Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
She glares. “I worked my ass off!”
“Just checking, since you like to lie, Lilah.”
“You don’t know why I did shit!” She pushes back. “And I never see my dad! My parents got divorced right after everything happened. I lived with my mom and my dad has some sort of existential crisis or midlife crisis, he buys cars and dates women half his age. I highly doubt he’s the monster you’ve made him out to be in the last few minutes.”
“Then why did he fucking tell you I died? That’s not a white lie, Lilah, it’s life and death, which means he was scared enough to make you stop asking questions. Makes you wonder what he knew, what my dad knows, and what my mom knew before she was murdered but she sure as hell didn’t take her own life with prescription pills with the housekeepers name on them, alright?” I’m angry. Too angry to do this now. “When you’re ready to try honesty…” I shrug. “You know where to find me.”
She says nothing.
I storm out of the room.
I can’t even look at her.
But at last, I know more now than I did before. So why do I feel so hollow inside?
Why does the truth no longer matter if I don’t have her on my side?
Why does it have to be her?
Shit.
I stomp all the way to my office and sit. I’m there for God knows how long, staring up at the computer screen when a knock suddenly comes out of nowhere.
It’s Lilah. She shuffles in and closes the door behind her. It’s quiet. Tense. Her eyes dart to my mouth and back up again.
“No.” I say.
“No?”
“I’m not Evans, I’m not bending you over this desk, that’s low, even for you.”
She clenches her fists at her sides and stares me down. “They said you would get a slap on the wrist. They told me what to say. They coached me. They said it would be fine and if I didn’t, my dad would go to prison. There. Happy?”
“Happy? No, I’m sure as hell not happy, Lilah, I’m not happy he’s involved, I’m not happy you lied, and now I’m really unhappy I’m not the type of guy Evans is because I think the only thing that would make me fucking happy is having you naked beneath me. Leave.”
“But—”
“Leave!” I roar.
She scurries out of the room, and I’m left there feeling equal parts relieved and aroused wondering what the hell I’m going to do about it.
Explains why my mom hated her in the end, not because of the trial but because she blamed her the same way I blamed her. The same way everyone blamed her. The realization makes me physically sick.
I reach out toward the door. She’s still standing there, breathing on the other side, staring like she’s willing to face my wrath just to say sorry again. That’s Lilah, though. How could I forget? She hates when people are upset with her, she can’t leave it alone.
If she were mine, I’d apologize for yelling. If she’d been mine all those years ago maybe she wouldn’t have done this, or maybe it would have happened exactly the same way. I don’t know anymore, all I know is she’s not mine now.
She’s out of reach. Maybe it’s for the best.
My fingers itch to touch her face again, to brush her hair back and look into her eyes. It’s instinct to touch her, dangerous instinct.
And suddenly I understand exactly why revenge stopped feeling satisfying the second she popped back into my life.
Because you can't spend years wanting someone dead—and years listening to them save you—
Without becoming completely, utterly ruined. The sound of her phone ringing zaps me back as she answers it. Then quickly gets off. I look down at my own phone. I got a text at nearly the exact same time.
Unknown number.
One text.
One attachment.
A photo.
I open it.
And every ounce of warmth leaves my body.
The door slams open. It’s Lilah holding her phone, while I stare down at the image. A date is stamped down at the bottom.
Both of our dads.
Together. Shaking hands.
In front of the fucking university, days after I went to prison.
My stomach drops.
Because suddenly the question isn't who lied and why anymore. It’s what did they both get in that lie and why were they standing together the week my life ended with fucking smiles on their faces like they’d just won when me and Lilah had lost everything?
17
“Revenge requires distance. Desire destroys distance. And mercy begins exactly there.” –The Count of Monte Cristo
LILAH
Igroan and walk by Charlie. She side-eyes me with a quick glance. “Get into a fight with a coyote or finally embracing nineties grunge?”
I flip her off. “Why is this class so early?”
“Because college is built to make you fail. It’s a system that wants to deconstruct you before building you back up again.” She grins, then her smile falls. “Oh sorry, thought you wanted the real answer. That was a rhetorical question, got it. Out of words this early in the morning? I have enough for both of us, don’t worry. So there’s a party—”