“Yeah, right.” She snorts. “Proof of what, exactly?”
“Proof that he had a motive.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Look, I don’t know what you think you have, but I’m telling you that he had nothing to do with this.”
“Why was he there?”
“I can’t say.”
My jaw clenches. “How convenient.”
“It’s not like that.He’snot like that,” she says, clearing her throat though her voice remains hoarse. “He wouldn’t do that to my mom, and if he did, he would never sleep with a girl my age, let alone my friend.”
I feel my face pull in confusion. I want to yell, “HE WAS AT A SEX CLUB!” but I reel myself in. “Yet I have proof.”
“You’re wrong.”
I pause. “This can go one of two ways. You can help me, or I can speak to every judge and attorney in town and stain your stepfather’s reputation.”
“His reputation precedes him. No one would believe you.”
I roll my eyes. “I think you forget who you’re talking to.”
She’s silent for a very long time before saying, “Unbelievable,” and then screaming, “UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE!”
I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from speaking. Perfect little Josslyn Santos sounds hot as fuck when she loses her temper. When I say nothing, she continues talking like I knew she would.
“No wonder Mal looked for a family elsewhere,” she says calmly. “The one she had was clearly a piece of shit.”
Her words hit me in the chest. My mother was right. Mal deserved much better than the life she was thrown into. When they adopted her, they provided her with an abundance of luxuries that, unlike me, she hadn’t been born into. I always figured the exposure to different people that hockey gave me was the reason I was conscious about the things we were afforded, but maybe it was Mallory. Maybe it was the innocent way she used to balk every time she walked into opulent rooms. In my parents’ minds, they were doing her a favor by bringing her into this life.
It makes me think of the time a puck bunny I met told me that since all men were trash, she’d rather be a doormat trophy wife to a wealthy man than an equal partner to another.“If I’m going to cry anyway, I’d rather wipe my tears with money than rags.”
For so long I thought Mallory was a little brat for demanding so much from our parents. She couldn’t just accept their lavish gifts. She wanted their attention, and worse, affection. It’s just not the Barlow way. Not unless you’re Lucas and Asher, who won the mom lottery. At some point, Mal must have realized that, because even though she must have felt unworthy of it, she startedleaning into the Barlow name and lifestyle. Everything became a competition.
That’s something that’s never sat well with me about her friendship with Josslyn. My sister was riddled with jealousy. She’d always found it difficult to make friends with other girls, and rarely had kind things to say about them. She wouldn’t have written all of those wonderful things about Josslyn. She certainly wouldn’t have spent that much time with her family if there wasn’t more to it. Unless Titus was seducing her, or vice versa. It wouldn’t matter if it was the latter. Between their age difference, her daddy issues, and her need for affection, she would have been easy prey for someone like Titus. I inhale, exhale, and decide to switch my tactic.
“Does your mother know where he was that night?” I ask, taking her silence as confirmation. “I can only imagine all the places her imagination would go seeing her perfect little daughter leaving a sex club with her stepfather.”
“Oh my … Jesus Christ, Finneas!” she growls, and fuck me, I want to hear her say that again.
And again. And again.
A vision of me flipping her over and spanking her ass and her pussy until she comes, screaming those words, plays out at the forefront of my mind. I take a breath and shift my legs to fix my now rock-hard cock.
“Does Damian know you were both there?”
Another pregnant pause. When she speaks again, she sounds a little defeated. “What do you want from me? Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
Well, there’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. “I want you to help me prove Titus did this.”
“But he didn’t,” her voice shakes, and I think she might be crying.
“You know that for sure? You’d be willing to stand in court and swear on a bible?” I open my mouth to continue,but Hamilton turns the corner with his equipment bag over his shoulder. “Think on that.”
I don’t wait for her to respond. I hang up and look at my screen, clicking the text message she just sent.
Josslyn: FYI I DON’T BELIEVE IN THE BIBLE AND NEITHER DO MOST PEOPLE WHO STAND UP THERE AND PUT THEIR HAND ON IT SO WHY DON’T YOU THINK ON THAT?!
