ROYAL (23 page)

“He’s manipulating you.” My fingers hook on my belt loops,
and I shake my head. “Don’t listen to him, Misty. He fucking raped you. You’re
leaving with me. And I’m calling the police. Rick’s a fucking monster, and I’m
going to make sure he’s locked up for fucking decades.”

Misty’s smile fades, and her eyes grow round. She turns to Rick,
grabbing the fabric of his shirt and clinging onto him like she clung to me a
little bit ago. I recognize that look on her face. She’s terrified. Terrified
of losing the only man who makes her feel loved. And coincidentally, the only
man who keeps her addiction nice and satiated.

“Don’t let him, Sugar Bee,” Rick coos. “Police come, they’re
gonna lock me up for good. Send me away. You’ll never see me again, ‘cept for
maybe when you’re testifying against me in court. You wouldn’t want to do that
now, would you? Send me away? Ain’t nobody ever gonna love you like I do. You
know that.”

Misty nods, licking the tears off her lips.

“And shit, they’ll lock you up too,” Rick adds. “You know
they’ll find every reason they can to stick you in juvie, and you don’t belong
in there. You wouldn’t want to be sent away, would you, babe?”

She looks to me, then to Rick, then to me again.

“I love him, Royal.” Her words are jagged and defeated. “I
know that’s not what you want to hear, but I love him
so
much. And he’s right. You only come around when I’m in trouble.
Rick’s always been here, having my back, loving on me like I’m the greatest
thing in the world.”

Taking a fistful of my hair, I tug on the ends and stare at
the grimy carpet so hard my eyes hurt. She thinks she’s in love and fucking
Rick
is her first love. I know firsthand
how powerful first loves are. That bond, whether rational or irrational, is
impenetrable.

“You are, baby,” Rick adds, rubbing circles into her bony
back. “You’re the best thing in the world. Shit, baby, you
are
my world.”

I refuse to stand here and watch him do this to her. She’s
too young to see what’s going on, and she’s too addicted to care.

But I care. I fucking care. And I blame myself for this.

I’ve had a truck since the day I turned sixteen. I could’ve
come around more. Sure, it’s a three-hour drive, but I could’ve made the effort
to be around more, to be a better influence and to spend more time with her.

This is all my fault. I’ve failed her as an older brother.
But I’m going to fix it now.

“Come on, Misty.” I yank her by the arm and pull her to the
door a final time. My grip on her wrist feels like it might break her, but I’m
not letting go. She’s coming with me, and there’s not a damn thing she can do
about it.

“Royal, let go!” Misty squirms and fidgets, pulling against
me like a puppy fighting its leash. “I don’t wanna go with you! I hate you! I
hate you! I hate you!”

Misty thrashes her arms and kicks my shins, her head flying
from side to side and causing her hair to stick to her tear-streaked face.

“Calm the fuck down,” I say through gritted teeth. “Don’t
fight me now.”

“Stop! You’re hurting me, Royal,” she cries. “Don’t do this.
Don’t do this, please . . .”

Her nails scratch the flesh on my arms, drawing blood.
Within seconds, I’m covered in claw marks.

“Let her go, Royal,” Rick yells.

I glance over and he’s standing there, arms crossed, wearing
his classic smug smirk with his phone out. He doesn’t try to come to her
rescue, he just stands there like he’s watching fucking Jerry Springer.

“The hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Making damn sure you don’t go doing anything stupid,” he
says.

I release Misty, and she falls to the floor in a pile of
tattered clothes and disheveled hair.

“What the hell does that mean?” I storm across the room, and
he shoves his phone in his back pocket, lifting his hands and shrugging.

“You go to the cops about any of this,” he says. “I’ll make
damn sure you’re the one who goes away for a long, long time.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I spit my words at him.

He pulls his phone out, replaying the audio recording he
took of my sister screaming for me to stop and that I’m hurting her.

“Fuck you, Rick.” I’m burning. Head to toe. My insides on
fire. “Fuck. You.”

He laughs, motioning for my sister to come to him. They plop
down on the sofa together, and she curls her legs up, tucking herself against
him like a lap dog.

