O’Connor steps aside but not before warning me. “Go slow. Watch your step.”
Glass crunches under the toes of my heels.
My skin itches when I reach the door and I whip my gaze to find Carson smirking at me. “Funny how I’m the only one in cuffs after what you did. Maybe I should tell them, huh?”
I think I’m going to be sick.
Roman curves around me, shielding my body from Carson, but he can’t block his words. “Does he know?” Carson shouts. “Does he know you’re a frigid little bitch?”
Roman spins, his fist smashing into Carson’s face. He cries out, crumbling against the sidewalk and screaming assault but O’Connor just flicks his chin at the police car. “Get him out of here. Now.”
O’Connor turns back to us and half of me expects him to take out his cuffs and slap them on me right here and now, but he just meets Roman’s gaze. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.”
Roman nods and O’Connor holds the broken door open and steps aside. “I’ll give you a minute, then I need to take your statement.”
Roman’s hand settles on my shoulder. “Can it wait till morning? You’ve caught the fucker and it’s been a long night.”
O’Connor dips his chin. “Yeah, alright. Swing by the station first thing.”
“Thanks, man.”
O’Connor ducks outside, leaving Roman and me to step into the trashed coffee shop. My lungs fight for oxygen inside my chest. Short, shallow rattles of air.
I thought the outside was bad.
Inside, the light shades I hung sway, slashes cut through the material casting haunting shadows on the pure destruction below. My hand comes up to my mouth as I take in the damage.
Broken pieces of the tables Roman and I put together are strewn across the room, the counter dented like someone launched them into the wood. Dark red paint mars every surface, a sick adults version of a toddler with a crayon.
And my wall of T-shirts… A sob slips from my lips, and I lean back against Roman’s chest. RobfuckingCarson. He’s taken a knife to the T-shirts, long slices cutting through the soft cotton.
It’s ruined. Everything I built, all those hours I spent painting and decorating and dreaming. Gone.
Roman curls his arm around my waist. “I’ll kill him for this.”
I tear away from him. “No. No.” Panic flares in my chest. This is what Roman’s dad was talking about. I’m going to drag Roman down with me. “He’s already been arrested, just leave it be.” I swallow shards of glass and stare at the scratched floorboards before finally looking up at Roman. “This— It’s my fault anyway.”
Roman steps towards me. Strong. Firm. “None of this is your fault, Lola.” He tries to take my hands, but I let them hang limply in his as I shake my head.
“That’s the thing though, it really fucking is.” I pull away and turn my back on him. The T-shirts hang in tatters in front of meand I curl in on myself, hugging my arms to my chest against the sudden cold that chills my skin. “Six years ago, going off with Carson after we kissed, wasn’t the only stupid thing I did.”
“Lola…”
I screw my eyes shut at the softness in his voice. “Just, listen. Please.” When he doesn’t say anything else I breathe against the band around my chest. “I wasn’t the first person he drugged, and I wasn’t going to be the last. And I hated that.” I shake my head and spin around to face Roman. “I hated how un-fucking-fair it was that Rob Carsonrapedme and was going to get away with it.”
Roman’s hands clench into fists by his side. The edges of his jaw stand in sharp relief beneath his trimmed beard but he stays quiet. And somehow, I find the nerve to carry on, to tell him the worst thing I ever did.
“I went to one of the other biker kids at school and I bought a load of GHB off him. Then I snuck into Carson’s trailer, planted the drugs, and called in an anonymous tip. It was the most stupid, reckless thing I’ve ever done. And do you know the worst part? I don’t even regret it.” The laugh that slips out is half crazed, more of a sob than anything else.
I wave my hand around the carnage of the shop. “Because of that night, Rob did this. Because of that night, your father is trying to blackmail me into giving you up. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who told Carson what I did, and I still don’t regret it.” I hold my arms out wide as I look at Roman. “So, what kind of person does that make me?”
Roman’s steady gaze meets mine. “A fearless one.”
I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “I broke the law, like actually broke it. We’re not just talking about trespassing or underage drinking. I framed a person, Roman.” The shame I’ve been carrying drapes around me like a cloak, heavy and dark.
I’m glad Carson went to prison, and I may not regret it, but I’ve never forgiven myself for planting those drugs. Never managed to run away from that constant fear that someone would find out. That I’d pay for what I did.
Roman keeps his eyes on mine. “I know,” he says.
