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Nope, they’re still inside the room, and currently staring holes through my flesh.
“I have an idea.” Oliver is the first to break the silence.
“Well, what is it?” Banks asks impatiently.
“We could bring you to our father…” His voice trails off, and I wonder if he’s being serious or not.
“Your father would let you bring me to your house?” I ask, trying to hide the surprise from my voice.
Sullivan shrugs, “What’s the worst he could do? Tell us to leave? We can’t let you near your father right now, so the next best thing would be our father.”
“Maybe he can piece the missing pieces of your puzzle together?” Oliver adds.
“Or he could be a huge prick and make things ten times worse,” Banks mutters under his breath. Oliver and Sullivan look at him, their features hardening.
“You aren’t helping.”
Banks lifts his hands as if to say he’s innocent. “Look, I’m not trying to be a negative nelly here. I want Harlow to get all the answers she needs just as much as you both do, but Dad isn’t going to take well to us bringing a Lockwood home.” Our gazes meet as he says the next words, “Last names don’t mean shit to us, but Dad still sees her as the enemy, and I don’t want her caught in his crosshairs.”
To many, I might be weak, but I am mighty, and if I want answers, I may have to cross bridges that shouldn’t be crossed. I may have to do things that I shouldn’t do, but I’ll do what I need to do. No one is going to dictate what happens in my life anymore.
“Let’s do it.”
“Seriously?” Banks runs a hand through his hair as if he’s agitated. Was he not expecting me to go along with this?
“Yes, I want answers. Your dad has some. Let’s do it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“’Kay, I’ll make the arrangements, and tomorrow we’ll visit our parents,” Oliver announces as if it’s final to his brothers.
Banks leaves the room a moment later, and Sullivan walks over to the bed and crawls into the vacant spot left beside me.
“Is he going to be okay? I ask. I kind of want to chase after him but know he needs the space.
“He’ll be fine. He’s just worried about what our dad will say or try to do to you.”
I nod, understanding completely.
“Our father won’t touch you. Not if he wants to live.” Oliver’s words have a sharp edge to them, and I shiver wondering if he really means that. Would he, and his brothers go against their parents for me? Would they risk it all for me?
I guess we’ll find out.
Oliver gets out his phone and hands it to me. “Now to the hard part. You need to call the detective investigating your hit and run case and tell him what you know.”
Looking down at his phone, I realize the detective’s number is already pulled up. “How do you have his number?”
“We had to make sure they knew the whole story and were doing their jobs. We regularly talked to the detective and checked in to see if there were any updates.”
“Oh.” I probably shouldn’t be surprised by that, but somehow, I still am. I just can’t get over how committed they are to me. Even when I didn’t even know who they were, they took care of me, watched out for me.
Hitting the green call button, I hold the phone to my ear and wait for someone to answer while trying not to think about what I’m about to do. The person I thought was my best friend really isn’t, and I’m about to send her to jail… maybe for a very long time.
4
The drive to the Bishop estate isn’t that long, but it seems like an eternity when you’re as nauseated as I am.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sullivan asks, his forehead scrunched up in concern.
“Yeah, I’m good. Like you said, it’s just a little hard to stomach all of this. All these emotions, all these questions surrounding my life, it’s really weighing on me. Hopefully, your dad can clear up at least some of the confusion.”
Banks grunts next to me, his gaze fixed on something outside the window. He’s barely spoken since we decided to come here. I know he is unhappy with it, but I can’t think of another way to actually figure out what’s going on, at least not one that doesn’t involve going back to my father. I need some answers, and right now, George Bishop is my best bet.
Reaching across the back seat for Banks, I latch on to one of his wrists and pull him closer. I half expect him to pull away and tell me, no, but he lets me interlace my fingers with his without complaint. When he finally turns his head, his sea-blue eyes find mine, and the worry swimming in their depths crashes into me like a tidal wave.
