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It kills me that I ever thought it was possible he might feel the same way.
“I’ll take that into account for the next time.” A slight tremor shivers down my limbs, putting a quaver in my voice. I fight to keep him from noticing it. “Get notes from Drake on my revenge plan is definitely going on the to-do list.”
Drake crosses his arms over his chest, expression unreadable in the darkness. “Tell me what you figured out, Nancy Drew.”
I’m too tired for games. Sick and tired. But he clearly isn’t done moving chess pieces along the board. “It would make things a lot easier if it had been you.”
“Havoc Boys are capable of anything. What makes you think it wasn’t me?”
“Because you’re the one who called 911 and saved her life.”
He stills, muscles tensing like a coiled snake before it strikes. “Bullshit.”
For a moment, I feel a spark of satisfaction at managing to surprise him. “The 911 operator recorded your phone number. I found it in Olivia’s medical records.”
“Even if I did call the cops, that proves nothing.” His voice is mild, but the note of tension is impossible to hide. “Maybe I just didn’t want her to die after I worked her over.”
The words are meant to be a distraction. He wants me to get angry. That way, I won’t be paying attention to all the things that he isn’t saying.
“If that was the case, something tells me I wouldn’t have lasted as long at St. Bart’s as I did.” I tilt my head to the side to study what I can see of his face in the dark, ignoring the spark of pain along my spine. “You seem really determined to play the villain, here, but I’m wondering who the act is for. I know a lost little boy when I see one.”
Wood creaks as he grips the arms of his chair. “You’ve got a big mouth for someone who has already ended up in the hospital.”
“And that sounds like another empty threat because you’re not as scary as you seem to think you are,” I taunt. “Why haven’t you asked me how I ended up here in the first place?”
His brow furrows. “How did you end up in a car with Vaughn?”
“Because he kidnapped me at gunpoint.”
I expect Drake to react with disbelief. Instead, he only stares at me with a hard gaze.
“Why?”
“Vaughn somehow figured out that I’m not really Olivia. Apparently, the two of them got pretty hot and heavy last year, not sure if you knew that. He wanted me to go to the cops and make a false statement exonerating Havoc House.”
His foot taps against the tile floor, the movement almost compulsive. “I don’t believe you.”
“Suit yourself. Everyone around here is a fucking liar, so a healthy dose of skepticism is probably for the best.”
Drake looks away. I can tell because for a moment the weight of his regard lifts enough that it’s easier to breathe.
“What caused the car crash?”
“Someone ran us off the road. Hit and run. Maybe you could shed some light on that little detail.”
“Accidents happen. People are cowards who don’t want to face the consequences of their actions.” Drake shakes his head, but the lines of his body are stiff. “You think Vaughn attacked Olivia?”
“He says he didn’t.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I shouldn’t,” I pause, wishing that it wasn’t the case. “But, I do.”
“Then who did it?”
“If I knew that, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
There is a long moment of quiet as he broods.
