We stare at each other for a beat. “It’s Haven,” I mutter.
“Last name?” He ducks his head to write, glances up when I’m quiet. “Do you know her last name?”
“Um…No. She’s in Rooke’s class.” And Jesus, of course my voice breaks on his name, because just saying makes my mouth turn bitter and then sweet.
“Rooke?” He writes that down too, and fuck, it feels like fire ants are marching up my goddamn spine.
It’s the intensity in his brown eyes—a kind of fervor that makes me imagine he loves nothing more than untangling a case and following every thread right to the end.
No open loops.
What the fuck is he going to find out if he tries to unravel everything that happened last night? Haven leaving with Rooke? Me leaving with iPhone and Kruger? Me ending upatRooke’s? Me and Haven only leaving his place this morning?
I’ve gotta make it easier for him. No need to go digging if I just hand him everything he wants, right?
I snap a finger. “Lee. I remember now. It’s Haven Lee. She, uh, we used to be friends. Waaay back. Like elementary school.” I wave my hand, trying to sound dismissive.
Easier said than done when I have hundreds of photos of her on my phone. A phone that’s growing warmer in my pocket, like it’s about to catch fire.
“Ezra’s been bullying her,” I blurt out. “She got into college on a grant, and he’s convinced she’s just eating up school funds. That she doesn’t deserve to be here.”
“That so?” Thatcher isn’t taking any more notes. There’s a stormy look in his eyes the longer I go on, this slow building up of something that might be annoyance.
Am I talking too much? Do I sound guilty? I mean, fuck, he already knows I did it.
So whyhasn’the arrested me? Or even taken me down to the sheriff’s office for questioning?
I wanna puke, and it’s got nothing to do with the aftertaste of Rooke’s cum in my mouth.
I drag a hand over my face, digging my fingers into my jaw on either side.
Why the fuck did I have to think about that? It’s bad enough these clothes reek of his cologne. That I keep forgetting to breathe through my mouth so I don’t smell it.
“Is that why you assaulted him?” Thatcher eventually asks. “You were upset with how Ezra was treating her?”
I swallow hard as I bundle my hands into a tight ball in my lap. “You sure I don’t need a fucking lawyer or something?” I snap.
“Do youthinkyou need a lawyer?” Thatcher tilts his head.
Fuck, I swear I’m getting an ulcer.
“Look, man, did I hit Ezra? Yes. Should I have hit him sohard? No, but he fucking deserved it.”
I clench my jaw in case I decide to spill more state secrets than I already have.
“Because of how he treated Haven.” Thatcher nods a few times. “So you didn’t mean to hurt him? Events just spiraled?”
“Yeah. I mean…I guess.”
He points the blunt end of the pencil at me. “Witnesses claim you left the party soon after the alleged assault. Where did you go?”
To my fucking teacher’s house, and Jesus, don’t I bet you want to know alll about that ‘shit.’
I roll my lips together, forcing the intrusive thought from my head before I spew into the basin.
“You want some coffee, man?” I slip off the stool before he can answer. “We got this new coffee machine start of the semester. This shit’s like god-tier.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jordan, but I’d rather just finish up here so I can get back to the station and fill out my report, if it’s all the same to you.”
