I shake my head. I can’t tell him about the months of tracking. Digging. Searching. All the money I spent in Marcus, trusting him to bring justice to this situation.
At fourteen, I watched her testify against her own mother. My mom called her snake like her father.
I was there. The day she said her mom shot Grant Winchester. The day she lied under oath. The day she sent an innocent woman––her own mother––to prison. She must be fucked in the head to do something like that.
Because I remember that night. Remember seeing the man—Damien Lopez—holding the gun. I remember the angle, the positioning.
Something’s wrong. Something doesn’t add up.
And I need to know what and why she would lie.
But my mom made me promise. Over and over and over. Never tell anyone we were there. Never speak about that night. Never get involved.
But that night when Grant didn’t come home, a piece of me died too.
My mom blamed herself. Spiraled for years. “Maybe he wasn’t cheating,” she’d say. “Maybe he was trying to protect his daughter from the abuse. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was cheating. Maybe he was leaving us for them. Maybe she was leaving her husband and that’s why he shot him.”
Every scenario. Every possibility. Every what-if.
She beat herself up until there was nothing left.
And the only thing that kept me sane was hockey.
Channeling everything into the ice. The aggression. The pain. The rage.
But nothing felt as good as learning about Tigerlily Lopez.
TigerlilyWinchester.
She changed her last name. Erased her biological father. Erased Grant, her mother, and became someone new.
And I couldn’t blame her. I considered changing mine too. I wanted to be a Winchester. Honoring the man who taught me everything. Sometimes I wish I did.
I’ve kept tabs on her, watched from a distance, and learned she would attend the same college as me. UCLA. Smart girl.
I got Asher to talk to her friend, Elle, over some stupid bet. Then he convinced Elle to invite Tigerlily to our games. I wanted her close. I wanted her in my orbit so fucking badly. And I had been patient all this time already, so I could wait this out too.
But game after game, she didn’t show.
Until one night she did.
I saw her in the stands. Row twelve. Right side. Wearing jeans and a jacket. Looking uncomfortable.
And I knew that this was my only chance.
I had to get close. I was desperate to learn the truth. I wanted to make her pay for what she did to Grant. To my mother. To her mother. She’s a liar. And timid. And yet… fucking angelic.
I turned up to the stands, looking for her. My eyes kept going back all night to her, just waiting. I wanted her to notice me.
But then she disappeared.
One moment, she was in her seat. The next, my eyes were scrambling across the damn stadium, wondering where she had gone. Then I found her. She was walking down the stairs. She was leaving.
No.
She can’t fucking leave. Not before I get what I need.
So I did the only thing I could think of.
