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April rolls her eyes, trying to manage her impatience with me. “The video of me with the masked man.”
I stuff a bag with writing supplies into the backseat. “Stop covering for him. It’s already over.”
“I’m not.” April steps forward, holding out her phone. “I have proof. And to be honest, I wouldn’t want to cover for him anyway. He was an ass.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I so badly want to believe her. Want to see the proof that Saint wasn’t the man behind the mask that night. But I push the inkling of hope back down. “So why do you care?”
“I don’t. I want to know the truth. I’ll show you the proof if you tell me whether you gave Austin those drugs.”
I approach her slowly. Her gaze tracks my movements warily until I grab her hand. She’s scared and alone, searching for the answers she’s desperate for.
Even after everything, I can’t bring myself to tell her Saint gave Austin the coke. She likely wouldn’t believe me anyway, and there’s nothing tying him to the crime. But I can tell her what she wants to know.
“I swear I didn’t give him those drugs, April.”
Her eyes shimmer, but she doesn’t pull away. “I hate that I believe you.”
For the first time, I put myself in her shoes, and I can understand. If I thought some random woman overdosed someone I love, I’d do everything in my power to bring them justice too.
Mack glances back and forth between me and April. “Um, sorry, but if it’s not Saint in the video, who is it?”
“Right.” April sniffles and clicks on her screen before turning it toward me and Mack.
The same video I got in the text plays. I don’t want to watch this shit again. “I’ve already seen this.”
“He trimmed the video. Keep watching,” April insists.
After the same first thirty seconds pass, the video continues. In it, the man behind the mask murmurs, “Better keep your mouth shut if you don’t want anyone to see this.”
Beside me, Mack stiffens.
His voice is distorted behind the mask, but it doesn’t sound like Saint’s.
In the video, April reaches for S.T. Nicholson’s mask. My heart is about to burst. Every last bit of hope in my body is screaming for it to be anyone but Saint.
April lifts the mask off his face. Displaying his reflection in the mirror.
Trevor.
My stomach hits the ground.
“That asshole!” I screech.
Saint was right. Trevor was framing him. Fucking April and sending me the video to split us up.
And it worked.
Everything makes sense now. Once Trevor realized I was falling for Saint, he took it upon himself to scare me. To make silent phone calls and send me creepy texts and smash my window so I would believe Saint was behind it. So that I would fall out of love with him.
So I would want Trevor instead.
Nausea rolls in my stomach. This whole time, he’s been pretending to help me, when in reality, he was the one behind all the psychological torment.
That’s why the stalking stopped. Trevor got what he wanted.
“Oh my god,” Mack whispers, hand covering her mouth. She’s ghostly pale.
Saint wasn’t lying. He didn’t cheat on me. He didn’t betray me. He vowed to never hurt me, and yet, at the first chance anyone gave me to doubt him, I did. I believed Trevor over Saint.
