Twisted Palace (19 page)

S
ilence crashes over the study
. My father is gaping at the lawyer. I’m gaping at my father.

“What do you mean, it’s
mine
?” Dad’s tortured eyes are fixed on Grier. “That’s not possible. I had a…”

Vasectomy
, I finish silently. When Brooke announced her pregnancy, Dad was certain the baby couldn’t be his, because he’d gotten snipped after Mom had the twins. And I was certain it couldn’t be mine, because I hadn’t slept with Brooke in more than half a year.

Looks like only one of us was right.

“The test confirmed it,” Grier answers. “You were the father, Callum.”

Dad swallows hard. His eyes glaze over a bit.

“Dad?” I say tentatively.

He stares at the ceiling as if it’s too painful for him to look at me. A muscle in the back of his jaw flexes, and then he shudders out an unsteady breath. “I thought she was lying to me. She didn’t know I’d had the vasectomy, and I thought…” Another breath. “I thought, it had to be someone else’s.”

Yeah. He decided it was
mine
. But I can’t blame him for reaching that conclusion. He’d known about me and Brooke, so of course the thought had entered his mind. I guess the other thought—that it could actually be
his
—never did.

Sympathy ripples through me. Dad might’ve hated Brooke, but he would’ve been a good father to her kid. The loss has to be killing him.

He inhales heavily before finally looking my way. “I…ah, do you need me here or can you handle the rest of the meeting on your own?”

“I can handle it,” I answer gruffly, because it’s obvious he can’t handle a damn thing at the moment.

Dad nods. “All right. Shout if you need me.”

His legs don’t appear to be steady as he leaves the room. There’s a beat of silence, and then Grier speaks up.

“Are you ready to continue?”

I nod weakly.

“All right. Let’s talk about Ella O’Halloran.” He shuffles through the endless fucking pile of papers and pulls out another set. “Ella O’Halloran, formerly known as Ella Harper, is a seventeen-year-old runaway who was found masquerading as a thirty-five-year-old and stripping in Tennessee just three months ago.”

Has it only been three months? I feel like Ella’s been a part of my life forever. Anger begins to pound at my temples. “Don’t talk about her.”

“I’m going to have to talk about her. She’s part of this case whether you like it or not. In fact, Harvey said you brought her along to some of the fights. She was unfazed by the blood.”

“What’s your point?” I repeat through gritted teeth.

“Let’s go through a few more statements, shall we?” He holds up a document and jabs it. “Here’s one from Jordan Carrington.”

“Jordan Carrington hates Ella’s guts.”

Grier once again ignores my comments. “‘We invited Ella to come try out for the dance team. She showed up wearing a thong and a bra, prancing through the gym. She has no shame and even fewer morals. It’s an embarrassment. But for some reason Reed likes this. He was never like this until she came along. He used to be decent, but she brings out the worst in him. Whenever she’s around, he’s extra mean.’”

“That is the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Jordan taped some freshman girl up to the side of Astor Park’s walls, and
I’m
extra mean? Ella didn’t change me one bit.”

“So you’re saying you were prone to violence even before Ella came along.”

“You’re twisting my words,” I spit out.

He laughs harshly. “This is a cakewalk compared to what a trial will be like.” He throws down Jordan’s statement and picks up another. “This is from Abigail Wentworth. Apparently you two were dating until you hurt her. Question: ‘How do you feel about Reed?’ Answer: ‘He hurt me. He hurt me really bad.’”

“I never touched her,” I say hotly.

“Question: ‘How did he hurt you?’ Answer: ‘I can’t talk about it. It’s too painful.’”

I explode from the chair, but Grier’s relentless.

“‘Interview was cut short because subject was distraught and could not be consoled. We will need to follow up.’”

I grab the back of the chair and squeeze it hard. “I broke up with her. We dated until I wasn’t feeling it anymore and then I broke it off. I didn’t hurt her physically. If I hurt her feelings, I’m sorry about that, but she must not be too sad because she fucked my brother last month.”