I can’t believe this is happening.

“Best be on your way, son.” Rick nods to the screen door,
then he slips his arm around my sister, resting his hand on the side of her ass
like he fucking owns her.

Fuck it.

I can’t force her to go with me.

And I sure as hell don’t want to be locked up for something I
didn’t do.

God, I can’t even imagine what the Rosewoods would think if
I was accused of doing something like that to my little sister. Just the
thought makes me ill.

“Fine. I’m leaving.” My hand rests on the door. “But you
should know, Misty, that that man does not love you. He’s using you. He’s
manipulating you. But me? I’m family. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

With that, I’m gone.

There’s nothing left for me to do but hope she comes around.
Hope she sees the light. And hope she doesn’t die of some overdose before she
has a chance to make something of herself.

***

I’m halfway back to Rixton Falls, nerves still firing and
body still shaking with rage, when red, white, and blue flashing lights fill my
rearview mirror. A quick glance at my speedometer tells me I’m barely going a
few MPH over the speed limit.

Pulling over, I slip my wallet from my back pocket and
retrieve my license. My arms are covered in smeared blood and claw-like
scratches.

Fuck.

With nothing but jeans and a t-shirt on, there’s no way to
hide these.

The blinding yellow of a bright flashlight shines in my
face, and I can’t make out the deputy’s face.

“Royal Lockhart?” a woman’s voice asks. The light lowers,
and I see her. Bare face. Hardened stare. Zero sympathy. The nameplate above
the badge on her chest reads DEPUTY MARTINEZ.

“Yes?”

“Sir, step out of the vehicle and place your hands where I
can see them.”

I can practically feel the color draining from my face, and
when I try to swallow, nothing happens. My throat is tight. My chest weighted.

This isn’t a normal traffic stop.

Climbing out with slow, deliberate moves, I raise my hands
in the air. Another squad car is parked behind Deputy Martinez’s vehicle, and a
third one flies up in a cloud of dust.

What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?

“Royal Lockhart, you are under arrest for sexual assault of
a minor.” There’s an underlayment of disgust in her voice, and the pounding of
my heart in my ears makes her sound far away even though she’s standing behind
me. The ratcheting and clinking of her handcuffs sends a knot to my stomach.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used
against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney . . .”

I swallow air like I’m drowning, and when the metal cuffs are
tightened around my wrists, I close my eyes.

This is all a bad dream.

No, it’s a nightmare.

Deputy Martinez leads me to the back of her car and presses
her hand on the top of my head when she pushes me in. I land on my knees, and
with my hands behind my back, I right my position.

The cuffs dig into the bones of my wrist. I stare straight
ahead at the tailgate of my truck. Both doors to the cab are open and two
deputies are combing through it like they’re going to find something.

They walk back with a white evidence bag filled with who
knows what. All I had in there were a couple of sweatshirts, some packs of gum,
a half-empty Gatorade bottle, and an extra pair of sneakers.

Deputy Martinez climbs into the front seat a while later,
bringing the radio to her lips. “We got him. On our way back.”

The backseat is nothing but metal on metal. Metal seat.
Metal bars.

I’m a fucking caged animal.

With each bump in the road, I bounce in the back, my head
smacking the grid on the window. Martinez says nothing, but I’m not sure what I
was expecting. It’s not like cops have to express their appreciation for your
cooperation.

I draw in four long, deep breaths and shut my eyes again,
resisting the urge to scream at this woman that I’m innocent.

I did nothing wrong besides try to save my sister from that
fucking predator she thinks she loves.

Robert would tell me to keep my mouth shut until he gets
here, so that’s what I’ll do.

I’ll call him first chance I get, and he’ll fix all this.

And later tonight, we’ll be heading back to Rixton Falls.
And I can see Demi. And I can forget this ever happened.

God. Demi. I miss her so much right now.

With eyes closed tight, I concentrate on how good it’s going
to feel to see her again. To put this behind me and to lose myself in her
beautiful blues and to taste her on my tongue and smell her on my skin.

