Healed Heart, page 13
It’s a lie, of course. And a terrible one at that. But it’s all I can offer her at the moment.
“But something did happen,” she says.
“Yes,” I admit. “But I promise you, I’ll tell you everything when it’s sorted out.”
“You can tell me now. I’m right behind you.”
I turn.
Jeez. There she is, waving.
She walks toward me as I end the call.
“Okay,” she says. “So what did Ralph want?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jason
An officer unlocks my cell. “Your attorney’s here, Lansing.”
Thank God! Angie came through.
“Thank you.” I get to my feet and take a moment to smooth out the wrinkles in my clothes. They’ve seen better days, but they’re the least of my worries right now.
I follow the officer down the narrow hallway, my heart pounding. This is real. This is really happening. I try my best to squash down the panic and focus instead on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Jason Lansing,” an older gentleman greets me as we round a corner into a small room. He’s dressed in a finely tailored suit and holds out his hand. “Blake Haywood.”
“Mr. Haywood.” I shake his hand firmly. “Angela Simpson sent you?”
He nods, releasing my hand and gesturing toward the chairs set up at a small table. “Please, take a seat.”
I sit down across from him.
He immediately gets down to business. “I’ve spoken with the police. They’ve outlined the charges against you.” He opens his briefcase.
My stomach churns. “What are they saying?”
“Assault and battery, as you’re aware,” Haywood replies. He glances up at me, his eyes grave but not without sympathy. “It’s a serious charge, Dr. Lansing.”
I swallow hard to tamp down the nausea that’s clawing up my throat. “But I didn’t do it.”
“I believe you,” Haywood says, his gaze steady on my face. “But it’s not about what I believe. It’s about what we can prove in court.”
I nod. “What do we do now?”
Haywood leans back in his chair. “We build our case. We gather evidence to show that you aren’t guilty of these charges.”
“But how? I was alone, and I have no alibi. I’m not even sure when he got attacked.”
“First, let’s not panic,” Haywood says. “Just because you don’t have an alibi doesn’t automatically mean you’re guilty. There are still many avenues we can explore.” He adjusts his glasses, looks at me intently. “We’ll start by retrieving all the security footage from around the area during the time of the assault. Second, we’ll look for any signs that someone had a motive to harm Ralph or to frame you. Don’t forget, there’s also forensic evidence to consider.”
I nod slowly, trying to absorb everything he’s saying while also dealing with the gnawing fear in my gut. Haywood is calm and composed, but this situation is anything but.
“Forensic evidence,” I say. “Like DNA.”
Haywood nods. “The attacker must have left behind some physical evidence at the crime scene. Blood, hair, fingerprints. They’re all pieces of the puzzle that could help us prove your innocence.”
His words give me a glimmer of hope. “So we have a chance?”
“We always have a chance, Dr. Lansing,” Haywood replies. “The key is to remain calm and focused. We can’t let them see us sweat.”
I take a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Haywood. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet. But I do have some good news. I’ve arranged for your arraignment”—he looks at his watch—“in about twenty minutes.”
“You’re kidding. You got me on the docket today?”
“Never underestimate the power of your girlfriend’s family, Dr. Lansing. The Steels are royalty in Colorado.”
“I thought that was just on the Western Slope.”
“Nope.” He checks his watch again. “Be glad you have one in your corner. It will serve you well.” He rises and knocks on the door.
A uniformed officer enters. “You done?”
“For now,” Haywood says. “But I need to get Dr. Lansing to court for his arraignment.”
The officer raises an eyebrow. “Today?”
“Yes. Judge Lowe agreed to add him to his docket before the end of the day.”
“Nice to have connections,” the officer murmurs.
“Indeed,” Haywood says with a nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
The officer steps aside, and we walk past him and out of the room.
My mind races over everything that’s happened. I replay every piece of the puzzle, trying to find a clue that might lead to my exoneration.
Haywood turns to me as we enter the courthouse. “The arraignment is pretty straightforward. The judge will read the charges against you, ask for your plea, and then decide on bail.”
“Bail?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers. “It’s possible, but it depends on several factors—the seriousness of the charges, your prior record, ties to the community, and risk of flight.”
“I have no prior record,” I tell him earnestly. “And no reason to run.”
The lie tastes like acid on my tongue.
