But Bethany ain’t.
My stomach lurches so violently I have to grab the dock railing to keep from falling.
“No,” I whisper.
The water is dark now. Too dark. Nothing.
“Bethany?” I call, louder this time, and my voice cracks.
Nothing answers.
Not from the trees. Not from the water. Just the steady, wrong hush of Herrington Lake swallowing sound.
My heart slams against my ribs because I know two things at once.
I didn’t kill her.
And no one is going to believe that.
Chapter 32
Oaks
I know something’s wrong before she says a word.
I’m halfway up the gravel path from the lower docks when I see her running toward me. Hair wild. Face pale. Eyes too wide. She ain’t dramatic. She ain’t putting on a show. She looks like somebody grabbed her by the spine and shook her hard enough to rattle her bones.
Shock.
That’s worse than tears.
“Brittany,” I bark, closing the distance fast. “What happened?”
She stops in front of me like she hit a wall, chest heaving. There’s a red handprint across her cheek and her hair’s tangled like someone fisted it. She swallows hard, like she’s trying not to throw up.
“Bethany,” she says.
My stomach drops straight through the soles of my boots.
“What about her,” I demand, and my voice comes out low and controlled because losing control won’t fix shit.
“She came at me,” Brittany says, words tumbling out like she’s scared they’ll get stuck in her throat. “Down by the water.”
I see red. Fucking bitch.
“Came at you how?” I ask through my teeth.
“She shoved me. Tried to knock me into the lake. Grabbed my hair. She slapped the shit outta me.” Brittany’s voice shakes but she keeps going. “She called me trash. I told her to back off. She wouldn’t.”
I can see it without trying. Bethany calm and cold until she ain’t. I’ve watched that switch flip before, watched her smile while she pushed a knife in.
“What did you do?” I ask, and I hate how steady I sound, like I’m asking about inventory when I want to kill a bitch.
“I shoved her back,” Brittany says. Her hands tremble at her sides. “She came again. I grabbed a board.”
My pulse spikes.
“You hit her?” I ask, amused, a bit proud.
