Page 103 of Better Together

“I didn’t. I didn’t.” The feeble confession might as well have been steam, floating into the air and disappearing as if it had never existed.

“Don’t panic, Colt. If I’m the only one she told, then the accusations won’t go anywhere. If she told the police, that will be another story.”

“The police she left with? Yeah, I’m not holding out hope that she suddenly forgot to tell the police about her lies.”

He’d skipped breakfast, but acid bubbled in his gut. He was going to be sick, and something was bound to come up.

“Unless she’s claiming these texts were sent and received in this calendar year, I doubt there’s a way to retrieve evidence. Cellular service providers can’t retain text information that long. Not even a subpoena would help us.”

Help. Camille was still willing to help, so that was something. But what about Remi? She stood in the middle of the room, hugging her middle, and looking as sick as he felt.

“Now that she’s been vocal about her attacks, we can prepare to counter. Nothing is official yet, but–”

“But prepare for criminal charges? This is crazy. I wouldn’t do that.” Would his word be enough to save him? Probably not, but would her words be enough to condemn him?

“You’re innocent until proven guilty. If there isn’t any real proof, the charges could be dismissed. But remember, there are still no formal charges. Don’t panic yet.”

“Too late. She took the time to bring copies of forged text messages. She’s serious. She planned it out.” He clawed at the collar of his coat. His throat burned, and the edges of his vision were hazy as he kept his stare on Remi. She hadn’t moved.

“I’ll send you photos of the texts she brought. Read them carefully and let me know if any of the conversation is authentic.”

“I can already tell you it isn’t. I promise I’ve never texted with her. I don’t know her number. I never have.”

“You still need to be aware of any and all information we can get our hands on. Read them and come see me. You can set up the appointment with my assistant.”

Colt continued to stare at Remi. “You mean both of us, right?” They were a package deal now. At least, he hoped they were. Would she distance herself after this? He could already feel her pulling away, and the loss was cold and lonely.

He couldn’t face this without her. He’d crumble. He would fight for her until his dying breath, but fighting for himself alone was an impossible task.

“Colt, I said don’t worry until these things come to fruition. It’s a moot point if she decides to leave and forget it.”

“She won’t.” The things Camille warned of would come to the door of his home, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Tasha wasn’t afraid to attack her sister, and she sure wasn’t afraid of Camille if she threw a fit worthy of law enforcement intervention at her office.

“As your attorney, I need to know the truth. Did you do any of the things she claimed?”

“No. None of them. I barely know her.” He couldn’t be any more honest than that. He really didn’t know her other than what Mark and Brittany had told him. He’d seen the scene she’d made at Mark and Brittany’s wedding, but that was the extent of his knowledge of Tasha.

“Then we’ll fight this. I believe you, and her actions prove her instability. She won’t get away with this. Do you hear me?”

Colt shook his head. How could he believe her when no one knew for sure what would come of Tasha’s accusations? “I hear you, but…”

“Then read the messages and set up an appointment to meet with me. We’ll form a defense plan.”

Colt swallowed the slicing blades that lined his throat. “Right. We’ll do that.” His use of the collective was all wishful thinking. Remi might not want to be a part of this. She was innocent, and he wouldn’t bring her down with him.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks,” Remi whispered.

“Always happy to help.”

Colt’s own thanks died somewhere between his lungs and tongue. Camille ended the call, and he stood frozen, holding the phone that had relayed the end of his hope.

The office was cold and silent. Remi stared at the floor while she held his entire attention. Each vacant second hammered the nail into his coffin. Tasha wanted to bury him alive and take the perfect life he’d somehow stumbled into. And she would do it if he, Camille, and Remi didn’t figure out a way to stop her.

“Remi, say something. Please.”

She lifted her gaze to him, but her eyes didn’t reflect an ounce of recognition. He was losing her, and he couldn’t drag her back to the happy bubble of hope they’d been living in.

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