Carson opened his mouth but closed it. Several moments passed, and then he leaned forward, crossing his arms on the bar. “I’m going to be honest, okay? When you apologized before, I was like, whatever. Because it’s hard to believe that you really mean it based on my... past experience with you.”
I cringed and suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten so much. Ice cream curdled in my stomach. “I understand—”
“No. You don’t.” He met my stare. “Because I get that you really do feel bad. A couple of weeks ago? I’m not so sure. But you do now. And that matters. Okay? The past is in the past. It’s done. Let it die.”
Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, hearing it in his voice, some of the pressure lessened. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Carson nodded, and there was another stretch of silence between us.
“The detective stopped by after school,” I told him, staring at the mess in my bowl. “Dad got pissed, practically kicked him out.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “He didn’t like that Ramirez was asking me questions without him being there ... or a lawyer.” I glanced up, drawing in a deep breath. “Dad thinks I’m their number one suspect.”
His brows knitted. “What? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, since I was the last person to see her.”
“But no one knows if you were,” he argued, much to my relief. “Anyone could’ve been with you guys. And what happened to you two might not have been related. It could be a freak coincidence. An accident.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” I murmured, and then louder, “Anyway, who do you think would’ve been with us? I mean, if it wasn’t an accident.”
“You’re wondering who could’ve been with you two who would have wanted to ... hurt her? Or you?” He sat back, running a hand through his messy hair. “God, Sam, that’s a messed-up thing to even consider.”
“Tell me about it.” I started nibbling on my thumb but found that the nail had already been chewed down. “It could’ve been me for all I know.”
His brows shot up. “What? You? No. There’s no way.”
I made a face. “The old Sam sounded pretty capable of just about anything, and apparently Cassie and I had this weird friendship. Maybe we got into a fight and...”
“And what? You killed her?” He rolled his eyes, laughing. “There’s no way. Yeah, you had a mean streak, but you wouldn’t have hurt anyone. And that doesn’t explain how you got hurt.”
It didn’t, and for once, the impossibility of something was reassuring. I tucked my hair back. “Okay. If you had to pick someone, who would it be?”
He stared at me, dumbfounded. “Pick someone who is capable of killing? Jeez, I hope I don’t know anyone who is.”
“I know, but if you had to pick someone who would hurt Cassie, who would it be?”
Blinking, he looked away. “There’s a huge list of people who were angry with her, but to kill her? I don’t think so.”
“Carson...”
He cursed under his breath as he faced me. “Okay. There’s Trey. They had a shitty relationship. And then there are at least a hundred kids at school who probably fantasized about pushing her in front of a bus a time or two.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Nice.”
“Look, you don’t remember her, Sam. Cassie was a ... I’ll put in this way: she had very few good moments. She was terrible to kids who didn’t come from money, didn’t drive luxury cars or spend their summers on a yacht, which is freaking hilarious if you think about it, because she would have nothing if it weren’t for her mom’s father. Not only that, she was manipulative.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “Every month, she would pick a new target—a kid she’d pretend to want to be friends with, because they had something she needed. She’d be nice to them, and the rest of you would go along with it, and then once she had what she wanted, she’d publicly shame them one way or another. Once, she had the entire school believing Sandy Richards was a lesbian.”
Sandy was in my history class. Quiet girl. I liked her. “Who cares if she was a lesbian?”
“No one would, but Cassie made it sound like Sandy was obsessed with her and came on to her. Total bullshit, and I’m sure half the school knew that, but no one would go against Cassie.” Sitting back, he folded his arms. “Because no one would go against you, and everyone knew if they messed with Cassie, they were messing with you.”
The pressure was back, clamping down on my lungs. “Why do you think Cassie was like that?”
“Hell if I know, but she was ... she was messed up.” He turned his head and his jaw was working again. “Partied a little too hard sometimes ... and she’d just start crying and flipping out for no reason. Trey used to say it was daddy issues, but who knows.”
Daddy issues? I mulled that over, remembering that it appeared she had a father on the absentee list. Then I asked something I probably shouldn’t have. “Why did I act the way I did?”
He blinked again and his eyes widened. “Jesus, Sam, I wish I knew, but I don’t. Your parents were good to you. And so was Scott, and even though you changed when you started hanging out with Cassie, not everything can be blamed on her. You made those decisions.”
“I know.” I lowered my gaze. “Cassie and I were terrible together, huh?”
He blew out a long breath, and when I looked up, he was staring out the French doors. “It was weird, like two people coming together and bringing out the absolute worse in each other. If you guys had something on someone, you’d use it to your advantage. Ever the opportunists ... and there were a lot of people with a lot of reasons not to like you. But hurt you? That’s different.”
Shame was back, burning through me like acid. I took one last mouthful of melted ice cream, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. Carson glanced at me and then laughed softly.
“What?” I dropped the spoon in the bowl.
“You have ice cream on your chin.”
“I do?” I wiped at my chin. “Did I get it?”
Shaking his head, he reached over the bar and smoothed his thumb under my bottom lip. My chest rose quickly and my breath caught. His thumb stayed just under the corner of my mouth, but his fingers spread underneath my chin. They were calloused against my softer skin, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. Our eyes locked, and I waited for him to remove his hand, because surely the tiny smidgen of ice cream was gone by now, but he didn’t.
Instead, his thumb inched up, trailing across my bottom lip. I sucked in a breath, but like the one before, it got lost somewhere. A heady wave of warmth rolled through me.
I swallowed. “More ice cream?”
A lopsided grin stretched across his lips. “Sure.”
Part of my brain just clicked off. Placing my hands on the edge of the bar, I leaned forward and stopped thinking about everything other than the electric feeling he created with the simplest touch. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, but my body took the lead. My pulse thrummed, and my heart soared when his hand slid to my cheek.
This was wrong, but it also felt so incredibly right.
A throat cleared, and I jerked back, nearly falling off the stool. Much to my horror, Mom stood under a hanging fern, a full glass of red liquid in her hand. “It’s late, Carson,” she said, eyes and tone cold. “I think it’s time that you head home.”
Carson slid me a quick smile as he stood. “Sorry, Mrs. Franco, I didn’t notice the time.”
She nodded curtly.