Page 48 of The Illicit Play
Just tell her. Maybe a good scare is exactly what she needs.
It’s tempting. Anything to warn her away from getting herself into that situation again has to be a good thing, right? And I told that police officer I would.
But my gut is telling me to play this gently, so I start with a shrug and murmur, “It collided with…”
“A fist,” she whispers.
“You remember?” My eyes jump back to hers, searching her gaze… wincing when the truth starts to sink in.
“What did I do last night?” Her voice wobbles, then catches. “How did you know where I was?”
Resting my shoulder on the doorframe, I study her carefully as I softly explain. “You called Wily’s phone… and he was in the bathroom, so I answered it. You didn’t know where you were, and…” I shake my head, hating the scene I walked in on.
No wonder I couldn’t fucking sleep last night.
The idea of what could have happened to her haunted me until the early hours. Even when I knew she was safe, that “what-if” game and all the scenarios that followed was a cruel companion as I tossed and turned in my bed.
“Blake, what you did last night was so fucking dangerous.” My voice is coming out like a low growl, but I can’t help it. “You just wandered into a stranger’s party. Alone. What the shit?”
“I…” She shakes her head, then winces like the move hurts.
“When I got there, some guy was trying to drag youdown the hallway. Blake, you couldn’t fight him off. You were trying, but you were too drugged up to defend yourself. He could have so easily…” I leave the sentence hanging, because I can’t bring myself to say the wordrape. It’s too brutal. Too abhorrent.
And besides, she knows what I’m saying. I can tell by the way her skin blanches and she takes a step back from me, hugging her wad of clothes like a teddy bear. Or maybe a stress ball. Her fingers dig into the fabric, her knuckles white as she shakes her head.
“Did I get roofied?” she rasps.
“Yes.” There’s no point trying to sugarcoat this shit. She did. And maybe she wouldn’t have if she’d had someone to keep an eye on her. If I’d been there, I would have watched her like a fucking hawk, but she knewno onein that house. She was easy prey.
Fuck!
“What made you do it?” I have to ask. I have to know why she’d be so reckless.
She shakes her head again, looking ready to puke.
Shit.
Letting out a soft sigh, I cup the back of my head and gaze at the floor. “Listen, I know you’re going through a tough time right now. I don’t know why you got kicked out of college, but it’s obviously messing with you and?—”
“What?” she snaps.
I glance up, taken aback by the venomous look on her face.
“Who told you that?”
“You did. Last night. When I was driving you to the hospital. After you’d puked your guts dry. You told me you?—”
“No, I didn’t,” she snaps. “I wouldn’t say something like that, because it’s not true.” Her cheeks flush, her words coming out in a quick staccato beat. “Like I would get kicked out of college. Are you insane? Don’t you know what a study nerd I am?”
“No.” I shake my head, trying to figure out how to play this. She’s so obviously lying. Her arguments are thin and soaked in panic. But I can’t just drop this, right? She’s going through something right now, and she needs help. She obviously doesn’t want to take this to her big brother, so maybe I can be the one to get her through it.
“You’re so full of shit, Grady.” Her voice is snappy.
My stomach tenses, but I stay calm. “Actually, I think it’s you who is struggling right now. I don’t know why you got kicked out?—”
“I didn’t get kicked out!”
I pause, taking in her flashing blue eyes and fierce expression.
