Prologue
Sullivan
I spend all night letting yesterday’s events run through my mind. Fuck, how could I have been so stupid? The moment I saw the red smudges on the insides of her thighs, my heart fell into my stomach, and I knew she wasn’t lying. I still don’t understand how I didn’t see it before. How could I have been so blind? What we had was real and I used her. I broke her.
I could see it in her beautiful blue eyes, the moment her heart cracked and shattered into a million pieces. The light inside them dimmed and all because of me. Fuck, my gut hurts just thinking about it. I wish I could forget, but I won’t.
We could have been happy, but it doesn’t matter now, it’s too late. Nothing I say will undo what’s already been done. The only thing left to do now is figure out why our parents would have told us these lies about Harlow.
After hiding out in my room for most of the day, I walk downstairs to get something to eat, hoping Oliver and Banks are gone. I don’t know if I can handle more of their hate right now. We agreed on not going through with our plan and I did it anyway. They believed her and I didn’t. They were right and I was wrong, so terribly wrong. I let everyone down, because I believed lies, so many fucking lies.
When I walk into the kitchen, I almost turn around. They are both there, sitting at the kitchen table, talking about getting a new car.
They stop talking when I enter. I’m immediately met with hardened glares. I open the fridge to grab some sandwich meat and a pack of cheese. Turning around, I find both Oliver and Banks looking down at their phones, apparently, they’re ignoring me now. I have half a mind to start telling them I’m sorry again, but I don’t, it won’t do me any good anyway.
Instead, I continue putting my sandwich together as quickly as I can to escape the suffocating tension in the room. I need to get back to my room so I can wallow in my own misery. With my sandwich made I start to put everything back into the fridge, the buzzing of my cell in my pocket interrupting me.
I fish it out, hoping the entire time that maybe, just maybe, it’s Harlow. My clammy hands nearly have me dropping it as I swipe the screen to unlock it, disappointment striking me through the heart like an arrow.
Tension coils in my gut. It’s just Marc, one of the guys from school.
I’m about to shove the device back in my pocket without looking at the message when Oliver turns to me, his face a mask of horror, “Oh, my God, did you get Marc’s message?” The tone of Oliver’s voice tells me instantly that whatever Marc sent him is serious, so I do the only thing I can. I open the message.
Inside the message is a link, which I click on, which leads me to a newspaper article from the Bayshore newspaper. First, I’m confused, but then I start to read the headline and my heart sinks into my stomach.
Bayshore student left in critical condition after hit and run.
I don’t know why, or how, but I know without a doubt the student they’re talking about is Harlow. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you will, but I know. Still I continue reading, my eyes unable to move fast enough.
A young woman, who reportedly is attending Bayshore University, was struck by a car downtown, near the art gallery, witnesses say. The car then fled the scene and the woman was rushed to the hospital. The incident is still under investigation…
Unable to read another word, I turn off my phone and place it down on the marble counter, before sagging against it.
I did this… this is all my fault.
“It’s her, I know it’s her,” I say, more to myself than to my brothers. When I look up, Oliver is staring at me, there’s a feral look in his eyes, one that I’ve never seen directed at me before and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate myself in that moment.
“If she dies, then you might as well be dead too.” The anger and hurt in his voice chills me to the bone.
“You know I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”
Oliver shakes his head, before getting up, the sound of his chair scraping across the floor. Banks doesn’t even look at me, obviously, disgusted beyond belief. Oliver walks over stopping on the other side of the island. His hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides and I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to slug me right now.
It’s not like I don’t deserve it.