Page 107 of Heart of Thorns

Well… yeah. I point to his bandaged hand. “What happened?”

“Got into a disagreement with my brother.” He tugs aside the part around his knuckles, revealing deep-purple bruises. “Our parents raised us to deal with that sort of shit ourselves and notcomplain, which generally results in punching each other a few times. I didn’t want Coach spotting it and benching me, so…”

“Jeez.” I stare at him. “That kind of makes me glad I’m an only child.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. So, did you need something?”

“Nah. See you tomorrow, man.”

He leaves, and my shoulders drop. That was a fail. I wassurehe was going to be added to the list of suspects, but his grumpy mood was because he thought his performance was subpar.

I fish out my phone, automatically checking for texts from Briar.

Nothing.

Her expression from when I kicked her out floats in front of my eyes, only to be replaced with the flash of hurt right before I kissed her on the field.

Fuck. She’s still helping me, and what am I doing?

Not a lot, that’s for sure.

I open my conversation thread with Rhys.

Me

Meet me at your car.

Rhys

10-4, Captain.

I roll my eyes. He’s been picking up more and more television cop show lingo. I have no idea if police actually say half the things that come out of his mouth. I follow in the same direction Jack went and step out into the cold evening.

The parking lot is mostly empty, and I zip up my jacket on the way to Rhys’s car. He comes from another exit. He remote starts it, then unlocks it for me, and I climb in fast.

The cold weather makes my knee ache. I know it’s probably nothing compared to Briar’s, and another freaking pang goes through my chest.

“What did Jack say?” Rhys practically falls into the driver’s seat.

“He showed me his bruised knuckles and told me some story about solving problems with his brother with his fists.” I sigh. “So, we’re nowhere.”

Rhys points to the glove box. I open it and take out the small notepad we’ve been using for our list. It has everyone who we saw from the fight on one side, then everyoneelseon the other. If they have an alibi for not being at the fight, they got crossed out.

If we saw them after the fire started—like, for example, Aaron—they get crossed out.

“There’s got to be a way to narrow this down,” I say, drawing a line through Jack’s name.

Rhys talked to Willow, Aaron’s girl, who told us a few other guys she and Aaron went with. And, when pressed, she insisted that they were with them the whole time leading up to the fire.

“I don’t like that we haven’t crossed out Ben’s name,” Rhys says. “Let’s work on him.”

I glare down at the list. “He’d see straight through me if I question him, and you probably blew your cover, too.”

He hums, thinking it over. I buckle my seat belt, and he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Okay,” he finally says, when we’re nearly home. “He’s besties with Stephen McDowell.”

“Right…”

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