I have the ultimate reason to run. To Switzerland. To regain my livelihood.
But that’s out of the question now. I’m not a criminal, and I won’t break the law by running.
“Your lack of criminal history, not to mention your connection to the community through your work, will certainly help your case.”
As we approach the courtroom, a wave of fear washes over me. This is it. The start of the battle to save my life from a wrongful conviction.
“In there”—Haywood points at the imposing wooden doors—“you are not just Dr. Jason Lansing. You are my client, and I am here to protect you. Trust me, listen to me, and we will get through this together.”
With a deep breath, I nod. We enter the courtroom, and a collective wave of gazes falls on me.
Haywood leans in close, talking quietly so only I can hear. “Stand tall, Jason. Don’t give them anything to read into.”
I follow his advice as best as I can, taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart.
“All rise,” a court officer declares as a door on one side of the room opens.
I stand along with everyone else in the room as the judge, an elderly man with a stern expression and a shock of white hair, enters and takes his seat at the high bench.
“Be seated,” he announces.
We settle back into our chairs. The hushed murmur of conversation fades away, replaced by a palpable tension in the air.
“Case number 47C-2021, the People versus Jason Lansing,” the court clerk reads out.
Haywood nudges me gently. “Stand up.”
I follow his command, trying to keep my face neutral as I rise.
A young lady stands on the prosecution side. “Layne Vandernash for the people, your honor.”
“Blake Haywood for the defendant,” Haywood says.
“Dr. Lansing has been charged with felony assault and battery,” the judge says. “How does your client plead, Mr. Haywood?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor. As Dr. Lansing is a respected member of the community with no prior record, we ask that he be released on his own recognizance.”
“Ms. Vandernash?”
“The complaint against Dr. Lansing is severe,” she says, “but given that this is his first offense, the people won’t object to bail set at one hundred thousand dollars.”
I gulp. I have the money, but damn.
The judge nods. “I agree with the people, though a hundred thousand is high. Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars.”
The judge’s gavel cracks like a gunshot, and as they move on to the next case, I stand there frozen, my fate now tangled in a system that doesn’t know me, doesn’t care, and might just swallow me whole.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Angie
“You going to answer me?” Tabitha says. “Ralph must have wanted to see you for some reason.”
Yeah. He wanted me to fuck him in his hospital bed in order to drop the charges against Jason.
“School stuff,” I lie.
Tabitha shakes her head. “We haven’t known each other long, but you’re a terrible liar, Ange.”
God, she’s so much like Sage. How many times have I heard my twin sister say those exact same words to me?
I close my eyes, take a deep breath in. “It’s a freaking long story, Tabitha. Let’s just say he’s a fucking dick. I was right the first time, and I hope you’re over your little crush on him.”
“I am.” She frowns. “But he looks so pathetic.”
“Exactly. Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic. I mean, what kind of guy lets another guy do that to him? Didn’t his father ever teach him how to fight?”
I don’t particularly like the words coming out of my mouth. I’m usually a much more empathetic person. No one deserves to be beaten up like that.
Except Ralph does.
Ralph definitely does.
He’s falsely accusing Jason, and right now Jason is rotting in a jail cell at the police station. I hope the attorney has gotten to him.
I should be there at the station, demanding answers. But what would I even say? That they have the wrong guy? That Jason wouldn’t hurt anyone? The system doesn’t care about gut feelings, about love, about the truth hidden beneath all the lies. It cares about evidence, and right now, it feels like the world is against the man I love.
I take a deep breath. Jason needs me to be strong. He needs me to fight. I don’t know how—not yet—but I will. Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I’m not letting him go down for something he didn’t do.
“I don’t know,” Tabitha is saying. “Ralph was roughed up pretty badly. Maybe it was more than one person. Or maybe he didn’t have a dad growing up. Maybe no one taught him how to fight. Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I resist the eye roll.
Tabitha is a nice girl. She just doesn’t want to admit that Ralph got his ass kicked because she thought she liked him.
But part of her knows he’s an ass. We’ve had this conversation.
I sigh. “Okay, Tabitha, I lied.”
“Oh?”
“He didn’t want to see me about school stuff.”
“Shocking,” she says dryly.
I draw in a deep breath. “You really want to know what happened?”