Grier’s left eyebrow pops up again. I feel the urge to pin him down and shave that fucker off.

“Great. The jury will love to hear about your deviant brothers.”

“What about them?”

He rattles more pages at me. “I have about ten statements here that say two of them date one girl.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It shows the kind of household you’re living in. It shows that you’re a kid of privilege who is in constant trouble. Your father cleans up your messes by paying people off.”

“I break jaws, not women.”

“You’re the only person on the video surveillance entering the building the night Brooke Davidson died. That’s opportunity. She was pregnant—”

“And the baby wasn’t mine,” I protest. “It was Dad’s.”

“Yes, but you were still having sex with her, as Dinah O’Halloran will testify to. That’s motive. Your DNA is under her fingernails, suggesting that she fought you off. The bandage on your side was newly applied that night. You have a history of physical violence, particularly when a woman in your life is verbally maligned. Your family is, if I can quote Ms. Carrington, without shame or morals. It’s not a stretch that you would kill someone if you felt threatened. That’s means. Finally, you have no alibi.”

When I was four or five, Gideon pushed me into the pool. At the time, I hadn’t really learned how to swim, which is dangerous when you live on the shore. I was fighting Mom about getting into the water, so Gideon up and threw me into the pool. The water rushed over my head and into my ears. I thrashed around like a helpless, dumb fish on dry land, thinking I would never get to the top. I probably would’ve grown up afraid of the water had Gideon not hauled me out and pushed me back in again and again and again until I learned that the water wasn’t going to kill me. But I still remember the fear and can taste the desperation.

That’s how I’m feeling now. Afraid and desperate. A cold sweat breaks out at the back of my neck as Greer picks up the last page.

“This is a plea deal,” he says quietly, as if he senses just how much he’s rattled me. “I worked it out with the prosecutor this morning. You plead to involuntary manslaughter. The sentence is for twenty years.”

This time when I clutch the chair, it’s not out of rage but helplessness.

“The prosecutor will recommend ten years. And if you’re good, no fights, no altercations of any kind, you could be out in five.”

My throat is dry and my tongue feels three sizes too big. I have to force the words out. “And if I don’t plead?”

“There are about fifteen states in the union that have abolished the death penalty.” He pauses. “North Carolina isn’t one of them.”

S
teve
and I have just finished eating dinner when my phone buzzes with a text from Reed. It takes all my willpower not to snatch up the phone and read what it says, but I know I can’t do that in front of Steve. He has no idea that I spent Friday night (and most of Saturday afternoon) in bed with Reed, and I’m not about to tip him off.

“Are you going to check that?” Steve asks as he sets down his napkin. There isn’t a trace of food left on his plate. In the week I’ve lived with him, I’ve discovered that Steve is a voracious eater.

“Later,” I answer absently. “It’s probably just Val.”

He nods. “She’s a nice girl.”

I don’t think he and Val have ever exchanged more than ten words, but if he approves of her, I’ll take it. God knows he doesn’t approve of Reed.

My gaze darts to my phone again. Willpower. I need willpower.

But I’m
dying
to know what the message says. I didn’t see Reed at school today, not even at lunch. I know he was there, because his suspension is over and I caught a glimpse of him on the practice field this morning. I think he might be avoiding me, but I have no idea why. When I asked Easton about it, he just shrugged and said, “Playoffs.”

As if that explains why Reed hasn’t called or texted me since Saturday night. I get that the team is focused on winning the championship, but Reed’s never let football distract him from our relationship before.

Some tiny, insecure part of me wonders if maybe he didn’t enjoy the sex as much as I did. But that
can’t
be true. I know when a guy is into me—and Reed was very, very, very into me this weekend.

So it must be something else. It has to be.

“Mind if I go to my room?” I blurt out, then curse myself for sounding so eager to get away.

