by Liv Reid
“Of course I had no idea.” I would never let anyone attack her.
“Here, let me help you up. Can you stand? We should get out of here before they come back.” She slips her arm under mine and helps me to my feet.
I groan. Everything hurts. We start walking down the hallway. I can only open my eyes partially, but I’m able to see we are heading back to the main foyer.
I feel like death, but her tight little body pressing against me is helping distract me from the pain. I don’t want to lean on her too much, but I can’t help it. She supports me, and even though I can tell she’s struggling a bit with my weight and her ankles, she doesn’t complain.
We make it back to the main area, and I hear—rather than see—people gasp. We must look like quite a sight right now. The room has gone quiet, but everyone soon recovers from their shock and rushes over to us. Violet continues to hold on to me firmly.
Through slitted eyes I see a large guy in a suit come over. When he gets closer, I realize it’s Heston.
“I’ll take him to the hospital,” he says.
“No,” Violet protests in a strong voice. It’s insanely hot.
Heston steps closer so no one else can hear him.
“He’s my family, not yours. I’m taking him to the hospital without you, and that’s final.”
I’m too injured to argue at the moment, so when Heston puts my other arm over his shoulder and pulls me away from her, I can’t stop him. She reluctantly lets me go. I feel the pull of her hand as she holds onto my jacket before her fingers slip away.
He leads me outside. We get into a waiting car and pull away from the building.
We are a good distance from the school, speeding down the highway, when I suddenly realize where we are, and ask, “Are we in a limo?”
Heston ignores me. He’s staring out the window with his chin in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says.
“For what?” I ask, but I get a sinking feeling in my gut.
He doesn’t turn to look at me.
I feel like my world is spinning upside down—and not just because I’m about to puke from the pain.
I watch him shrug as he fades in and out of the light from each streetlight we pass.
“You got caught up in Plan B.”
I grab onto the leather seats to keep upright. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
33
V
I couldn’t sleep all night, I was too worried about Logan. I keep texting him, but he’s not answering. In desperation, I even got Heston’s number from Everly, who got it from Rogan, and texted him asking if Logan was ok, but he never responded. Not surprising.
After Logan left, the cops showed up. Someone must have called them when they saw us stagger into the room. They did a sweep of the entire building but didn’t find any trace of the guys who had attacked us. I gave my statement and told them everything I knew. The paramedics checked me over and said I didn’t have any major injuries, so I was fine to go home.
Like I thought, my ankles are sprained and I have a black eye developing, but that’s the worst of it. My injuries are nothing compared to Logan’s—at the thought of him, my heart clenches painfully. He saved me. Whoever those guys were and whoever they worked for, he clearly didn’t know anything about it. I wish I knew how he was doing. I’d give anything to be able to talk to him right now.
I’m in the washroom brushing my teeth when I hear my phone ring in the other room. I race out, toothbrush still stuck in my mouth and toothpaste dribbling down my chin. It could be news about Logan. I grab the phone and look at the caller ID. It’s just the lawyer who helped me pro bono when my dad died and I accused Mr. Aston of murder.
My heart sinks in disappointment, but then I realize if she’s calling me, something must have happened in the case. I answer the phone with a painful, constricted feeling in my chest.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Violet Miller?” the familiar voice asks.
I remember that voice from hours and hours of conversations we had regarding my case. She was so generous and sweet with her time. She really helped me out when I needed a reassuring person in my life the most. She was there for me when I was completely alone.
“Hi, Sandy. How are you?”
“Violet, I’m well. How are you? It’s nice to speak with you again.”
I remember that warm voice. The one that told me I needed to say I saw Mr. Aston do it, otherwise he was going to walk away a free man. There wasn’t any other concrete evidence against him except my testimony.
I couldn’t tell the police I had a bad migraine at the time and my vision was blurry. I couldn’t say I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of what I saw. She told me I needed to say I saw him, otherwise a murderer was going to get away. It was too late for my dad, but I had to protect anyone else Mr. Aston was going to victimize.
I was 99.9% sure of what I saw, and besides, my dad had always told me that if anything ever happened to him, it would be Mr. Aston’s doing. Also, who else would have been in the backyard that evening who was exactly Mr. Aston’s size and who wanted my dad dead?
Everyone loved my father. He was a sweet and hardworking man who was friendly with everyone. He would give you the shirt off his back. He had no enemies—except for John Aston.
I did the right thing.
Suddenly, what Logan said flashes through my mind. He was there. He saw what happened too. Did I get it wrong? Please, no.
“Nice to speak with you as well,” I croak into the phone. “How are you?”
“I’m well. Violet, the reason I’m calling is that I have some good news. They’ve caught him. They’ve caught John Aston, and he’s on his way back to the USA.”
34
L
I need to see her and make sure she’s ok. I walk stiffly up the stairs to her dorm room. I lost my phone somehow in the fight, must have fallen out of my pocket, so I can’t even call her. I need to see her in person though. I need to see her face.