“Well, yeah.”
“He literally wanted me to fuck him. He had a great big old boner, and he wanted me to climb on top of him and fuck him in his hospital bed.”
She doesn’t say anything.
Her jaw doesn’t drop. She doesn’t go rigid or anything.
Wouldn’t most people after I just told them that?
Finally she speaks. “Angie, don’t lie to me.”
I laugh. Seriously, let out a guffaw. “That’s not a lie. You can go ask him if you want, though we all know he’s a big liar, so…”
That’s all I can say to her. Jason is still her professor, and he may not want me throwing the information around that he’s been arrested for the attack on Ralph.
I can’t believe I ever thought he might be guilty.
I love Jason. I know him. Or at least I thought I did. But when the words assault and arrested first reached me, my brain hesitated. Not because I believe he’s capable of something so awful, but because the world teaches us to doubt, to wonder if we ever truly know anyone.
And that hesitation? That fleeting moment where my mind wavered? It feels like a betrayal.
I want to shake it off, pretend it never happened, but it lingers like a stain I can’t scrub away. Jason is sitting in a holding cell right now, scared, alone, probably wondering if I truly believe he’s innocent.
I press my hands against my temples, trying to will the guilt away, but it doesn’t budge. I know he’s innocent. I know it.
I tent my fingers in front of my nose, take another deep breath. “Tabitha, I can’t make you believe me. And I’m sorry I lied at first. Of course Ralph didn’t want to see me about school stuff. He could’ve asked anybody about school stuff. Eli, for one, who is much more of an academic than I am, and he was there earlier. So I’m sorry. Sorry I lied. I lied because the truth was disgusting and I didn’t want to repeat it. But it is the truth. He wanted me to screw him.”
She bites her lip. “Damn. He must have it bad for you.”
“I don’t know.” I frown. “I honestly don’t get that vibe from him.”
“He tried to kiss you at your place. You told me.”
“He did. And it shocked the heck out of me because I didn’t get that vibe from him, like I said.”
She scrunches her forehead. “What do you mean that vibe?”
“You know.” I lay a hand over my heart. “When you feel something for someone, and you have that feeling they feel something back. Or if you don’t feel something for someone, but you get that vibe from them that they feel more for you than you want them to.”
She frowns. “I’m notoriously bad at telling when someone likes me. For example, you keep telling me Eli likes me, and I don’t get that vibe at all.”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. My cousin Ava always says I’m intuitive.”
“Your cousin Ava?”
“Did I tell you about her? I can’t remember. She’s a baker, lives at home in Snow Creek. Doesn’t take any of our family’s money.”
She widens her eyes. “What? Why would she do that?”
“She’s the only one of us who doesn’t. We all respect her for it, but we also kind of think she’s nuts.” I sigh. “Anyway, she’s very intuitive. Reads tarot cards all the time. Not that I really believe in that stuff, but it’s amazing how accurate she actually is. She says the cards don’t actually tell the future. It’s more that they allow you to realign your way of thinking, which requires some good intuition. And she always said I had a lot of that. Maybe I do. Because I do usually get a vibe when someone’s interested in me, whether I return the feeling or not.” I cross my arms. “And I’m good at telling when a guy is a creep, too. Got that the first time I ever laid eyes on Ralph.”
“I wish I had some of that intuition,” she says. “I seriously get nothing from Eli, and I thought I was kind of getting something from Ralph. But maybe that’s just because I was attracted to him.” She shakes her head. “I’ve kind of always had a thing for older guys. My best friend in college, Toby, had a daddy complex, but that’s ridiculous for me, because I have a great relationship with my dad.”
“Trust me, I totally get the vibe from Eli toward you. I really like him. As a friend, of course.”
“I don’t know… I’m kind of partial to blond men.”
Jason is dark-haired. Most of my family is dark-haired. The only exceptions are my father, my brother Henry, and my cousins Dale and Donny—all blond. And none of them have any actual Steel blood.
Though I didn’t mean for this conversation to become about Tabitha’s love interest, I’m glad it’s taken a turn. The less time I have to talk about Ralph and what he asked of me, the better.
“There’s nothing wrong with a preference, Tabitha,” I say, offering her a smile. “We all have them.”