I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire
life.

Demi Rosewood
is
my life.

Just have to get through tonight.

And then I’ll see her tomorrow.

Demi

“Demi. Demi, say something.” Royal’s hand on mine brings me
out of my catatonic trance.

He’s the victim, but I’m sitting here, emotionally gutted,
trying to wrap my head around everything he just told me.

He drove. He drove for miles, spilling his story. Sharing
every painful detail. And now we’re parked outside his apartment. His car’s
beside mine, as if he’s silently telling me he understands if I want to leave
him.

I turn to Royal, eyes filled to the brim with nothing but
heartache and salty tears, and lunge for him. Wrapping my arms around him, my
entire body shakes, and I bury my head in his shoulder.

The image of Royal, at nineteen, scared, falsely accused, mistakenly
hopeful . . . sends a deep, searing pain across my chest.

“You . . . you believe me?” His voice is a broken whisper
against my ear.

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. My words are trapped,
lodged in my restricted throat, so I nod vehemently.

Peeling myself away, I drag my fingers beneath my eyes and
clean up the wet streaks and dab at my nose. Our eyes meet, and all those
hardened, dark feelings I’d carried toward him soften, melting.

“Why did you ever think I wouldn’t believe you?” There’s a
punishing tone in my voice, but I still love this man to the end of the earth
and back.

“Nobody believed me back then,” he says. “Your dad . . .”

He stops, swallowing hard and glancing away.

“Your dad was my only phone call,” he says. “He came to the
station late that night, calmed me down. Everything was fine until he was shown
the police report. And the recording. The ripped clothes. The physical marks.
He read my sister’s statement and Rick’s, which claimed I tried to fucking
rape
my sister and that Rick had to peel
me off of her and kick me out of his house. They’d obviously taken the time to
corroborate after I left . . .”

My trembling hand flies to my lips.

“My word wasn’t good enough for your dad,” Royal says. “He
said the case against me was too strong, the evidence too damning. He didn’t
believe me. Told me to work with a court-appointed defense attorney and to
never set foot around you or the rest of the family ever again. I’d never felt
like a bigger piece of shit in my life.”

“And you didn’t even do anything.”

“Exactly.”

I thread my fingers in his, squeezing tight.

“I don’t hold anything against your dad,” Royal says. “The
evidence against me was there, and he was just looking out for his daughter.
Can’t say I’d have done anything different if I were him, but goddamn, it was the
worst day of my fucking life, Demi.”

I lean into him and press my face against his chest,
inhaling the scent of his shirt and resting the palm of my hand against his
warm cheek.

“Misty and Rick,” he says. “They fucked me over.”

“Did you try to tell the police what really happened?”

“Of course. They didn’t believe me. They treated me like I
was guilty the second they cuffed me, and every time I gave my side of the
story, they’d look at me with squinted eyes. Hardly wrote anything down.”

“What’d your attorney say?”

“He said what your father said. The evidence against me was
too strong. He said if we took it to trial, there was no way I’d walk out a
free man. They had signs of assault, my DNA under her fingernails, an
accusation, and two witnesses. Didn’t stand a chance. I was looking at seven
years behind bars and fifteen years as a registered sex offender. That’s why I
took the plea deal. I served two and a half years of a five year sentence, and
I have to register as an offender for ten.”

“Jesus, Royal.”

“Yeah. So. That’s what I’ve been reliving on a nightly basis
for the last seven years.”

“So that’s why you were so uncomfortable around Misty
earlier.”

“Uncomfortable? Yeah. To say the least.”

“She knows the truth right? Can’t you get her to go to the
police and admit she lied? What about Rick?”

“Rick died a few weeks ago. And Misty won’t ever admit she
did anything wrong. Told me the other day that she’s ‘over’ what happened, and
that I should be too.”

“Wow . . .”

I stare at this man, this beautiful man with this beautiful
soul, and so much inherent, natural born goodness behind his stormy gaze that
it’s unreal. The heart that beats in his chest is bigger and better than anyone
else’s out there.

He doesn’t deserve that shameful title.

It’s not what he is.