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“Get in,” I growl at Zoe as she waits by the passenger door, and by the time I’ve climbed up into the driver’s seat, Zoe is inside the cabin, putting her seatbelt on.
I’m still fucking fuming, but the fact that she trusts me enough to not have me drag her away has calmed the beast a little.
I speed through the streets of Santa Cruz, and by the time we are driving alongside the Pacific Ocean, about halfway to our destination, Zoe works up the courage to break the silence.
“It wasn’t me, Grayson. I mean, it was me talking to Alana, but it wasn’t me who played that recording. I had no idea we were even being recorded, Grayson. You have to believe me.”
Believe her? It’s fucking hard to believe anyone or anything right now.
My anger begins to boil to the surface again as I remember the feeling of knowing Zoe betrayed me, and my knuckles whiten as I hold the steering wheel in a vise like grip.
Stay fucking calm.
“You still told her.” I snarl feeling my face turn red as I fight to keep my rage in.
Glancing between her and the road, I see her mouth open, but then snap shut, a frown tugging her brows together.
“Why did you do what you did?” she asks quietly, her eyes dropping to her lap before she looks back at me with determination. “Why did you record us screwing at the Fourth of July party? Why go to the effort to make me think you were looking out for me by taking me in the shadows, only to record it and send it to me? I don’t understand you, Grayson. Is it your version of homemade porn? Did you think I’d like that too?”
This time, it’s me who’s opening and closing my mouth. I didn’t think to check her phone before I gave it back to her, but she must have been sent the videos too.
“It’s not me who’s sending them, Princess,” I say through gritted teeth. “Whoever has been sending them to you, has been sending them to me as well.”
“But I thought…” She frowns again, her eyes going distant as she thinks.
She’s probably thinking back to the beginning when I let her think it was me. I didn’t care what she thought back then, but I fucking care now.
“What you thought was wrong. It’s never been me sending them. I’ve been trying to figure out who it is.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
“So tell me, Princess. Why was the secret I told you, shared for everyone to hear? Not that I care what people think about me, but that… day. That time in my life. That’s my fucking burden to carry. Don’t you think I beat myself up enough without having other people judge me for it too?”
“I thought you said you didn’t care?” she whispers loud enough for me to hear, and I slam my fist against the steering wheel.
“Well, I guess I fucking lied!” I roar, skidding the truck off the road and into the entrance driveway of a ranch as memories assault me from the past.
I can still smell the scent of trash lingering in the air. I can feel the weight of the first gun I held in my hand. I can hear my dad’s pleas for his life as the kid from my school aimed his gun.
“Shoot him, Grayson. Shoot him!”
I drop my head to the steering wheel as a strangled sound falls from me, and I squeeze my eyes tight, damp with tears as the memories keep coming.
“I didn’t think he’d do it. I didn’t think the kid would really shoot my dad.”
I can hear my voice, but I can no longer see the inside of the truck or beyond. All I can see is my dad, on his knees, begging for his life. Begging me to save him.
And I was too much of a coward to do it.
The sound of the gunshot is as loud in my mind as it was that day in the alley. The sound of the splatter, of my dad’s brains painting the grimy brick wall. The scent of trash being replaced by metallic, thick in the air.
“Grayson.” Zoe’s sweet voice penetrates the dark abyss I’ve sunken into, but the moment she touches me, I flinch like the coward I was that day back in the alley.
“Don’t touch me.” I hiss, flinching away and trying to clear my vision, but it’s blurry and my mind is a mess, and I can’t fucking make out what’s real and what isn’t.
“Grayson, I’m right here. I didn’t record that conversation with Alana, and I didn’t play it for everyone to hear, but I did tell her your secret. I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t my secret to tell.” The conviction in Zoe’s voice is what severs my connection to my past, the memories finally fading away until I know I’m back in the beat-up truck.
“Princess.” I manage to get out, my voice sounding weak. Pathetic.