She nods, pushing a strand of her dirty-blond hair behind her ear. “I guess so. It just feels so weird, you know? Like I’m choosing a guy based on his hair color.”
“Hey, we’re all a bit shallow, right?” I pat her on the shoulder. “We like what we like.”
She lets out a chuckle, and for the first time today, I feel some of the tension ease.
Despite the joking, my mind still hovers on Jason alone in his cell.
“I need to get going,” I tell Tabitha. “I’ve cut classes yesterday and today. I need to check the school website to see what I missed and get caught up.”
“Yeah, okay. You want to get a drink later?”
A drink? I could use several, but I have to be available for Jason. Mr. Haywood has probably contacted him by now, but more than likely he won’t be arraigned until tomorrow.
“I don’t think so,” I tell Tabitha, “but thanks. Maybe sometime this weekend.”
“I’ll hold you to that, bestie.” She grins as we part ways.
I drive back to my townhome, and I cuddle with Tillie on my couch, my books open in front of me. I’m not sure how much time passes when my doorbell rings.
I look through the peephole and gasp.
Chapter Thirty
Jason
She looks beautiful, as always.
“Jason!” Angie gasps. “You got out already?”
“Thanks to the attorney you sent.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Angie. My life is in your hands, isn’t it?”
Her eyes well up, but she quickly blinks away the tears. She opens the door wider. I step inside, feeling an immediate rush of relief.
“Sit,” she mutters, gesturing toward the couch. “You look like you need a drink.”
“Do I?” I say dryly. “Can’t imagine why.”
She doesn’t smile back at me. Instead she heads into the kitchen and returns with two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. She pours us both a drink and hands one to me.
I swirl the amber liquid in the glass, releasing its smoky aroma.
“Thank you.” I raise the glass to my lips and take a long sip. The burn of the whiskey is a welcome distraction from the chaos in my mind.
“Are you okay?” Angie asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I shrug, looking down at my drink. “I don’t know. I’m out of jail for now, but the charges are serious.”
Angie nods and sets her glass down on the coffee table. She shifts closer to me on the couch, places a comforting hand on my arm. “You didn’t do it. We’re going to prove your innocence.”
For an instant, I let myself believe her words, to believe in the possibility that everything might turn out okay.
“But something did happen,” she says.
“Yes,” I admit. “But I promise you, I’ll tell you everything when it’s sorted out.”
“You can tell me now. I’m right behind you.”
I turn.
Jeez. There she is, waving.
She walks toward me as I end the call.
“Okay,” she says. “So what did Ralph want?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jason
An officer unlocks my cell. “Your attorney’s here, Lansing.”
Thank God! Angie came through.
“Thank you.” I get to my feet and take a moment to smooth out the wrinkles in my clothes. They’ve seen better days, but they’re the least of my worries right now.
I follow the officer down the narrow hallway, my heart pounding. This is real. This is really happening. I try my best to squash down the panic and focus instead on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Jason Lansing,” an older gentleman greets me as we round a corner into a small room. He’s dressed in a finely tailored suit and holds out his hand. “Blake Haywood.”
“Mr. Haywood.” I shake his hand firmly. “Angela Simpson sent you?”
He nods, releasing my hand and gesturing toward the chairs set up at a small table. “Please, take a seat.”
I sit down across from him.
He immediately gets down to business. “I’ve spoken with the police. They’ve outlined the charges against you.” He opens his briefcase.
My stomach churns. “What are they saying?”
“Assault and battery, as you’re aware,” Haywood replies. He glances up at me, his eyes grave but not without sympathy. “It’s a serious charge, Dr. Lansing.”
I swallow hard to tamp down the nausea that’s clawing up my throat. “But I didn’t do it.”
“I believe you,” Haywood says, his gaze steady on my face. “But it’s not about what I believe. It’s about what we can prove in court.”
I nod. “What do we do now?”
Haywood leans back in his chair. “We build our case. We gather evidence to show that you aren’t guilty of these charges.”
“But how? I was alone, and I have no alibi. I’m not even sure when he got attacked.”
“First, let’s not panic,” Haywood says. “Just because you don’t have an alibi doesn’t automatically mean you’re guilty. There are still many avenues we can explore.” He adjusts his glasses, looks at me intently. “We’ll start by retrieving all the security footage from around the area during the time of the assault. Second, we’ll look for any signs that someone had a motive to harm Ralph or to frame you. Don’t forget, there’s also forensic evidence to consider.”
