Page 77 of The Accident

Kayleigh glances at the phone, then at me. “Who?”

“Evan Fine.” I don’t bother softening it. “You know who I mean.”

She drops her gaze, cheeks flushed. “He’s just following up about the penthouse. He wants to see if you’re still interested in listing.”

“We’re going through Gerald,” I say. “At Stillwell Realtors. I told him that I don’t want a lackey handling this transaction, and Gerald agreed. He’s doing the work himself.” The muscles in my jaw twitch but I keep my hands on the table.

She nods. “I know, but⁠—”

“But what?” The words land heavy, weighted with everything I’m not saying. My heart is heavy, the pit in my stomach almost at my feet. Yet Kayleigh continues with her charade.

She bites her lip. “It’s nothing. I told Evan that you’re handling things with Gerald, but I guess he’s an eager beaver, ready to please. Maybe he’s doing it for extra credit with Gerald, I don’t know.”

I exhale, slow. I look at her, really look: the pink flush on her cheekbones, the soft curve of her neck, the way her fingers pick at the napkin in her lap. I think about the other times in the past two weeks I’ve caught her texting after midnight, the weird nervous energy she brings home after Pilates, the mornings where she stares at her phone for too long and says it’s just her mom, or Stella.

I should leave it alone. I should act like I don’t care. But the thing in my chest won’t let me.

“Let me see the phone.” I say it soft, like a dare.

Kayleigh freezes. Her hand covers the device like a shield, thumb locked on the screen.

“I’d rather not,” she says, too quiet.

Something cold and electric fires through me.

I push back from the table, the chair scraping the marble, and stand. The air goes still. She watches me, wide-eyed, like she’s not sure whether to run or stay. I cross to her, slow and measured, and plant both hands on the back of her chair. I lean in until I can smell the floral shampoo in her hair.

“I’m not mad,” I say. “But I want to know the truth. Are you fucking him?”

She closes her eyes for a second. I see the tremor in her throat when she swallows.

“No of course not! You know I’m not, Trevor. I would rather die first.”

I stare at her flushed features and nod sharply. I believe her because Kayleigh is too innocent to share that beautiful body with multiple men simultaneously. Still, there are affairs of the heart.

“Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking idiot,” I grind out. “Tell me why you’re in touch with him still.”

Kayleigh looks down, averting her gaze. Then she looks up. “Evan keeps texting because—” she starts, then falters. “Well, because he thinks I’m being held here against my will.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded.

She laughs, but it’s a small, strangled thing. “He thinks you’re a monster. That I’m your captive.” She says it like it’s funny, but her face is pale.

My mind stutters. “Why the fuck would he think that?”

Kayleigh looks at the table, fingers twisting the napkin. “Because I messed up. When he came for the walk-through, I forgot to put away the handcuffs on the twin bed. You know, the ones from before that we never took down from the railing. The ones you—” Her voice cracks. “He saw them, and I didn’t realize it until later. He keeps texting, wanting to know if I’m safe. He thinks you’re some psycho who locked me up and won’t let me leave. Like there’s domestic violence.”

I let the words hang between us.

Then, before I can stop myself, I sweep my hand across the table. The wine glass nearest me rockets off the edge, shattering against the far wall, crimson spreading down the white like a wound.

Kayleigh flinches back in her chair. Her hands go to her mouth. For a moment, neither of us moves.

Then I lean in, knuckles white on the table, voice flat as stone.

“Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of me?”

She shakes her head, fast, but tears brim in her eyes. “No, I’m not—Trevor, I’m not scared of you. But he won’t stop. He keeps saying he can help. He thinks I’m your sex slave or something.” She laughs again, a sick little sound. “Like some kind of tabloid story, where you brainwash girls and keep them chained up as your sex toys.”