I knock on the door and take a deep breath. So much happened between the two of us in the last couple of days that I don’t know how to feel about her—and I don’t know how she feels about me.
I was in the hospital for two days, and my face looks awful. I’ve never been vain, but then again I’ve never had to worry about what I look like. Now I look like I’ve been run over by a car, and I hope I don’t scare her.
Everly eventually answers the door. When she sees my face her eyes go wide.
“Yikes. Ow,” she says.
I shrug and then wince. “Yeah. It looks worse than it feels.”
“Well, then it must feel pretty bad.”
“Is Violet here?” I look over her shoulder into the empty room.
This is where Violet lives. I realize I’ve never seen her place before, only the outside of her building, and I want to go in and look around. I want to see all the things she chose. Everything she surrounds herself with every day. I want to know more about her.
“Sorry, you just missed her.”
“Where is she?”
Everly hesitates and looks at my face for a long moment. She sighs, and then tells me, “She went to the library to study. She said she was going stir-crazy here and needed a change of scenery.”
“Thanks.”
I head outside and walk over to the library. The cold wind stings the cuts on my face.
When I get there I have to search all over before I find her. I spot just the briefest glimpse of her back, but I would recognize that hair anywhere. She’s hidden in the back of the building in a private study booth.
Suddenly, I’m nervous. I’ve thought about nothing but her for the last two days. But now that she’s here, right in front of me, I don’t know what to say.
I realize I’m just standing here looking like a creep. I shake my head in annoyance. Don’t be a pussy.
I walk over, but before I can tap her on the shoulder she senses someone is behind her. She jumps up a
nd spins around, looking terrified, and I curse myself for scaring her. When she realizes it’s me, her expression changes to relief, then without thinking she throws herself forward to hug me.
I reach my arms out to catch her, but she stops herself when she sees me wince. She thinks I’m in too much pain to be touched, but the pain of not having her in my arms is a million times worse.
Her face scrunches up in sympathy at how mine looks. “Are you ok?”
I shrug—but that hurts, and I wince again. “I’ve been better, but I’m ok.”
She takes me in with her eyes, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I would give anything to be able to read her mind.
There’s an awkward silence between us, and I break it by asking, “Studying?”
“Having trouble studying,” she admits with a shrug. “Have a lot on my mind. Your dad was caught in Ecuador and is on his way back to the U.S. right now. But I’m sure you know that.”
I nod. My mother told me, the one time she came to visit me in the hospital. She was my only visitor. After Heston left the first night, he didn’t come back again.
A moment passes between us. My dad coming back is such a major thing for both of us. It’s the main reason for all this animosity between her and I. It has impacted our lives so much it’s hard to put all of what this means into words. So we just stare at each other.
“I have to tell you something,” I finally say.
I can’t keep it in any longer. I know I shouldn’t be telling her this because she could use it against my family, but I can’t help it. She needs to know—I need her to know. I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life if I don’t tell her.
I’m about to tell her about “Plan B”, but she stops me.
“I have to tell you something. I lied.”
I’m taken by surprise, and I ask, “About what?” Before realization crashes down on me like a ton of bricks, and I feel unsteady on my feet.
I can’t believe she said it. I’ve always known she lied, but a part of me didn’t want to believe it. A part of me wanted to believe in her—even though I knew it was impossible because I was there, and I saw everything. Knowing something and hearing someone finally admit it are two very different things. The heart tries to lie to the head.
“And the guilt has been eating me up all of these years. I had a migraine when I went into the backyard and saw my father get shot. I get bad migraines once in a while, and sometimes they cause my vision to be blurry. My lawyer told me I needed to say I actually saw your dad do it otherwise he was going to walk away a free man. I thought I was telling the truth. I was so sure it was him. My vision may have been blurry, but who else would have been in your backyard that was your father’s height and also wanted my dad dead? Your dad was awful to mine, and my dad told me if anything ever happened to him John Aston was to blame. I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
There are tears in her eyes threatening to spill down her cheeks. The man in me hates seeing her cry. I want to go comfort her, but I can’t. She just admitted to lying about my dad. She’s the reason he’s been on the run for the last four years.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Me too,” I choke out.
I feel like I’m drowning. All I want to do is hold her, comfort her, find solace in her—but I can’t. I turn around and leave before this destroys me completely.
35
V
I walk into the courtroom and immediately start sweating profusely. My stomach is in knots, and I feel like I’m about to faint. I don’t want to do this. The left side of the room is completely packed, while the right side—my side—is completely empty except for my lawyer, Sandy, who’s sitting at our table at the front of the room.
Everly wanted to come, but she had an exam. She spoke with the professor to see if she could reschedule it, but he said no. She decided she was just going to skip the exam and retake the course next year, so she could come and support me, but I couldn’t let her do that. And besides, I had faced this whole thing by myself for the last four years, I could face it alone for another day. But I had to admit it would have been nice to have at least one person supporting me besides my lawyer.
