Page 60 of The Secrets of a Sin

What the hell is he talking about? And why does Charlotte look like she’s about to pass out?

“Stop fucking talking.” I warn him while gently running the pad of my thumb across her cheekbone. Her eyes look distant like she’s not even present in this moment. “Angel.” I whisper, hoping to draw her attention. “Look at me.” I order softly and notice a slight flutter in her eyes.

“I’m okay.” She whispers as her throat contracts from swallowing. Even though she says she’s okay, I don’t believe her. It comes naturally to me to notice when she is lying or telling the truth, so as I continue to rub her skin, I peer back over at Mr. Rossi.

“What the hell do those girls have to do with anything?” I snap.

“I don’t know yet.” He wipes at his lip. “But they aren’t innocent. And If I knew any better, they know a lot fucking more about Phoebe’s death than I do.”

* * *

Who were these fucking girls?

As we sit on his couch, both Charlotte and I conclude he isn’t Phoebe’s murderer. No matter how badly I wanted to believe he was. In my head, he was the only possible person that could have done it, but now, I’m not so sure.

“Start from the very beginning.” I lean forward on my knee while running a finger across my eyebrow.

On a deep sigh, Mr. Rossi rests a bag of peas over his upper nose and begins to confess. “My first hour, I had Phoebe in my class. She was quiet, kept to herself and I can honestly say that she didn’t show an ounce of interest in me in the beginning.” Even if he wasn’t her killer, I was still beyond livid that he would even think of having a relationship with a student. My fucking sister, to be exact. Though I wanted to strike him in the face again, I reluctantly let him go on. “But there was something about her I couldn’t ignore. I had this unexplainable pull towards her that no matter how hard I tried to avoid, I couldn’t. It made me feel sick and angry, but there was nothing I could do to turn it off.” He briefly closes his eyes as if trying to hold it together in front of us. “We started writing letters. It started innocent, then as time progressed, so did our love for one another. She was my sun, and I was her moon. Although it was forbidden, we knew we were destined to be together.”

I couldn’t meet his stare. I couldn’t look him in the face without seeing Phoebe in the reflection of his eyes. I didn’t fucking understand, but perhaps I was never meant to. In the short amount of time Phoebe was alive, he seemed to have made her happy. And falling in love was forever marked off her checklist because of him.

“So, you don’t know of anyone who would have ill-intent towards her?” Charlotte asks beside me.

“No, as I said, she was private. Kept to herself, but somewhere along the line, she began to change.”

Change?

“How so?”

“Just small things that I noticed. The way she talked. She was more irritable and hesitant with our relationship.”

Fuck.

He didn’t know.

Of course, he didn’t know.

Charlotte and I glance at each other, and he immediately notices the sadness that passes between us.

“What?” He questions, slightly irritated.

“Phoebe was pregnant.” I admit in a whisper.

Silence and grief fill the air around us. You can almost hear the pain in his every breath as he begins to process what I just confessed. Then, suddenly, the bag of ice on his forehead is thrown against the wall, and it shatters on impact.

“How did you find out?” He asks a little too calmly as his eyes brim with heavy tears that are about ready to fall.

“The coroner's office called me and told me she was eight weeks pregnant when she died.” My head drops as the anger from the call resurfaces, but like she knows I need soothing, Charlotte reaches for my hand.

“Fuck!” Mr. Rossi roars as Charlotte squeezes my hand. The agonizing pain in his howl reverberates through my hollow bones and even pierces away at my heart. Just from that, I knew his suffering was genuine. He was experiencing the same fucking torture as I was, if not more.

“She didn’t kill herself. She wouldn’t have, not while knowing she was carrying your child.” I go on.

“I didn’t fucking murder her, Arsen!” He snarls with venom laced in his words.

“We know you didn’t.” Charlotte responds in hopes of calming him. “We know you didn’t kill her.”

He immediately rises to his feet, with fury in his hasty movements. “Then who did it? Who the fuck would kill Phoebe?”

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