“Shut up!” I snap at him, and his eyes widen in surprise.
I honestly feel like I’ve been punched at this point. I want to crumble, to disappear, to sink beneath the earth. I’ve been betrayed by the one person I actually thought was on my side. Okay, one of two.
“And what about you?” I look right at Colton. “You believe this?”
Colton lets out a heavy breath. “I know you’ve been acting a little weird and—”
“So, you believe this,” I say bitterly, the crushing blow I needed.
I don’t bother asking Owen. Of course, he believes it. He won’t even try to entertain the thought I’m trying to stay sober.
“So, everybody except Tris believes that this shit is mine?”
Tris clears her throat. “I believe you’re still sober, Gracie—”
I throw my hands up in the air and turn on my heel, leaving the house. I slam the door behind me and drop to the porch swing, leaning to place my elbows on my legs, burying my face in my hands. When the door opens, I look up and come face to face with Owen. I stand quickly, but he grabs my hand and pulls me to him before I can escape. His arms wrap around me, and he pins me against his chest. I go still, tense, and finally, I release it as I lift my arms to wrap around him. I feel the press of his chin on the top of my head, and we stand there for a few minutes without a single word to each other.
Eventually, he pulls back and steps to the side, holding out an arm to show me back inside. I feel warm, maybe a little giddy, after being held by him like that. I hesitate, but I step back into the house when Owen looks at me pointedly. He shuts the door behind us.
I push back my hair and look straight at my parents. “It isn’t mine. I’m not holding for anybody. I didn’t buy it for a just-in-case opportunity. It isn’t mine. I really don’t know how it got there.”
They share a look, and then my father nods. “Fine, but you still have to pick somewhere to go. Rehab or jail. Just until we can sort this out.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m still being punished? That isn’t mine. Why am I being punished?”
“Gracie, if it really isn’t yours and you had nothing to do with getting it, it means somebody is doing this to you. It means you’re being targeted,” Owen says gently and I look over my shoulder at him.
“Targeted for what?”
Owen shrugs and leans against the door. “You tell me. What kind of activities are you involved in, Gracie?”
I turn to face him fully. Our shared hug was too good to be true, apparently. “I don’t know what the hell you mean.”
He doesn’t even blink. “Any gambling?”
I glare at him. “I haven’t gambled in almost a fucking year.”
“Fine, old gambling issues. Got any of them? Any people from your… past that would want to take you down?”
I shake my head but decide to be completely honest. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t remember a lot of shit, Owen. Maybe? But I really don’t know.”
His face drops, and Owen shakes his head, looking over my head. I turn to face everybody else, but it’s my father that I catch.
“Daddy?” I plead, and his face twists. “Please, say you believe me. I swear it isn’t mine; I have nothing to do with it. Please, I don’t want to go somewhere I don’t need to be.”
My mother steps forward in front of my father, blocking his view from me, ultimately cutting off eye contact. I turn back to the door, but Owen’s still barricading it, and my way back out. I give up. I move across the room and around the couch, taking the chair that is obviously for me. When I’m sitting, Owen pushes off the door and comes to sit back down, putting Devon in the middle of him and Colton.
I’m facing the guys head-on, staring at the three of them, daring them to say shit right to my face now.
“Gracie—”
“It isn’t mine,” I cut Colton off. “It really isn’t.”
“Then where did it come from?” My dad asks. “Gracie, please, just be honest with us—”
“I am!” I explode and draw in a shaky breath of air, closing my eyes as I pinch the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. “This isn’t fair. I’m being accused, and nobody will even try to believe me.”
“You can’t blame us, Gracie, after everything you’ve put us through before,” my mother says gently. “You have to understand where we’re coming from.”