Everyone turns as I walk in. All the eyes on the left are full of anger and disgust. I see the Astons as well as dozens of people who I assume are their friends and supporters. Mrs. Aston and Heston are sitting right at the front, behind Mr. Aston.
John Aston. It’s shocking to see him again after thinking about him so much for all of these years. Over time, in my head he’s been built up to be this evil caricature of a human being. One that’s ten feet tall and practically breathes fire. But seeing him in front of me again, he immediately shrinks back down to just a man.
He looks the same as I remember except a little older, a little more grey in his dark blond hair. He’s a tall man with a strong jaw. He carries himself with an air of confidence, like he rules the world even though he’s been on the run for the last four years. I realize suddenly he looks a lot like Heston. Logan takes after his mom more, but he doesn’t look that similar to her either. He doesn’t seem to fit in to his family.
Mr. Aston turns around to look at me as I walk in, and his glare stops me in my tracks. His look is filled with such disdain that it makes me feel three inches tall. He makes me feel like the trailer trash everyone tells me I am.
He is surrounded by five lawyers, all impeccably dressed in designer suits and intimidating as hell. No doubt he bought the best lawyers money can buy—five of them, no less. Meanwhile, I spent my last thirty dollars on a suit jacket to wear over my old blue dress so that I at least look a bit credible.
One person I notice is missing. I can’t see Logan’s handsome face at all in the crowd. I haven’t seen him in weeks, which is probably for the best—even though it hurts like hell. It would have never worked between the two of us, there’s just too much baggage there, too much pain. Not to mention the fact that we come from entirely different worlds and have nothing in common. It’s for the best.
As I walk down the aisle, Heston and his mother get up and come over to greet me. Oh no, what horribly mean thing are they going to say to me? They’ve already done enough.
On the night of the end of term party, they tried to get me kicked out of school. They called the dean and told him they were no longer funding my education and that I needed to leave the college immediately. Luckily for me, the administration told them they can’t do that. The Astons already paid for me to attend a full semester and they can’t get a refund.
We are only a couple of weeks away from Christmas so the semester is practically over, anyway. In January I don’t know what I’m going to do. I either have to find a hell of a lot of money I don’t have or leave.
My marks so far have been good, especially considering I’ve been out of school for such a long time. I’ve worked so hard only for it all to be taken away. What a waste.
Heston and his mom stop directly in front of me, so I’m forced to stop and talk to them. My stomach clenches, but I remind myself nothing can happen to me here. They can’t attack me in a court of law, surrounded by people and with three police officers standing in the corner.
They pretend to greet me so people watching will think that’s what they are doing. They want everyone to think they are taking the high road and being nice to Mr. Aston’s false accuser. They are so desperate to have people think highly of them. It must be exhausting to always be “on”, always pretending to be something you aren’t.
After greeting me, Mrs. Aston starts, “Violet, we are taking away your school funding—”
“You already did,” I cut her off.
She’s annoyed at being interrupted but tries to hide it. “But we are willing to reinstate it if you tell the court you lied. That Mr. Aston didn’t shoot your father.”
I’m already going to tell the court that I lied, but not because they are asking me to.
“Consider it carefully,” Hesto
n adds. There’s disdain in his narrow brown eyes and I realize where he gets it from. It’s the exact same look as Mr. Aston’s.
They both walk back to their seats in the front row, and I quickly walk the rest of the way down the aisle. I push the hip-high swinging door and join my lawyer at our table. I’ve never actually been in court before. My dad’s case never went to trial because the main suspect was on the run. This place is intimidating as hell. We don’t have a jury yet, today is just a day for all parties to meet with the judge—who hasn’t come into the room yet.
“How are you doing?” Sandy asks as I sit down. “What did they want?” She motions towards Mrs. Aston and Heston with distaste.
“To pay for my schooling if I agree to say Mr. Aston didn’t do it.”
“What?!” she hisses. “They can’t do that. That is totally unethical. We can have them removed from the courtroom if you’d like?”
“No, it’s ok. It doesn’t matter.”
She’s still incensed on my behalf, but I’m not that upset. I expected as much from them, and besides, it doesn’t change what I’m going to do, anyway.
The judge walks in, and we all stand. She says a few words and then we all sit down again.
Just before the hearing starts, the doors to the courtroom open. We all turn to look at who it is.
Logan strides into the room. He’s wearing a black suit and his dark hair is swept back. Seeing him again for the first time in weeks, I’m reminded of how unbelievably hot he is.
He walks down the aisle and up to the front. All eyes are glued to his tall, muscular frame. To everyone’s great surprise, instead of slipping into the empty seat next to his mom, he slides into the front row on my side. There’s an audible gasp in the room. All three of the Astons on the other side look shocked—so do I.
He’s right behind me, and when he sits down our eyes meet. Something powerful passes between us. Those hazel eyes that used to haunt me with their hateful expression now look at me with something else, something undefinable. Warmth blooms inside of me.