I nod slowly, trying to absorb everything he’s saying while also dealing with the gnawing fear in my gut. Haywood is calm and composed, but this situation is anything but.
“Forensic evidence,” I say. “Like DNA.”
Haywood nods. “The attacker must have left behind some physical evidence at the crime scene. Blood, hair, fingerprints. They’re all pieces of the puzzle that could help us prove your innocence.”
His words give me a glimmer of hope. “So we have a chance?”
“We always have a chance, Dr. Lansing,” Haywood replies. “The key is to remain calm and focused. We can’t let them see us sweat.”
I take a deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Haywood. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet. But I do have some good news. I’ve arranged for your arraignment”—he looks at his watch—“in about twenty minutes.”
“You’re kidding. You got me on the docket today?”
“Never underestimate the power of your girlfriend’s family, Dr. Lansing. The Steels are royalty in Colorado.”
“I thought that was just on the Western Slope.”
“Nope.” He checks his watch again. “Be glad you have one in your corner. It will serve you well.” He rises and knocks on the door.
A uniformed officer enters. “You done?”
“For now,” Haywood says. “But I need to get Dr. Lansing to court for his arraignment.”
The officer raises an eyebrow. “Today?”
“Yes. Judge Lowe agreed to add him to his docket before the end of the day.”
“Nice to have connections,” the officer murmurs.
“Indeed,” Haywood says with a nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
The officer steps aside, and we walk past him and out of the room.
My mind races over everything that’s happened. I replay every piece of the puzzle, trying to find a clue that might lead to my exoneration.
Haywood turns to me as we enter the courthouse. “The arraignment is pretty straightforward. The judge will read the charges against you, ask for your plea, and then decide on bail.”
“Bail?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers. “It’s possible, but it depends on several factors—the seriousness of the charges, your prior record, ties to the community, and risk of flight.”
“I have no prior record,” I tell him earnestly. “And no reason to run.”
The lie tastes like acid on my tongue.
I have the ultimate reason to run. To Switzerland. To regain my livelihood.
But that’s out of the question now. I’m not a criminal, and I won’t break the law by running.
“Your lack of criminal history, not to mention your connection to the community through your work, will certainly help your case.”
As we approach the courtroom, a wave of fear washes over me. This is it. The start of the battle to save my life from a wrongful conviction.
“In there”—Haywood points at the imposing wooden doors—“you are not just Dr. Jason Lansing. You are my client, and I am here to protect you. Trust me, listen to me, and we will get through this together.”
With a deep breath, I nod. We enter the courtroom, and a collective wave of gazes falls on me.
Haywood leans in close, talking quietly so only I can hear. “Stand tall, Jason. Don’t give them anything to read into.”
I follow his advice as best as I can, taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart.
“All rise,” a court officer declares as a door on one side of the room opens.
I stand along with everyone else in the room as the judge, an elderly man with a stern expression and a shock of white hair, enters and takes his seat at the high bench.
“Be seated,” he announces.
We settle back into our chairs. The hushed murmur of conversation fades away, replaced by a palpable tension in the air.
“Case number 47C-2021, the People versus Jason Lansing,” the court clerk reads out.
Haywood nudges me gently. “Stand up.”
I follow his command, trying to keep my face neutral as I rise.
A young lady stands on the prosecution side. “Layne Vandernash for the people, your honor.”
“Blake Haywood for the defendant,” Haywood says.
“Dr. Lansing has been charged with felony assault and battery,” the judge says. “How does your client plead, Mr. Haywood?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor. As Dr. Lansing is a respected member of the community with no prior record, we ask that he be released on his own recognizance.”
“Ms. Vandernash?”
“The complaint against Dr. Lansing is severe,” she says, “but given that this is his first offense, the people won’t object to bail set at one hundred thousand dollars.”
I gulp. I have the money, but damn.
The judge nods. “I agree with the people, though a hundred thousand is high. Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars.”
The judge’s gavel cracks like a gunshot, and as they move on to the next case, I stand there frozen, my fate now tangled in a system that doesn’t know me, doesn’t care, and might just swallow me whole.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Angie
“You going to answer me?” Tabitha says. “Ralph must have wanted to see you for some reason.”
