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“We’ll make sure that whoever questions her is trained to talk to victims of assault,” I try and soothe her. My phone rings in my pocket while I’m talking, but I ignore it knowing already who it is.
“The lawyer is here,” I tell Willow after I check my phone.
Her face turns sickly pale, fear bubbling to the surface, “Will you be able to stay? I don’t want to be alone with someone I don’t know.”
“I’m sure it’s okay if I stay.” I give her a reassuring smile, and then press my lips to her forehead before getting up to open the door for the lawyer. I can’t help but notice how she is clinging onto me for support. How she needs me and wants me right now. I hate the circumstances, but I do not hate this new side of her. I don’t hate it at all. In fact, it makes me crave her that much more, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been more terrified of the unknown and what the future holds than right now.
It takes two hours for them to take her statement and get all the paperwork taken care of. Before they leave, the police assure me they are doing everything as fast as they can, but in my eyes, it’s not fast enough. I feel a little on edge and do my best not to take my anger out on Willow. I don’t tell her, but someone is already at the facility Ashton is staying at, talking to her.
All we need her to do is change her statement. My father and Brett assured her they wouldn’t press charges, and the police say that as long as Brett is okay with the outcome, the state won’t charge her for making a wrong statement either.
After the police are finally gone, Willow and I are left alone in her room again. Part of me wants to hold her all day while the other wants to go to my family’s estate and wait for any news regarding my brother. When my phone starts to ping every five seconds with emails, calls, and texts from my mom and dad, I finally decide it’s time to go.
As if Willow can read my mind, she stirs on my chest, where she’s been sprawled out for a good while. The last thing I want to do is leave right now, but I have to.
“I need to go, Willow. I hate to leave you, but I really need to go.”
“I know,” she murmurs softly. Through her thick lashes, she peeks up at me, her eyes still swollen and red from all the crying she did this morning.
“Are you going to be okay here?” I don’t know why I even ask. That’s such a stupid question. After the shit with Nate yesterday, his confession to raping Ashton, and the fact the police have zero leads on where he is, I doubt she’s anywhere close to being okay.
Of course, despite all of that, she gives me a nod. “I’ll be fine.”
She rolls to the side, so her body is lying on the bed and not on top of me. I miss her body the moment we lose touch. Leaning over, I kiss her on the forehead and get up to put my shoes on. I can’t believe how quickly our relationship has changed. How quickly she went from hating me to needing me. Or maybe she always needed me, but she is just now ready to admit it.
“I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay, I’m going to try to reach my father and see if he can take me to Ashton.”
“Maybe you can ask Alice to drive you instead?” After I saw her father almost hit her yesterday, I’d rather she not be alone with him today, or ever. Willow nods in agreement, obviously, I don’t have to give her an explanation.
“I’ll call Alice,” she confirms, grabbing her phone.
I slip out of the room while Willow makes the call to her friend. I have to force my legs to move, taking each step further away from her. I am torn between wanting to stay with her and wanting to go home. My head says to go home, but the rest of my body wants to stay.
My phone pings again, as if to give me another sign that I need to leave. Checking my messages, I read the words I’ve so long hoped to read.
Dad: She confessed everything. Brett was released.
On the way to my parents’ house, I break every speed limit there is. Pulling into the driveway thirty minutes later, I come to a halt with my tires squealing. I kill the engine and open the door at the same time. There are two cars I don’t recognize parked out front, and I wonder who all is here.
I half run toward the front door. When my foot touches the first step of the porch, the door flies open. I look up, expecting either one of my parents to be there ready to yell at me for not coming earlier. Instead, I find a large body filling out the door frame. All the pressure on my shoulders, the anger, and hate, it fades to the background.
