AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What?” I shook my head, unable to stop staring. What the hell was this?
Bucket was the big, awful rapist everyone was talking about?
“No freaking way,” I uttered.
> Chapter 5
BECKETT
Monday morning, thirty-three hours after I’d been arrested, someone finally opened my retaining cell.
“Hilliard,” the voice blaring my name made me jump. “Approach the door. It’s time for your first appearance.”
I remained seated a second longer as nerves jumbled in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if the idea of attending my arraignment was relieving or dooming. I just knew it had me on edge. I’d taken enough law classes to know I’d be told what charges had been filed against me, what my bail had been set for, and then I’d be asked to enter my plea. But other than that, I had no idea how this worked.
But I guessed I better find out before they had to come in here for me and taser me from my cot. So I stood and shuffled toward the doors until it opened and a correctional officer waiting on the other side held up a set of handcuffs.
I gulped, still unable to quite believe this was happening. I’d been arrested one other time this summer, for assault, but I’d been bailed out before spending any actual time behind bars. Other than that, I’d never even gotten a speeding ticket before. Now I was in jail for rape. Unreal.
As I turned around and placed my hands together behind my back, I thought back to my one phone call I’d made two nights ago when I’d first been brought in.
Worst fucking call of my life. My dad had answered. Couldn’t have been Mom. No. There was no reason to go easy on Beckett, not after that night I’d had with some lying chick accusing me of the worse crime ever, then her stupid naïve boyfriend beating the crap out of me, and then the cops hauling me off to jail in the back of a police car while all my fraternity brothers had watched with judgmental jeers. So yeah, let’s go straight to hard-ass dad picking up the phone first. Sure.
“Dad.” My voice had cracked on his name, and even though I knew he’d take it the worst, I was still relieved to hear his voice. I was suddenly just a kid, needing his parents. I wanted to be home with him. I wanted to be crawling into bed with him and Mom and telling them all about the nightmare I’d just had so they could soothe my fears away.
“Beck?” I heard shuffling. He and Mom were probably already in bed. I could picture him sitting up and putting on his glasses to read the time on his bedside clock. “What’s going on? It’s after midnight. Is everything okay?”
“Umm.” I shook my head before I could say the words. “Actually, no. I’m not okay. I’m kind of…” Shit, there was no easy way to say this. “I’m in jail.”
“What? Jesus, Beckett. What did you do? Drunk driving? Drunken disorderly conduct? I knew you had to be partying nonstop in that fraternity of yours.”
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the wall in front of me. My brain was still spinning from drinking and my bones hurt from Melody’s boyfriend. But all that was minor compared to the ping in my heart, too scared to tell my father the truth.
“Beck? Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” I croaked. “Trust me. I’m not going anywhere.” My laugh was dry and bitter and short lived. “But no. No, I wasn’t arrested for drunk driving.” I could only wish that had been the charge.
“Then…?”
I drew in a breath. This right here would be the test of all tests. After everything my family had been through lately, I’d definitely know where their loyalties lay.
“Beck? What were you arrested for?”
“Rape,” I whispered.
A pause followed before he said, “Excuse me?”
“Dad, you know I didn’t do it. I would never. You know me. I’m your son. This is just one big, fucked up misunderstanding. Her boyfriend showed up, so she freaked and started spouting out these lies, and…”
And holy shit, I’d just admitted to my dad I was a cheater. Fuck, I’d never cheated on a girl before or assisted in a cheating, but now I was in jail and telling my father all about my cheating ways. How was this happening?
I stopped blathering and panted for breath, worried about his response. When he didn’t have one, and ten seconds later he still hadn’t spoken, I winced. “Dad?”
He cleared his throat. “You will be held accountable for your actions, son. May God have mercy on your soul.” Then he had hung up on me.
I stared blankly at the wall as the dial tone echoed through my ear. My own father hadn’t believed me. I mean, he had reason to not believe any guy accused of rape. After what had happened to Britt, sure. But still. I was his fucking son. His flesh and blood. He knew better. He knew me.
Which made me wonder if this was about what he believed at all.
