Page 157 of A Little Tempting

Satisfied, Officer McDonnell steps closer, his dark brows pulled low and his face tainted with unease. “Miss, place your hands behind your head.”

The metal is cold against my skin, the locks clicking into place one at a time, as the mumbo jumbo speech I’ve heard a hundred times on police shows distracts me. The Miranda warning. That’s what it is. Funny. I never thought I’d listen to those words in real life, but here we are.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Officer Dickwad’s smug face, and I can’t help but smile back as McDonnell puts his hand on the back of my head and helps me into the police car.

Smile while you can, asshole. You have no idea what’s coming to you.

41

REEVES

Cocaine. Fucking cocaine in the back of my car. I’ve never touched drugs. Never had the desire to, but it’s what the asshole planted. A tow truck came while I was on the phone with Dylan’s dad. Mav’s car was impounded so they could perform a more thorough search. They won’t find anything. Not unless my dad stashed more drugs or other illegal items somewhere else in the vehicle.

My. Fucking. Luck.

I’ve been at the police station with my friends for a few hours. They gave up comforting me a while ago. There isn’t anything left to say. I feel like shit, and I can’t stop replaying what happened. What I could’ve done. What I should’ve done. Without losing Dylan. Without losing my NHL career. Without letting my dad win. My knee bounces, and I stare at my hands.

“Breathe,” Mrs. Thorne orders.

I look up at Dylan’s mom and shake my head. “I can’t.”

“If everything you said is true?—”

“It is.”

She smiles. “I know. We already talked to the lawyer. She’s going to be fine.”

A girl like Dylan shouldn’t need a lawyer. None of my friends should. And I hate how this is what Everett was trying to protect them from. From me tainting their lives. Infecting them with the bullshit they have never and would never have dealt with if I’d kept my distance. And even though we’re good, and Everett isn’t acting like a dick anymore, which he proved firsthand by being willing to take the fall for planting the drugs in the car, it doesn’t make me feel any better.

Fan-fucking-tastic, Reeves.

You let your shitty childhood touch them anyway.

“Listen,” I mutter. “I really am sorry?—”

“Stop apologizing,” she orders. “This isn’t on you, Reeves. This is on your father.”

“If she hadn’t met me…” My voice trails off, and I hang my head in my hands.

“If she hadn’t met you, her soul would still be searching for the man who could make her whole again.”

My chest tightens, and I look up at her again. Dylan’s mom. Ashlyn Thorne. The resemblance is staggering. Same blonde hair. Same kind eyes. Same reassuring smile. It’s like I’m looking at my future, and, dammit, I want it. A future with Dylan. A life with Dylan. I want everything with Dylan.

“My daughter loves you, Reeves,” Mrs. Thorne murmurs, and the words hit me in the ribcage. “I see it. Her father sees it. Her brothers see it. I haven’t seen Dylan smile the way she does these days since before the accident.” Her lips lift, but she quickly sobers. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever see her smile the same way again. Without you, she’d still hate school. She’d still be a shy, anxious mess. She’d still do everything in her power to blend in and be invisible. What she did for you tonight? Do you know how much growth it demonstrated for a girl like her? How brave she had to be? Reeves, I’ve never been more proud of my daughter for standing up for someone—especially someone she loves—in my entire life.”

“Yeah, but the videos from the parking lot?—”

“If anything, they’ll prove your dad’s an asshole, and my daughter—and you—are completely innocent.” She squeezes my knee gently. “If you were arrested tonight, your NHL career would be ruined—even when we both know the charges wouldn’t have stuck—and your father would’ve won. What happened worked out for the best, and my daughter will be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

We’ll make sure of it.

I rub at the ache beneath my ribs. “I’m glad she has people she can rely on.”

“You both do, Oliver.”

Oliver.

Like taking a baseball bat to the chest, my lungs deflate, and my eyes burn.

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