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"We have a problem," I tell them. They sit up instantly and Sawyer pauses whatever it is that they were watching, giving me their full attention. "People have started to notice that Crawford hasn’t been around. I heard my professors talking today about checking his home and checking in with his parents and nobody having seen him and there being no trace of him. I think we're going to get caught."
The words come from me in an almost incoherent stream of one breath as my heart pounds like wild horses in my chest.
Cole saunters down the stairs with a towel wrapped around his neck, in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. "What was that about Crawford?"
I blink up at him before telling them everything again, adding extra details that I remember as I try to calm the rising panic within me.
"I’ll check in with my friend in the police department and see what's being said. But don't worry, nothing's going to happen to you or to us. I've got it covered."
I drop onto the couch and put my face in my hands. It's easy for him to say something like that. He has money and political capital, they all do. I'm just a poor girl from the City whose mom happened to marry the right man.
I'm still the one that killed him and has his blood on my hands.
It's not quite so easy as just not worrying about it.
"Go take a shower and try to relax and I'll give my buddy a call. Hopefully, by the time you're done, I'll have some answers for you." Cole puts a hand on the back of my neck and squeezes like he’s trying to reassure me. The move sends shivers down my spine, but doesn’t take away any of my fear.
I move on autopilot up to my room, jumping in the shower, spending as much time under the hot spray as I can to try and wash away the gross feeling that has taken over my whole body, like my skin is covered in a slick of oil that just won't come off.
Once I give up, realizing the feeling isn’t going anywhere, I change into my pajamas, grabbing my robe and wrapping it around me before putting on my slippers and padding back downstairs.
I figured that comfort is key to me not losing my ever-loving mind right now, so that’s what I’m going with.
By the time I reach the living room again, Travis is home and it seems that everyone has filled him in on the situation.
I take a seat in the leather chair, curling myself up in a ball, pulling my knees up against my chest and resting my chin on my arms as they rest on my knees. I don't bother to ask any questions because I know that Cole will tell me once he has answers, but he's still on the phone in the kitchen.
Worry twists in my stomach and I close my eyes, moving to put my forehead on my arms, trying to block out the rest of the room. I know they're just talking and trying to help, but I don’t know if I can deal with any of it right now.
The prospect of spending the rest of my life in jail is utterly terrifying. Especially when it was for something so simple as a mistake.
Something so simple as defending my life.
I didn't mean to kill him.
It just kind of happened.
When Cole finishes the call, he puts his phone into his pocket, runs a hand down his face, and moves back into the living room.
"Well?" Asher asks, and Cole shakes his head as he drops into the chair identical to mine opposite me.
"There's been no update on Crawford. They haven't had any missing persons sent in, but he's going to give me a call if anything crops up."
"So he knows what happened?" I ask, my heart thundering in my chest before he shakes his head.
"No, he just knows that I have a personal interest in Crawford. I basically said that he was a creepy-ass professor who I caught coming on to a student and I wanted to look into his history, and since then, I've been keeping tabs on him so it doesn't seem like anything out of the ordinary," he explains, and I nod, hoping that the police actually believe that when the time comes. Because at this point, I'm convinced it’swhen, notif.
"I think I'm just gonna go to bed," I tell them before heading back up the stairs. It might not even be dinner time yet, but all of this panic has me absolutely wiped.
So I curl up in bed and close my eyes, trying to force away the images of Crawford’s bashed-in skull.
I don't know what the future holds; I just hope that we can get ourselves out of this mess before the past really does catch up with us.
* * *
After spending most of the week spiraling, the boys have booked me and Penn a spa day for today.
It's amazingly quiet here because it's a Friday morning and everybody else is either still at school or at work. I'm loving the fact that we can relax with almost zero other people here.
