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“See, that’s what I thought, too.”
She shakes her head and looks back at the camera. “Quite honestly, Lennon, I never thought much of Owen. He’s a lazy sack of shit so I am surprised that he would go to all this trouble.”
Exactly.
This is what I’ve been thinking the whole damn time.
“Yes. That is what I keep asking myself. Why go to all this trouble? I mean, the night I left her got kind of physical with me but-”
“He what?” She screeches, her eyes wide as she leans in closer to the camera.
Shit.
I never told her about that.
“Yeah,” I say, drawing the word out a bit as I let out a nervous laugh. “He grabbed my arm pretty tight to try and stop me from leaving and left bruises there but I was okay.”
She scoffs, her brows slamming down as she studies me like she’s looking for more injuries. “Absolutely fucking not. I’m going to come down there and beat his dumb fucking face in.”
“Dalton already did that,” I tell her, fighting back a grin as she leans back in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Don’t give a shit,” she grumbles, shaking her head. “I’m gonna do it again. In fact, I might do it once a month for the rest of his miserable life for putting his hands on my best friend.”
I bite my lip to try and contain my laughter.
God, her and Dalton are completely on the same page with this.
“I’ll be sure to let Dalton know that he has an accomplice in his campaign against Owen.”
She gives me a curt nod. “Good. We’ll make t-shirts for our Owen bashing club.”
“Your Owen bashing club?” I ask, arching a brow and she flashes me a grin.
“Get it? ‘Cause we’re literally going to bash his face in.”
I can’t stop the laugh that spills out of me as I shake my head at just how ridiculous she is.
“I think they call that evidence and premeditation, Morgie,” I tell her and she just grunts in response, a scowl on her face. She’s quiet for a moment, staring at the wall in front of her, before she turns back to me.
“Do you really think he tried to run you off the road?”
Letting out a sigh, I look up at the ceiling and go over the conversation Dalton and I had about this last night. He doesn’t necessarily believe Owen when he claimed he wasn’t involved but he also doesn’t have a better answer for who could have been driving the sedan.
It makes sense that it was Owen.
He rented the car.
He clearly has an agenda here that we haven’t figured out.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, shaking my head. “Who else would it be, though?”
“Yeah,” she agrees, chewing on her bottom lips as she stares at the wall again. “Why not just admit it, though?”
I scoff. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because my boyfriend would have fucking killed him.”
“Hold on one minute,” she says, turning her whole chair toward me as her brows shoot toward her hairline. The tone in her voice makes my stomach do a little flip. “Boyfriend? Are you guys all official now?”
Shit.
