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I come to a complete stop, my hands resting on my knees as I suck in a deep breath. I was at the edge of Tilly’s driveway. I had run all the way from my mom’s house. I needed to shower and change clothes and check some emails about retirement details from coach.
Her car was in the drive, so I jog up the wooden steps, entering the cabin with a new anxiety settling in.
“Rosie!” I call out.
She comes around the corner, carrying a laundry basket. She drops it, rushing over to me.
“Where’d you go?” She asks.
“I went back to the house, then went for a run.” I embrace her, dropping a kiss on her head. “How’d it go? What happened?”
She steps away and picks up the laundry basket.
“Typical questions. What you would expect.” She sits the basket on the table. “They know about the dinner.” She grabs a pair of pants, folding them in a jumbled mess. “They asked where I was. I told them Easton’s then I went home.”
She pulls out another piece of clothing. Her hands shaking.
“Hey...” I wrap them in mine. “It’s ok.”
She tosses the shirt and looks up at me. “They asked me about you.” She worries her lip. “They asked what our relationship was.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That we’re friends,” she says quietly.
The word made my stomach turn. We were way more than fucking friends.
“You know I didn’t really mean that.” She reaches up to lay her hand on my chest. “I just thought that was the best way to keep it simple.”
I nod in agreement. I knew she was right. “And what else?”
She takes a deep breath. “They know you were there. They said you were the last man to see him alive.”
The thud in my chest pounds, like the room was closing in. Like my worst fear was unraveling before me.
“They said they wanted to ask you some questions.”
I slide my hand over hers. “Alright. I can do that.”
“Grey.” Her eyes plead with me.
“I don’t have anything to hide. I was there. I touched him. My DNA will be all over him. I can tell them what happened. The truth.”
She tugs her hand from mine. “And the truth puts you in a really bad position, Greyson.”
I was aware of that. Aware of how this all looks.
“It’s all circumstantial,” I point out.
“You need a lawyer.” She attempts to look for her phone.
“No. That makes me look guilty.”
She pauses and rakes her hands through her hair.
“What do we do?”
“You let me handle it.” I grip her chin with my fingertips. “I just need you to trust me.”
