Page 70 of Worth the Scandal
“That’s the last clear thing. Everything after is pieces. Headlights. Tires screeching. Metal. Her screaming my name.”
I stop. I can’t breathe for a second.
Tap. Tap.
“And Caleb,” I whisper. “He was at my side when I woke up. In the hospital.”
“What did he say?” my therapist asks softly.
“He said I was lucky. That I’d been trashed. He said I’d insisted on driving.”
I pause.
“But I didn’t feel drunk. Not like that. My body felt… wrong. My mouth was dry. My head was swimming. Like I was outside of myself. It wasn’t alcohol.”
Tap. Tap.
“And later—after the funeral—I had asked him about the drink. The solo cup if they had anything else they made up. He said, “Everyone had the same shit, bro.” But I remembered something.
My heart is hammering now.
“He never drank that night. Said he wasn’t in the mood.”
I swallow, hard.
“But I remember watching him touching cups when I went to the bathroom. He laughed and said it was Gatorade to ‘cut the taste.’
Tap. Tap.
“He wanted to leave early with Darcy. They were fighting. He was jealous of me again. He always was.”
“What do you think was in your drink?” my therapist asks gently.
I look up. Eyes burning.
“I think he drugged me,” I whisper. “So, I’d pass out. So, he could spin some bullshit about me not being cut out for the team.”
“And instead?” He asks.
“I got behind the wheel,” I rasp. “And I killed her.”
My breathing has gone ragged, I’m wheezing, sweat is dripping from my arm pits running down my torso. I’m panicking.
The tapping stops. The room is quiet.
I bury my face in my hands.
“He covered it up,” I say. “He let me carry it. He stood there at the funeral, crying, telling me, hating me—telling me I killed her. When I know it was his fucking stupid jealousy that did”
“You’re remembering now,” Dr Lawson says gently.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “But what the hell do I do with it?”
Chapter Thirty Two - Scarlett
We need proof.
We need a plan.
