Page 124 of Wait For It

The last time I stepped foot in a shower, Killian had been there. His scent had lingered on my skin as I faced Tristan, comforting me—making me believe I wasn’t fighting alone.

Now, he was completely gone. I’d watched as the last traces of him swirled around the drain before disappearing completely.

And yet, I still didn’t know why Morgan had come.

“I want to go back to bed now,” I grumbled hoarsely, trying not to look at my reflection in the mirror. I was no longerso goddamned beautiful.

I was nothing more than an empty shell of my former self.

Dark shadows rimmed my lower lashes, almost identical to the necklace of bruising around my throat. My green eyes had a haunted look about them. I didn’t remember much of what happened in Tristan’s office other than the sharp, metallic tang of blood from biting down on my tongue to keep from screaming.

She went silent for a moment, pursing her lips as she looped the elastic around the end of my hair. “Tristan scheduled a press conference for noon at the church. It’s not just the local affiliates, either. From what I understand, the major networks have flown in as well.”

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, before slipping off the stool to crouch in front of the toilet, expelling what little food and water I’d taken in over the past several days.

Morgan knelt beside me, her hand moving in small circles between my shoulder blades. “Are you?” she asked. “I mean, do you think you might be pregnant?”

You’ll be the woman who carries my babies, slugger…

Sweat. Saliva. Tears. They all looked the same as they fell against the toilet seat.

“I’m still a virgin,” I admitted, squeezing my eyes shut against the sudden bloom of pain in my chest. I’d been so close to real happiness. To being loved and cherished.

I stood up and rinsed my mouth before turning back to face her. She was still kneeling against the tile, her mouth slack. “But I thought—”

“Brad was going to rape me. I didn’t stop to think about the repercussions—I just said it. How could I have been so stupid? I should have let—”

Morgan shook her head. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. This is all my fault, Ari. I pushed you on Killian, thinking it would save you from this, but I only made things worse.”

“I love him.” I winced and pressed the heel of my hand over my heart. The physical wounds on my body would heal, but the emotional trauma would linger. Every time I looked in the mirror, I’d see the coward who gave up an innocent man.

Her expression sharpened. “Then don’t do this—don’t go through with it. Killian will go to jail—lose his career—everything!”

I looked down, pleading with my eyes, needing her to understand why I was making this impossible decision. “I know, but Tristan has people watching him. He talked about—” I cleared my throat, determined not to cry.

“He talked about how easy it would be to make someone’s death look like an accident. From hacking the car’s computer to running someone down as they’re crossing the street. You know as well as I do what he’s capable of. This was the only way I could save him.”

Morgan’s forehead creased, pulling her eyebrows together. “What if there was another way?”

“There’s not,” I said, having spent the last forty-eight hours exhausting every option. “I’m damned either way. Look, I’ve accepted that I’ve lost him forever, but at least this way he gets a chance to move on someday.”

She glanced down at her watch. “And is that what you want—for him to move on?”

“I just want him to be safe. If I knew of another way—one where he didn’t get killed, go to jail, or lose baseball—” I sucked in a ragged breath, squeezing my fists until my fingernails dug into my palms. “I’d do it, but there’s nothing.”

“We’ve still got time,” Morgan responded cryptically before standing up to lead me back into my room. Instead of letting me climb back into bed, she shut off the lights and dragged me over toward the door.

My breath caught as I stumbled over a shoe lying on the floor. “Morgan—what are you doing?”

After tapping her index finger lightly against the wood three times, she clapped a hand over my mouth, her eyes suddenly glossy. “Do not speak. Do not scream. Nod if you understand.”

I shook my head, my nostrils flaring with short bursts of air as I gripped her arms. No one had ever said I couldn’t leave my room, but the lock on the outside of the door had implicitly implied I was a prisoner.

“Listen to me,” she whispered. “I was supposed to be in the car that night. Tristan set the entire thing up, knowing I was the only one who drove the convertible. You were never the target. I was. And I need you to trust me right now, okay?”

The handle turned, but the hallway was completely dark. A towering figure leaned in and my heart pinged against my ribcage when Morgan pushed me into his waiting arms. I knew it was a man, I could tell by the build, but his identity was a mystery.

I didn’t realize I was whimpering until his palm moved over my mouth, where Morgan’s had been just moments before. “Fifteen minutes,” he hissed.

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