Yeah. He wanted me to fuck him in his hospital bed in order to drop the charges against Jason.
“School stuff,” I lie.
Tabitha shakes her head. “We haven’t known each other long, but you’re a terrible liar, Ange.”
God, she’s so much like Sage. How many times have I heard my twin sister say those exact same words to me?
I close my eyes, take a deep breath in. “It’s a freaking long story, Tabitha. Let’s just say he’s a fucking dick. I was right the first time, and I hope you’re over your little crush on him.”
“I am.” She frowns. “But he looks so pathetic.”
“Exactly. Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic. I mean, what kind of guy lets another guy do that to him? Didn’t his father ever teach him how to fight?”
I don’t particularly like the words coming out of my mouth. I’m usually a much more empathetic person. No one deserves to be beaten up like that.
Except Ralph does.
Ralph definitely does.
He’s falsely accusing Jason, and right now Jason is rotting in a jail cell at the police station. I hope the attorney has gotten to him.
I should be there at the station, demanding answers. But what would I even say? That they have the wrong guy? That Jason wouldn’t hurt anyone? The system doesn’t care about gut feelings, about love, about the truth hidden beneath all the lies. It cares about evidence, and right now, it feels like the world is against the man I love.
I take a deep breath. Jason needs me to be strong. He needs me to fight. I don’t know how—not yet—but I will. Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I’m not letting him go down for something he didn’t do.
“I don’t know,” Tabitha is saying. “Ralph was roughed up pretty badly. Maybe it was more than one person. Or maybe he didn’t have a dad growing up. Maybe no one taught him how to fight. Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I resist the eye roll.
Tabitha is a nice girl. She just doesn’t want to admit that Ralph got his ass kicked because she thought she liked him.
But part of her knows he’s an ass. We’ve had this conversation.
I sigh. “Okay, Tabitha, I lied.”
“Oh?”
“He didn’t want to see me about school stuff.”
“Shocking,” she says dryly.
I draw in a deep breath. “You really want to know what happened?”
“Well, yeah.”
“He literally wanted me to fuck him. He had a great big old boner, and he wanted me to climb on top of him and fuck him in his hospital bed.”
She doesn’t say anything.
Her jaw doesn’t drop. She doesn’t go rigid or anything.
Wouldn’t most people after I just told them that?
Finally she speaks. “Angie, don’t lie to me.”
I laugh. Seriously, let out a guffaw. “That’s not a lie. You can go ask him if you want, though we all know he’s a big liar, so…”
That’s all I can say to her. Jason is still her professor, and he may not want me throwing the information around that he’s been arrested for the attack on Ralph.
I can’t believe I ever thought he might be guilty.
I love Jason. I know him. Or at least I thought I did. But when the words assault and arrested first reached me, my brain hesitated. Not because I believe he’s capable of something so awful, but because the world teaches us to doubt, to wonder if we ever truly know anyone.
And that hesitation? That fleeting moment where my mind wavered? It feels like a betrayal.
I want to shake it off, pretend it never happened, but it lingers like a stain I can’t scrub away. Jason is sitting in a holding cell right now, scared, alone, probably wondering if I truly believe he’s innocent.
I press my hands against my temples, trying to will the guilt away, but it doesn’t budge. I know he’s innocent. I know it.
I tent my fingers in front of my nose, take another deep breath. “Tabitha, I can’t make you believe me. And I’m sorry I lied at first. Of course Ralph didn’t want to see me about school stuff. He could’ve asked anybody about school stuff. Eli, for one, who is much more of an academic than I am, and he was there earlier. So I’m sorry. Sorry I lied. I lied because the truth was disgusting and I didn’t want to repeat it. But it is the truth. He wanted me to screw him.”
She bites her lip. “Damn. He must have it bad for you.”
“I don’t know.” I frown. “I honestly don’t get that vibe from him.”
“He tried to kiss you at your place. You told me.”
“He did. And it shocked the heck out of me because I didn’t get that vibe from him, like I said.”
She scrunches her forehead. “What do you mean that vibe?”
“You know.” I lay a hand over my heart. “When you feel something for someone, and you have that feeling they feel something back. Or if you don’t feel something for someone, but you get that vibe from them that they feel more for you than you want them to.”
