But I’m sure she knew who I was when I was arrested though.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering open to the darkness around me. Pain sears through my chest as I take a deep breath to steady my heart. Whatever we were as kids had to stay there.
Because obviously, she didn’t give a shit about the friendship we’d had.
I chew my lip as the mixture of grief and anger boils beneath the surface, thefinalmemory of Rue threatening to surface. It wasn’t that night at Matthew’s hunting cabin. It was the night I watched her stab Matthew to death on the docks.
I’d come for a payout, and instead, witnessed a murder.
Everyone in the Club knew I was there. My alibi was nonexistent, and even still, I refused to throw Rue under the bus. I could’ve pointed the finger, as half the town did.
But nope. I took the fall for her, to protect her.
And she didn’t care.
I run my hands along the tops of my thighs, fighting the urge to make the quick half mile trek to her house. How I’d fuckingloveto drag her right out of that bedroom window, demandsheseeme, force her to her knees in fucking gratitude, and then ruin her.
And that thought gets me so unbelievably hard, I feel sick.
5
RUE
“What did… What did you do?”My dad’s face grows white, as I step under the porch light. His gray hair glimmers under the orange glow, his blue irises mirroring my own.
But I can’t look at him.
My gaze drops to the pocket knife at my side, still slick with my blood and Matthew’s. “I… he…” I lift my other hand, staring at the engagement ring now missing, sunk to the bottom of the lake.
“Rue…”
“He stole your truck.” They’re the only words I can seem to find. Even though that’s only the beginning of it.
“Rue,what did you do?” My dad’s voice grows deeper, and I feel his presence come closer.
I just shake my head.
The tension and silence stay like that for a few beats, my heart hammering in my ears erratically. I know there’s so much I need to say. I need my dad to know. But my mouth just won’t move.
His tone softens as he wraps his fingers around my right hand. “Let me have the knife, and then we’ll figure it out.”
I let him take it.
“Did anyone see you?”
“Bullet,” I whisper, having forgotten that he even was there—that I’d hugged him when it was over. When Matthew’s body had splashed into the dark waters.
“Where is he?”
I shrug, my shoulders aching with tension. “I don’t know.”
“Rue,” heavy, yet gentle hands land on my shoulder, “You have to tell me what happened, because that’s the only way I can help you.”
“You mean arrest me,” I feel myself on the verge of breaking. “Please just do it.”
He’s silent, and I shrink away, fighting the part of me that imagines racing off into the woods—and the part that just wants to fall apart in my father’s arms.
“Take your clothes off by the fire pit,” Dad lets out a sigh. “Wash off as much as you can under the water hose, then shower. Avoid your mother. I’ll deal with her. Don’t wake up Eliza.”
