Page 63 of Right Number, Wrong Man
My mouth goes dry. I wondered if she’d bring up the prank.
Tears stream down her cheeks, glittering in the moon’s pale shine. “You don’t get how embarrassing this is! Look at me! I’m pathetic!” she sobs.
“You’re not pathe?—”
“I don’t want your pity!” Hailey grits out. “Youbrokeme. Every shrink I went to told me my arachnophobia can’t be cured.”
My pulse pauses a beat. The truth presses against the underside of my skin like a hot blade, and I’m scared the wound in my chest will split open to spill every secret I’ve been hiding.
She gives a wry laugh. “Before the prank, I thought you were just a generic, arrogant asshole because you always ignored me. But when the principal told meyouput those spiders in my locker, I knew I’d hate you until the day I die!”
I already know Hailey hates me but hearing her say itwith such venom snaps something inside me. Words rise in my throat. I can’t stop myself.
“It wasn’t me! It was Mike!”
Her breath catches. “The prank—Mike? Then why did you say it was you?”
“If the truth got known, Mike would’ve gotten expelled from school and Dad would’ve kicked him out of the house. He begged me to help him. I took the blame because my record was clean and I’d only get detention. But my brother’s dead now. I don’t need to be his scapegoat anymore.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? It’s not like Mike can defend himself.”
I deflate. She’s right. I got no proof.
“Few minutes ago, you watched me save a spider. Do you really think I’d put hundreds of ‘em in a jar in your locker to get trampled by panicked students?” I rub a hand along my beard. “Listen, I’m not after forgiveness. I told you because you deserve the truth and that’s exactly what I gave you. As much as I want to make you believe me, I can’t. It’s up to you.”
Hailey’s eyes dull and her arms drop. Her expression is unreadable. Blank. She stares through me like she’s a million miles away.
My stomach churns. Did I make a huge mistake by telling her?
“I want to go home,” she mumbles and my heart sinks. “Take me home now, please.”
23
HAILEY
“IseverythingI know about Colton Walker wrong?” I whine, swirling a metal straw through my virgin raspberry daiquiri.
Slow jazz drifts from crackling speakers around the bar. It fits my broody mood and so does the dim lighting, accurately visualizing the cloud hanging over my head since Sunday.
Andrea leans on the bar top, frowning. She presses a hand to my forehead and her gold bracelet dangles against the tip of my nose. “Hmm, you don’t have a fever. Wait, that must mean—” Her eyes narrow impishly. “The body snatchers got my best friend! Where is the real Hailey Walker?”
I playfully slap her hand away. “Great, I make the drive into Burtonville to get in-person moral support from you, and you mock me. Also, please don’t call me that! I’ve already filed the petition to change my last name back to my maiden name.”
“Well, I’m sorry grumpy face. But I’m here to listen to your woes, aren’t I?” She laughs.
“No,Iam sorry and I shouldn’t let my frustrations out on you. I’m just so overwhelmed. Confused. It’s like the rug was pulled from under my feet and I’m free falling.”
Andrea nods. “I knew things were serious when you texted me this morning. The last time you asked to meet in this run-down watering hole was when you sent that scathing comment about your old boss’s golf-themed tie to your work group chat instead of me.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me, please. My embarrassment has aged like milk out of the fridge.”
“That was… eight years ago? I’m surprised this bar is still in business. It was never super popular, but I remember it being a little more crowded thanthis.” She gestures at the two other patrons.
An old man occupies a corner table, nursing a beer while muttering to himself. In the center of the room sits a guy with combed back, black hair, reading an old, leather-bound book.
His dark eyes rise over the edge of the cover, meeting mine through his thick-rimmed glasses, and he smirks. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Objectively, he’s handsome with a square jaw and a straight nose, but I can’t bring myself to smile back.
I turn to Andrea, still feeling his gaze like a blade scraping across my spine. He’s probably just socially awkward, but thanks to the serial killer stuff on the news and my overconsumption of horror movies, I suspect great evil in everyone.
