Page 183 of Twisted Trails
He drops his gaze to his shoes, and when he looks up again, there’s still that strange glint in his eyes.
What is going on with him today?
“What you said earlier about Isla accusing Payne just to get him kicked off the circuit…” Isaac says slowly, “… do you believe that?”
I cross my arms tighter across my chest, like that might keep everything from spilling out. “Mason didn’t do it. They were a couple, and everything they did was consensual.”
My voice is steady. I know it is.
Ineedit to be.
“I know they were together,” he mutters. “For a while, yeah, but there can be rape in relationships too. Just because they’re together doesn’t mean her body is his to use as he pleases.”
Wait.
Hebelieves her.
He really,trulythinks Mason did it?
My breath shortens with a sick twist of realization in my gut. If he believes her, it means he didn’t put her up to lie about it.
Then why the fuck did she do it?
“He didn’t rape her.” I swallow hard, shaking my head. “Why don’t you ask him what happened? If you’re unsure, if any part of you thinks this might not be what you’ve been told,talk to him.”
He shrugs, something almost helpless in the motion. “I can’t talk to that asshole. If she’s telling the truth, I might kill him. And if he is…”
“If he is, whichhe is…” I snap, “… then your sister ruined a man’s life. Destroyed his reputation. Maybe to help you win, or maybe just because she fucking could.”
Isaac frowns down at the ground again, so I go on with my tirade.
“You want to hear it from me? Fine. He loved her and wanted to take things slow. They never even slept together, and then, bam, just when he signs the new contract, lines up the sponsors, and has a shot at winning again, she accuses him of rape, and he loses everything overnight.”
Silence stretches between us, and we’re both breathing too fast. The trees rustle above us like they’re trying to fill the space, but all I can hear is my own pulse. It’s getting darker by the second, the porch lights casting just enough glow to see, and the strain around his eyes deepens, but I still can’t tell which way his thoughts are tilting.
Then he says, quietly, “Okay.”
Okay?
Before I can even process that one stupid word, he adds, “And what was that about Delacroix?”
“Are you serious right now?” I let out a dry laugh. “You poke at him on purpose. Try to push him over the edge in the hopes that he swings like I did and gets kicked out, so you can finally win an overall again. It’s not like you’ve gotten one since he started racing.”
“What the fuck?That’s not true,” he snaps. “I just hate the dickhead because he talks shit about my sister.”
“He doesn’t.”
At least not with anyone but us.
“Oh yeah? He’s saying he fucked her, and that she’s easy. That kind of shit.”
“God,no.” My head jerks back. “He hasneversaid that. Luchatesyour sister. He wouldn’t brag about her. Andtrust me, he didn’t sleep with her.” I have to suppress a shudder. “Who the hell told you that?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.
“Isla,” I mutter.
Fucking bitch.
