She looks at me blankly. Like she doesn’t understand the question, but I don’t really believe that.
I take a breath when she doesn’t answer me. “If I were him…”
“You’d be dead,” she deadpans.
I run my tongue over my teeth to keep from laughing. “I would never have left you there.” My voice is lower than I meant it to be, and the dim lighting in the entertainment room cocoons us in darkness as the TV flickers to a commercial.
We’re leaning in toward one another, and I’m thinking of her sitting on Sylvan’s lap at Castle’s and how I want to fucking erase that from my brain by dragging her to sit on me instead.
“Anyway.” She tries for flippant, but her voice cracks. “That’s what happened. Then somehow Jackson found out, and I wanted to break up with him anyway. We had to meet after my night class?—”
“The one I walked you from.”
“The one you stalked me from.” She doesn’t miss a beat. “He was telling me he knew what happened?—”
“How did he know?”
She stills. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Tell me, North.” She’s holding something back.
She looks down at her knee against my hip. Squeezes her phone. Then it all comes out in a rush. “Jackson told me Willconfessed.”She lifts her eyes to mine. “Heabsolutelyused that word in his truck. I remember, because that’s when he started shouting. But when Will came by my place…”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from questioning her about that. Abouthowhe hurt her. It’s not like I can kill the fucker when he’s already dead, but just like his stupid friend, he deserved to get stabbed for putting his hands on her. And Sylvan wasn’t wrong to assault him.
But was he wrong to kill him?
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? If I find out my teammate did it, would I turn him in? It’s dangerous, because that means Connor clearly has problems hockey won’t solve. But if I think Will Barbour deserved death, why should I punish Sylvan?
The thought makes me feel sick because it’s a legal dilemma I don’t want to ruin my life for.
Then again, if I saw Will with his filthy hands on her, I might have killed him right then. That could mean Sylvan Connor, cocky freshman, has more self-control than I do.
That doesn’t seem right.
“He told me he didn’t tell him. And I think he was telling the truth.”
Silence settles between us. It might seem as if it doesn’t matter, but that one detail could be extremely important. Yet it makes me think of something Coach Wynon casually mentioned to me when he was giving me information I shouldn’t have.
And now I need to tell Neve.
“What?” she asks, as if she knows I’m holding back. “I can see it in your eyes. Something churning in that beautiful brain of yours.”
I catch her eyes. “Beautiful, huh?”
She lowers her lashes, smiling. “Tell me,” she requests softly.
Fuck, if she always used that voice on me, she could have whatever she wants. I swallow, clear my throat, then say, “Coach mentioned something I shouldn’t know, so it can go nowhere. He has ties with the police, through Drayton’s counsel.”
She meets my gaze, nods once, and even though maybe I shouldn’t, for some reason, I trust her.
“The investigators haven’t found Will’s phone. Apparently, a few days prior to his death—before Jackson died, even—he’d reported it missing. Earlier in the week.”
Her complexion goes pale.“BeforeJackson?” she asks, her voice rough.
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
That ghostly pallor is still in her face. “He… mentioned it to me. When he came over.” She swallows hard. “That he lost his phone. But I kind of thought he was lying.”
