“I... I think I can do that. But, why me?” I nodded toward Clay, unable to bring myself to address him directly. “I wasn’t following the case very closely, but didn’t Clay testify. Why would my story persuade people when his didn’t?”
With a sigh, Logan moved closer to Clay, making it very obvious that they were holding hands under the table.
“It’s not that people don’t believe Clay, but one person’s claims are easy to dispute. Multiple people making the same accusations are harder to ignore. Your story would add weight to our argument.”
There was only laughter on the wind now. All the children in the distance were happy.
I prayed they would always stay that way.
“And what about last night? Someone tried to kill me before I was even officially working with you. They’ll try again. Especially, if I agree to be a witness.”
“Of course, we won’t just leave you on your own,” Logan quickly assured me. “We’ll protect you. There are a few otherwitnesses we’re reaching out to as well as you, so we’re arranging a safe house. It should be?—”
He was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. Upon checking the number on the screen, a frown pulled at his brow. Raising his finger to ask both Clay and I for a moment of silence, he answered.
“Sebastian? What’s up? More issues with the lawyer?”
The person on the other end of the line didn’t speak loud enough for me to hear, but whatever they said made Logan upset enough that he stood from the table.
“I’m glad the new lawyer is fine, but what... hold on. What do you mean they aren’t going to... They can’t do that. Wait. Just wait. I’ll... I’ll see what I can do.”
When he hung up the phone, he looked at Clay and I with an unreadable expression. There was no telling what was going through his head, but stress lines creased the skin around his eyes and instantly made him look ten years older.
“I need to make some calls. You two wait here until I get back.”
With that said, he wandered away from the picnic table, already dialing another number into his phone.
Clay and I were left alone together, with nothing but the distant laughter of children to break the silence between us.
I nervously cleared my throat. My voice had a tendency to crack whenever I was stressed, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself.
“Hey, Clay. Listen. I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean?—”
My therapist’s voice echoed in my mind, cutting me off. She claimed that the key to healing was to face reality head on, without running away or making excuses. Her advice had always worked for me before, so I intended to keep following it.
“No, that’s a lie. I meant what I said, but I was wrong. I know you haven’t had it easy. I was angry and I lashed out at you, but I shouldn’t have done that.”
I nervously toyed with the bandages on my hands. My wounds weren’t as bad as I’d first feared, barely more than scrapes, but my palms were sensitive, and the damaged skin hurt. I kept rubbing at them with my fingers, hoping to soothe the pain, but it never went away.
Clay’s hand suddenly grasped mine, making me jump.
“It’s fine,” he said, his gaze meeting mine. “I get it. Trust me, I really do get it. I can’t tell you how many times I lashed out at my brother or Logan when I was angry. And they were always innocent. You at least have a good reason to be angry at us. It’s not fair to drop something like this on you.”
Our eyes weren’t the same. Since we both had blue eyes, I always assumed they were the same color, but now that I was getting my first up-close look at Clay, I realized there were some differences. His eyes were a true blue, like the crisp March sky hanging over us right now. My eyes, on the other hand, had flecks of green scattered through the blue. We’d both been chosen specifically for our looks, but even in this we didn’t match.
Breaking his gaze, I stared down at the fraying edges of my bandages.
“I’m not really angry that you asked me to be a witness. As soon as I heard that the case had been put on hold, I kind of expected it.”
What was the saying?
In for a penny, in for a pound?
That phrase probably made more sense over in Britain where a pound was an actual currency, but it still applied. Since I was coming clean to Clay, I may as well admit everything.
“To be honest, I’m... I’m jealous.”
“Jealous?” Clay repeated, saying the word slowly like he was double-checking its meaning.
