Page 23 of Worth the Scandal
I grab my duffel, trying to shut it down. “We met in Sydney. Once. Didn’t know who she was.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Figures.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I bite back, my muscles have tightened, and a small burn slides up my spine into the back of my head.
Caleb steps in closer, voice dropping low enough I feel it in my chest. “It means you get away with everything, Asher. You fuck up, and someone else pays the price. But not this time, stay away from Scarlett.”
The air shifts. The unspoken thing—the crash—settles like a weight between us.
“I didn’t—” I start, but my voice falters. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I barely remember that night. I trip over my words, happens every time I think back to that night.
“You didn’t what?” Caleb snaps. “You didn’t kill her? Right. Because she didn’t die that night, huh? Took her a few days. Silent. Slow. You had time to clean it up before anyone blamed you.”
I flinch. Because I don’t know how to argue with that. Because he could be right, I don’t remember enough to know what’s fair and what’s not.
“You’re lucky you’ve got money,” Caleb mutters, stepping back. “Lucky you’ve got parents who can pay your way out of everything. I’d be rotting in a cell if it were me behind the wheel that night. But you? You’re out here throwing balls and posing for press like it’s just another day in paradise.” He throws that shit in my face like it means nothing, imagine if he really knew. The thought makes me shudder.
“I wasn’t—” My mouth goes dry. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You never mean to,” Caleb cuts in. “But people still end up dead. Scarlett won’t be one of them.”
Silence stretches. The only sound is the locker doors rattling as someone kicks one open a few rows down.
Then, mercifully—interruption.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Collins drawls, strolling in with a towel slung around his neck and absolutely no awareness of the bomb that just went off. “Are we arguing about Scarlett? Because if this is a turf war, I’d like to formally submit myself as a dark horse contender. I’m not afraid of Coach Walker or Ash. Or at least, I wasn’t until Asher sprinted into the Golden Sparrow the second she walked in like his ass was on fire.”
Jace appears behind him, smirking. “No one even said hi. He just vanished to her table. Like Batman but with worse social skills.”
“I wasn’t sprinting,” I mumble, zipping my duffel with more force than necessary.Get me out of here.
“Dude, you nearly knocked over the cocktail waitress,” Collins says. “She’s still in therapy.” They both break out in a deep laugh, their bodies shaking with each ragged breath.Okay comedians.
Caleb shoots me one final glare before storming out. He won’t put the heavy on me when the boys are around, they don’t much like him more than I do.
I sit back on the bench with my duffel and exhale some relief, every muscle aching—only now, it’s not from the workout. It’s from trying to hold myself together when the seams are already split. Speaking of therapy, that’s exactly where I’m headed. My weekly appointment. Doc is in for it today, I hope he’s ready.
3:17PM—Therapist’s Office
“You look tired,” Dr. Lawson says gently, settling into his chair. “Bad night?”
“Bad morning,” I say, voice dry. “Bad training. Bad everything.”
“You’re still coming here, though. That counts.”
I nod, jaw tight. He’s been good to me old doc. He’s got that typical quack look you know, short balding old man wears a pairof thin framed specs and dresses way too nice for someone living out here. Good at what he does but, no one gets me talking like Dr Lawson.
He waits a beat, then asks, “Do you want to talk about the girl?”
I stare at the floor. “It was supposed to be one night. In Sydney. No names. No mess. It was… real. The last real thing before everything fell apart.”
“She’s here now?”
I nod.
“How do you feel?”
Like a fucking train hit me at full speed and I’m still scraping pieces of myself off the tracks.