She frowns. “I’m notoriously bad at telling when someone likes me. For example, you keep telling me Eli likes me, and I don’t get that vibe at all.”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. My cousin Ava always says I’m intuitive.”
“Your cousin Ava?”
“Did I tell you about her? I can’t remember. She’s a baker, lives at home in Snow Creek. Doesn’t take any of our family’s money.”
She widens her eyes. “What? Why would she do that?”
“She’s the only one of us who doesn’t. We all respect her for it, but we also kind of think she’s nuts.” I sigh. “Anyway, she’s very intuitive. Reads tarot cards all the time. Not that I really believe in that stuff, but it’s amazing how accurate she actually is. She says the cards don’t actually tell the future. It’s more that they allow you to realign your way of thinking, which requires some good intuition. And she always said I had a lot of that. Maybe I do. Because I do usually get a vibe when someone’s interested in me, whether I return the feeling or not.” I cross my arms. “And I’m good at telling when a guy is a creep, too. Got that the first time I ever laid eyes on Ralph.”
“I wish I had some of that intuition,” she says. “I seriously get nothing from Eli, and I thought I was kind of getting something from Ralph. But maybe that’s just because I was attracted to him.” She shakes her head. “I’ve kind of always had a thing for older guys. My best friend in college, Toby, had a daddy complex, but that’s ridiculous for me, because I have a great relationship with my dad.”
“Trust me, I totally get the vibe from Eli toward you. I really like him. As a friend, of course.”
“I don’t know… I’m kind of partial to blond men.”
Jason is dark-haired. Most of my family is dark-haired. The only exceptions are my father, my brother Henry, and my cousins Dale and Donny—all blond. And none of them have any actual Steel blood.
Though I didn’t mean for this conversation to become about Tabitha’s love interest, I’m glad it’s taken a turn. The less time I have to talk about Ralph and what he asked of me, the better.
“There’s nothing wrong with a preference, Tabitha,” I say, offering her a smile. “We all have them.”
She nods, pushing a strand of her dirty-blond hair behind her ear. “I guess so. It just feels so weird, you know? Like I’m choosing a guy based on his hair color.”
“Hey, we’re all a bit shallow, right?” I pat her on the shoulder. “We like what we like.”
She lets out a chuckle, and for the first time today, I feel some of the tension ease.
Despite the joking, my mind still hovers on Jason alone in his cell.
“I need to get going,” I tell Tabitha. “I’ve cut classes yesterday and today. I need to check the school website to see what I missed and get caught up.”
“Yeah, okay. You want to get a drink later?”
A drink? I could use several, but I have to be available for Jason. Mr. Haywood has probably contacted him by now, but more than likely he won’t be arraigned until tomorrow.
“I don’t think so,” I tell Tabitha, “but thanks. Maybe sometime this weekend.”
“I’ll hold you to that, bestie.” She grins as we part ways.
I drive back to my townhome, and I cuddle with Tillie on my couch, my books open in front of me. I’m not sure how much time passes when my doorbell rings.
I look through the peephole and gasp.
Chapter Thirty
Jason
She looks beautiful, as always.
“Jason!” Angie gasps. “You got out already?”
“Thanks to the attorney you sent.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Angie. My life is in your hands, isn’t it?”
Her eyes well up, but she quickly blinks away the tears. She opens the door wider. I step inside, feeling an immediate rush of relief.
“Sit,” she mutters, gesturing toward the couch. “You look like you need a drink.”
“Do I?” I say dryly. “Can’t imagine why.”
She doesn’t smile back at me. Instead she heads into the kitchen and returns with two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. She pours us both a drink and hands one to me.
I swirl the amber liquid in the glass, releasing its smoky aroma.
“Thank you.” I raise the glass to my lips and take a long sip. The burn of the whiskey is a welcome distraction from the chaos in my mind.
“Are you okay?” Angie asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I shrug, looking down at my drink. “I don’t know. I’m out of jail for now, but the charges are serious.”
Angie nods and sets her glass down on the coffee table. She shifts closer to me on the couch, places a comforting hand on my arm. “You didn’t do it. We’re going to prove your innocence.”
For an instant, I let myself believe her words, to believe in the possibility that everything might turn out okay.