Lately, things with Steve have been…okay. He still doesn’t want me seeing Reed, but I think he’s happy I’m part of the dance team now, and he’s been really nice to me since I got back from Gibson. I don’t want to threaten this fragile trust we’re building by revealing that I’m lying to him about Reed.

“Homework?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Tons,” I lie. “And it’s all due tomorrow.”

“All right, have at it. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

I try to look as casual as possible as I walk away. It isn’t until I reach the hallway that I start sprinting. In my room, I devour the sight of my phone screen.

Can I see u 2nite?

My pulse instantly races. God. Yes. I totally want to see him tonight. Not just because I miss him, but because I want to know why he’s been avoiding me.

However, Steve’s rules are clear when it comes to Reed. Meaning, I can’t see Reed outside of school. Ever.

Yes! But how? S won’t let me come ovr. And my curfew is 10.

Reed’s response makes my eyebrows soar.

I’ve already worked it out. Tell him u have a date 2nite.

Confused, I hurry into the bathroom and blast all the faucets before pulling up Reed’s number. Hopefully the running water will muffle my voice if Steve happens to walk past my room.

“Who do I have a date with?” I hiss after Reed picks up.

“Wade,” he answers. “But don’t worry, it’s not a real date.”

My forehead crinkles. “So you want me to tell Steve I’m going out with Wade tonight?”

“Yeah. It can’t be an issue, right? I mean, he said you’re not allowed to date
me
. Not that you’re not allowed to date
anybody
.”

True. “Okay,” I say slowly, wondering how I can swing this. “Maybe I’ll play up the reverse psychology thing?”

Reed snickers.

“No, seriously, it’s genius. I’ll tell him that somebody else asked me out, and how I really, really don’t want to go because I’m not over you, yada yada.” I grin to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I bet he’ll beg
me
to go out with Wade.”

“That’s evil. I love it.” Reed chuckles again. “Text me if it’s a go. Wade can pick you up at seven. He’ll sneak you in here and then drop you back at the hotel before curfew.”

“What’s in it for Wade?” I ask suspiciously. When Reed hesitates, I know I’m right to be distrustful. “Oh no—what did you promise him?”

“Val,” Reed admits. “I told him you’d talk to her about forgiving him.”

I stifle a sigh. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“They hooked up this weekend,” he points out.

“Yeah, and she was kicking herself for it afterward.” Her exact words had been
I’m such a stupid stupid-face!
“She doesn’t want to be one of Wade’s girl toys.”

“She’s not,” he assures me. “Seriously, I’ve
never
seen Wade Carlisle go to this much trouble for a chick. He really likes her.”

“Are you just saying that so we can see each other tonight?”

“No way. Honest, babe. You know I’d never put your best friend in a situation where she’s going to get hurt. Wade wants to make it right. He feels like shit for the way he treated her.”

I lean against the vanity and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Let me call her and see if she’s willing to talk to him. If she says no, then we have to respect her wishes.” Even if it means that Wade backs out tonight. But I’m hoping he’ll still help us even if Val isn’t part of the equation.

Reed’s tone turns serious. “Try to make it happen, babe. I…” There’s a pause. “I really need to see you.”

An alarm bell goes off in my head as we hang up. Is he breaking up with me?

No, of course not. That’s crazy.

But then why did he sound so upset just now? And why didn’t he try to track me down at school today?

Pushing aside my fears, I call Val.

V
al agrees
. I’m a bit shocked by how willing she is to talk to Wade, but I guess maybe she doesn’t regret this weekend’s hook-up as much as she let on at school earlier.

Now it’s just a matter of working on Steve, which I waste no time doing. I wander past the bedroom he’s using as his office, purposely walking very, very slowly as I pretend to talk into the phone.

“I’m not ready for that!” I say loudly. “Ugh. I’m hanging up now. Later, Val.”

Then I heave the biggest, most exaggerated sigh.

