“Okay.” I nod, tightening my arms across my chest. “Then tell me this. The night Royal disappeared, who took him?”
Preston narrows his eyes. “I told you that.”
“Give me some credit, too,” I say. “I’m not a dumb bitch, Preston. You said you know every car at Willow Heights, and yet, you described that car as a shitty pickup.”
“Those kids didn’t go to Willow Heights.”
“Uh huh,” I say. “But I bet you know what kind of truck it was. I bet, if they go to Faulkner, you know exactly who they are.”
Preston curses under his breath, giving me a dark look. “So what if I do? If I can figure it out, so can the cops, if they want to. So could you.”
“How?” I ask. “Go around looking for every shitty pickup in this redneck town, and then go knocking on the door asking if they ambushed my brother? You saw it. You could recognize it.”
Preston lays a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and his eyes hard as they bore into mine. “It doesn’t matter who they are,” he says. “And trust me, you don’t want the cops to find them, either. Because if they do, they’ll question them, and you won’t like the answers they give.”
I swallow hard, a funny flutter catching in my throat. “What does that mean?”
“It means they’re just a bunch of punks who have no money and no better options for earning it,” he says. “They’re not the players in this game. They’re the pawn you sacrifice on your first move.”
“Stop talking metaphors and tell me straight.”
“Learn to ask better questions.”
We stare at each other for a long moment. I know the question he wants me to ask, the one I need to ask, but I can’t. I can’t, because he’ll give me an answer I don’t want, an answer I’ll have to think about, and I’ve been refusing to think about it every second of every day since Royal woke up. And the fucked up part is, I might believe him. I don’t want to believe him, but I might.
Some part of me already knows what he’ll say. Some part of me already suspects a truth so horrible I can’t let myself think it, let alone hear it spoken aloud.
“I thought you said you weren’t a liar,” I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest, my throat, my ears. I can barely speak.
“And I thought you said you weren’t a dumb bitch.”
“Then I guess we’re both wrong,” I say, and I turn and walk away. My heels echo inside the cavernous gymnasium, but it’s the only sound. This time, Preston lets me go. He doesn’t follow. He doesn’t have to. The damage has been done.
thirteen
Devlin
“Come on, my dudes, let’s party it up!” Colt slides over the door and into the back seat of the Ferrari, tossing boxes of condoms to me and Preston as he goes. “I’ve been saving up all week. I’m gonna bust a nut in some blondies tonight.”
“Actually, I’m a little bruised up,” I say, shifting the car into gear and gunning it. “I might skip the party tonight.”
“You mean you’re going to a party of two,” Preston says, slugging my shoulder as we pull out of the convenience store lot.
“Devlin’s in lo-ove,” Colt hollers, jumping up and grabbing me and the seat in a headlock, trying to give me noogies like we’re eight years old again.
“Knock it off,” I say, shoving him off.
Colt collapses back into his seat, laughing his ass off.
I don’t say anything for a few minutes. I know they’re just doing their thing. But when we turn onto the street to my neighborhood, I come clean. These guys might give me shit, but they’re still my boys.
“Yeah, I’m going to be with Crystal,” I say. “It’s the only time her family doesn’t have her under lock and key. And to be honest, getting drunk with you assholes doesn’t measure up.”
“Okay, lover boy,” Colt says, still chuckling.
“And yeah, I fucking love her,” I say. “Get used to it.”
“Damn,” Preston says, shaking his head. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”