Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I wonder what he would think of her if he knew her secret. The only thing is that I’m a part of that secret too.
He stands, pocketing his phone. “Becky …”
She spins around and storms out the double doors, and he goes running after her.
I look at Bennett. “Make sure that video is nowhere to be found.” Deke didn’t get it done.
He nods once and pulls his phone out. “And the other one? The first one of you two when we threw that party …?”
“Make it disappear too.” I want no trace of her on social media. “Hack into her account and delete it.” She may hate me for it when she wakes up, but it is what’s best for her.
Word has gotten out about Kellan being the one who shot her, not me. It’s been all over the news. They have a manhunt out to find him. I turned the TV in the waiting room off hours ago because I couldn’t watch it anymore. They had taken a picture from her Facebook and plastered it along with the story all over Collins.
Teenage boy sleeping with best friend’s girlfriend and her stepmom. One woman dead and the other in critical condition. No suspects currently in custody.
I almost threw my chair at the TV when I saw that headline. News spreads fast in a town like this, and they always twist the story, no matter how much they have to lie to do it.
I know firsthand what they will do.
I had laid in the hospital bed hooked up to machines with my left wrist handcuffed to the railing. They acted like I was gonna get up and run out of there after the car wreck. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I didn’t understand just how badly I was injured until I went to stand. The paramedics had ripped Eli from my arms and helped me to my feet only for me to collapse. I couldn’t breathe. My legs no longer worked, my vision was blurry, and my head began to pound.
They called the headache I got after my car crash a post-traumatic headache, and it was crippling. They said that the adrenaline rush caused it to delay. That was just one of the things wrong with me. They said I had a collapsed lung as well. I woke up hours later in the hospital to the TV playing in my room.
“Three teenage boys dead after allegedly drunk driving.” The reporter stands in the middle of the street, my car still upside down. The flashing lights from all the police vehicles, fire trucks, and paramedics light up the night around her.
“One witness stated that she saw them leave the party where they had been previously drinking at all evening. It’s not clear if they were road racing …”
I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath, but it hurts. Everything hurts.
“Cole?”
I open my heavy eyes to see my father burst into my room. His eyes narrow on me, and an officer enters behind him. It may be the middle of the night, but he’s dressed like he just closed a multimillion-dollar deal. “Release him.”
“Mr. Reynolds, I don’t think …”
“Release him right now!” he barks.
The officer unlocks my left wrist. I’m pretty sure they would have cuffed my right wrist if my arm wasn’t in a sling from surgery. They said surgery isn’t usually needed for a broken collarbone, but the way it broke required screws. My now free hand falls to my side. I don’t even have the strength to hold it up. The meds make me sluggish but don’t mask the pain.
“Sir, your son is under arrest. Once he’s discharged, I will transport him to the police station for booking.”
My father steps up to him, and the officer swallows nervously. “Make this go away, or you will.”
The officer narrows his eyes on my father and goes to open his mouth, but the door opens, and my father’s longtime best friend, Detective Monroe, enters my room. My eyes begin to get heavy. “Officer Lawrence, you may leave.”
“But …”
“You’re done here,” Detective Monroe barks.
I blink, watching the young guy stomp out of my room like a child not getting his way. I try to keep my eyes open, but my heavy lids won’t stay up. The drugs they give me knock me out for hours at a time, which is fine. All the TV channels are reporting on my dead friends, and how there should have been four bodies, not three. I can’t help but agree with them.
“You know this isn’t what it seems,” my father snaps.
My eyes close, unable to remain open anymore.
“Liam, Cole gave a statement …”
I try to open them, but they refuse to cooperate.
“I don’t give a fuck what he said. Fucking fix it, or you will find yourself without a fucking job!”