Page 17 of Royal
Later that day, Brysen came over.
Funny how I was the one always checking up on him, yet the roles had reversed in the past two days. He was scatterbrained, messy, a little immature, unfiltered, and had a wild personality, but he reminded me a lot of Jonathon with his big heart and humor. He had the same blond hair, too. Probably why I worried over him as much as I did.
He’s the one worrying overmenow.
“Want to order dinner in?” he asked, plopping on my couch and spreading out like he owned the place. “Pizza delivery or something? The press is waiting outside and they’ll pounce right when you step out of the house.”
“They’restillout there?”
“Uh huh. Probably just to ask about Beth, since you’re the one who worked closest to her.” His hazel eyes flickered to me. “Are the detectives still after you?”
“Yep.” I deeply inhaled before releasing it in a rush. “My alibi checked out, but the coroner placed the time of death around four in the morning. I left the hotel after three and came home alone, so there’s no one to corroborate my story.”
“Shit.” Brysen perked up. “Want me to lie and say I was here?”
“No, thanks.” A small bubble of panic filled my gut at the thought of him facing charges for making a false statement to the police. “I don’t want you lying for me and then getting in trouble for it later.”
“Those fuckers won’t know it’s a lie,” he said. “I got off work around four, so I could say I came here directly after and found you already asleep. If she died around then, that wouldn’t have given you enough time to dispose of the body and come home.”
“I appreciate it, B, but no.”
“Fine. If you change your mind, let me know. Kye is worried about you, too.” Brysen turned to his side and slid his hands under his head, watching me. “He hates being so far away.”
“Probably for the best Kye isn’t here,” I admitted, grabbing my phone and shaking my head at all the texts. I shouldn’t have been surprised at how thirsty people were for information, since I made my living off news stories, but whenIwas the one being harassed, it definitely put shit into perspective. “I don’t want him or Declan being dragged into this mess. It’s bad enough that you are.”
“Eh.” Brysen shrugged. “I don’t mind the attention. When Declan first came out by kissing Kyler in front of God and everybody, paparazzi and reporters were all over me, too, thinking I was banging them both.” He grinned. “Do you know how much dick I got for that? Guys were hitting me up, saying I must’ve been good in bed to nail someone like Declan Price.”
“But you didn’t nail him.”
“They didn’t know that.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I’m used to that look,” he sighed. “So, what’s going to happen now? Have the detectives told you anything else?”
“Yeah. They want me to come down to the station tomorrow morning. To talk.”
“Want to flee to Canada?”
I laughed at his joke, then stopped when I saw his serious expression. “B, no. I’m not fleeing the country. Guilty men run, and I’m not guilty.”
“I just want to know why they’re so set on it being you,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his face.
“Good question.”
I honestly had no idea.
But I’m probably about to find out.
