutes later, I pull up to the house and stop in front of the five-tier water fountain and turn off my car. The music cuts off, and silence follows. She just sits there, staring down at her hands in her lap. Becky and I avoid this kind of situation—being alone together. She wanted to deny Austin’s request, but whatever she said to her had her agreeing to it.
I take a deep breath. “You sure you wanna go in?”
She finally looks up at me, annoyance on her face. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I’m not sure how much they have cleaned up since … it happened.”
Her face falls. She hadn’t thought of that, but I did. I sure as hell don’t wanna be here, but if it makes Austin happy, then I’ll do it.
She finally nods and gets out of the car. I follow her after grabbing my hoodie out of the back seat.
Yellow crime scene tape blocks the entrance to the house, so we make our way to the back terrace, and I wrap my hoodie around my right hand.
“What are you doing?” she asks, sounding apprehensive.
I tighten my hand around the fabric and throw it into the glass of the back door, shattering it. She gasps, and I look at her over my shoulder. “How else were we gonna get in?” Austin didn’t have a key on her.
She lets out a huff and looks away from me.
I reach into the broken glass and unlock it from the inside, then shove it open. We make our way through the silent house, and sure enough, we see blood on the marble floor at the bottom of the stairs in the grand foyer. Becky covers her mouth and coughs. The stench of blood is overwhelming because it’s set here for four days now. You can make out where Kellan was straddling Austin when she stabbed him due to the pool of blood there. You can see her handprints where she pushed herself up to run from him. Then there’s another trail where he followed her into the kitchen where she called me.
“Jesus.” Becky gasps, taking a step back and pressing her back against the front door. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, and it shakes.
I take the stairs two at a time and enter Austin’s room. I’m surprised when Becky enters behind me. She slams the door shut as if that will keep the smell out. It won’t.
My breathing begins to pick up. It’s been a month since I’ve been in here. Last time was the night of prom when Deke and I came to pick her and Becky up. When her father gave her the check. Her bedspread and top sheets are wadded at the foot of her bed. A pair of shorts and her white Chucks litter her floor. Her backpack sits over by her nightstand. Her curtains are pulled closed, and I try not to think of everything that has happened in this room, from me threatening to hurt her to spending all night with her between the sheets. My chest tightens at some of the things I did to her.