Page 109 of Ruthless Intent

“I’ll just go to the laundry room and put this in the washing machine.” She disappears through a door at the opposite end of the room.

“Word of advice, Ashley,” he says when she’s gone. “Heather is a psychologist. She works with children, and is exceptionally good at getting the truth out of people.”

“What’s the advice?”

“Don’t lie to her.”

“Why would I lie?”

His smile is faint. “That’s what we’ve been asking ourselves for a long time.”

My cheeks heat up. I deserve that.

“I’m sorry.” He sets his cup down. “But you have to understand how hard this is. To us, you’re the reason we lost our son. I know Zain says he’s forgiven you, and …” his eyes dip to the ring on my finger, “something is clearly happening between the two of you. But until we know the reasons behind why he’s forgiven you so easily, and why you did what you did, it’s going to be hard for us to move forward.”

“I know.” My voice is little more than a whisper. “I talked to Heather about it a little, and I wish I could make sense of it.”

“What about the wedding ring?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Wedding rings aren’t nothing. You’re either married and cheating on your husband with my son, or?—”

“I think I’d rather wait for Zain to be here before I talk about that.”

He holds my gaze for a second longer than I find comfortable, then nods. “I understand, and I’ll ask my wife to respect that.”

He leaves the room shortly after, and I’m left alone for a few minutes. My head hurts, and I move closer to the table, so I can prop my elbow on it and rest my chin on my palm. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on my breathing, and try to push past the pain.

The sick feeling hasn’t left, and nausea is an acidic maelstrom churning around my stomach. I’m sure part of it is from lack of sleep, the rest from stress. I’m not even going to lie about that to myself.

It’s been one thing after another from almost the moment I returned to town. From Zain confronting me at Jason’s grave, to his threats and promises to exact revenge if I don’t comply with his wishes, I haven’t had a second to stop and think.

Which I’m sure has been his intention.

Keep me off-balance and with as little time to think and assess as possible.

The same way he must have felt during his interrogation.

I swallow against the lump in my throat.

How can I ever make up for what happened? Am I even at fault?

It doesn’t matter that I watched the video of myself denying that Zain had a knife, it doesn’t matter that the memory unlocked afterward. When I stood on the stand and told the world that he’d done it, I believed it. I wasn’t lying … and yet, I was.

How is that even possible? And how can I find a way to make him understand?

“Ashley?” Heather’s voice is soft, but it still makes me jump.

“I’m sorry. I think everything is catching up with me.”

“I’d suggest a nap, but you should probably wait a little longer after hitting your head. I can get you some painkillers. Do you have a headache?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

She disappears again, and returns a few minutes later. Filling a glass with water, she hands it and two little white pills to me.

“It’s just Tylenol,” she says when I hesitate. “I can show you the bottle if you want?”

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