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“You wanted to protect me.”
“Yes.” I flash back to the encounter with Randall, and his threat. “Jax—”
“And you wanted to protect your brother.”
My chest is tight. “Yes, but—”
“Which one of us do you think killed Hunter, Emma?”
I blanch, “What? No. No, I don’t think—”
“The only reason you would feel like you needed to protect us is if you felt like one of us was guilty. Do you think that I killed my brother?”
“No. I don’t think you killed your brother. When we met, you told me that you wanted revenge. You wanted answers. That’s not a man who killed his brother.”
“You just wanted to protect me,” he repeats.
“Of course I wanted to protect you. Stop saying that like it proves that I think you’re guilty. It doesn’t. I need to tell you about the party.”
“You wanted to protect me, but you told me about the test. That means—”
“No,” I insist. “No, don’t keep going there. Let this go. It doesn’t mean that I thought you were guilty. But someone wants me to believe that you killed Hunter.”
“Or that Chance killed Hunter.”
“Yes.” My stomach knots. “Whatever the case, I showed whoever is behind this that I’m with you. They can’t divide us.”
“You didn’t show them that you stood with me or Chance,” he says. “You showed them that you thought one of us was guilty. That’s why you destroyed the evidence.”
“That’s not where my head was,” I argue, but quickly concede. “But—right. I can see how it seems like that. I screwed up.”
He takes my hands and leans in closer. “I did not kill Hunter. I loved Hunter. And I didn’t want, or need, what was his.”
“I know that,” I whisper.
“You thought one of us was guilty.”
“You just won’t let this go,” I say. “My brother isn’t a killer either.” But I’m also thinking of the threats Randall made. He wanted me out of here in a bad way and that doesn’t sit well. Ineed to talk to my brother. I try to pull away from Jax, but he holds onto me. “Let go.”
“Emma—”
“Let go.” My voice lifts. “Let go now.”
He releases me, and I stand up. “I need to go.” I try to turn away.
He pulls me back around to him. “You need to go?Gowhere?”
I press on his unmoving chest. “I need to see Chance.”
He cups my face and forces my gaze to his. “We need to take a deep breath. We need to think. We need to fact gather.”
My eyes start to burn. “You think he did it.” I don’t give him time to reply. “Hedidn’tkill Hunter. He didn’t—” My voice cracks and the tears pooling in my eyes infuriate me. I don’t cry. Crying is for “little bitches” as my father often said. I’m angry. I’m angry at whoever put this between me and Jax. I’m angry at whoever is playing this game. “Hedidn’tdo it.”
Jax catches an escaping tear with his thumb, wiping it from my cheek. “Easy, baby. It’s going to be okay.”
I catch his hand. “Would Hunter commit suicide?” I ask.
“No.”