Sure enough, the aggravated sound lures Steve out of his office. “Everything okay?” he asks in concern.

“It’s fine,” I mutter. “Val is just being crazy.”

A smile plays on his lips. “And why’s that?”

“She wants me to—” I deliberately cut myself off. Then I grumble. “It’s nothing. Forget it. I’m going to the kitchen. I’m thirsty.”

Steve chuckles and follows me downstairs, which was what I was hoping for. “You can talk to me, you know. I’m your father—I’ve got wisdom to dispense. Lots of it.”

I roll my eyes. “Now you sound like Val. She was trying to offer me her ‘wisdom,’ too.” I air-quote that.

“I see. What about?”

“It’s guy stuff, okay?” I wander toward the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “You don’t want to hear it.”

His eyes instantly narrow. “You’re not seeing Reed anymore?” It’s voiced as a question, but we both know he means it as a statement.

“No. That’s over.” I tighten my jaw. “Thanks to you.”

“Ella—”

“Whatever, Steve. I get it. You don’t want me seeing Reed. And I’m not. You won, all right?”

He lets out a frustrated breath. “It’s not a matter of winning or losing. It’s about me wanting to protect you.” He braces both hands on the granite countertop. “That boy might go to prison, Ella. That’s not something either of us can ignore.”

“Whatever,” I mumble again. Then I straighten my shoulders and paste on a defiant look. “But me dating the school quarterback? I bet you’d be all over that, right?” I make a noise of disgust. “Of course you would, because it’s not Reed.”

He blinks. “I don’t understand.”

“Wade Carlisle asked me to go to a movie tonight,” I say darkly. “That’s what Val and I were arguing about. She thinks I should go, but I said no.”

Steve’s forehead gets a deep groove in it. His gaze becomes thoughtful, then shrewd. “You said no,” he echoes.

“Yes, I said no!” I slam my water bottle on the counter. “I’m still into Reed, in case you haven’t figured it out.”

That calculated gleam in his eyes deepens. “Sometimes the best way to get over someone is to go out with someone else.”

“Great advice.” I shrug. “Too bad I’m not doing that. I’m not interested in Wade Carlisle.”

“Why not? He comes from a good family. He’s part of a school team.” Steve lifts a brow. “He’s not being investigated for murder.”

He’s a man-ho. He’s interested in my best friend. He’s Reed’s best friend
.

There are a million reasons why I
shouldn’t
go out with Wade, but for Steve’s sake, I pretend to consider it. “I guess. But I hardly know him.”

“Isn’t that the point of a date?” he counters. “To get to know someone?” Steve clasps both hands and laces his fingers together. “I think you should go.”

“Since when?” I challenge. “You don’t want me dating, remember?”

“No, I don’t want you dating Reed,” he corrects. “Look, Ella. I love the Royal boys to death—I’m their godfather, for God’s sake—but they’ve been screwed up ever since their mother died. They don’t have good heads on their shoulders, and I don’t think they’re the best influence for you, all right?”

I stare back defiantly.

“And while I don’t think you need to be in a serious relationship at your age, I’d rather that you experienced what else was out there before you declared your undying love to Reed Royal,” Steve says dryly.

I still don’t answer.

“Wade Carlisle… He wants to take you to a movie, you said?”

Reluctantly, I nod.

“Tonight?”

Another nod.

Steve nods back. “As long as you’re back by eleven, I’m fine with you going.”

Oh, so it’s eleven now? Funny how the curfew was
ten
when I was with Reed.
Am
with Reed. We’re still together, for Pete’s sake. Steve just doesn’t know that.

“I don’t know…” I feign reluctance again.

“Think about it,” he encourages as he edges to the doorway. “If you decide to go, let me know.”

I wait until he’s out of the room before letting my smile surface. It takes a huge effort not to break out in a happy dance. Instead, I slip my phone out of my pocket and text Reed.

It’s a go. Tell W to be here at 7.