You’re not forcing me. You’re right, what I need to tell you is better said in person. It’s just hard to share. I’ll need you to be patient with me.
So . . . I had a good time last night. I was hoping we could see each other again soon.
Like real soon.
As in what are you doing tonight? ?
She’s getting bold. Only a few minutes ago her texts would have made me smile and I would’ve agreed to see her, but now with Lisa sniffing around, I’m feeling nothing but pressure. This is a reminder that what I’m doing is all sorts of screwed up. I shouldn’t see Katie right now.
What if Lisa wants to talk to her again? Hell, what if she wants to reunite me and Katie? Talk about a story—one that she won’t get, but still. And not that I think Lisa would recognize me if we were ever to meet—I look totally different than my fifteen-year-old self, so different that even Katie doesn’t recognize me. But Lisa’s like a fucking bloodhound and she’d probably sniff me out, no problem.
That woman scares the shit out of me.
I need to back off. Back away from Katie and put the brakes on this—whatever I’m doing with her. I don’t want Katie to think I’m doing this because of what she’s trying to reveal to me. That would devastate her.
How else can I handle this, though? I’ve dug myself a hole and can’t climb out of it. Most of the time I don’t want to. But that’s me being selfish. Dealing with what my father did to her, listening to her confession and having to pretend I know nothing about her past . . .
I don’t know if I can do it.
Staring at my cellphone screen, I force myself to come up with an excuse. It’s what’s best. I should let her down gently and eventually fade from her life. She’ll move on and eventually forget all about me.
But I’ll never be able to forget her.
I hate to tell you this, but I have another big project due in a few days and I need to bust my ass to get it done.
Not necessarily a lie but not completely true, either. It’s not due till the end of the month.
Oh, I understand. I have a paper I need to write for school anyway. So I guess that means you’re busy tonight?
Yeah, I am. I’m sorry. I’d really like to see you again and I know we need to talk, Katie, but it might take a few days.
It should take fucking forever if I were being truthful with myself.
She sends me a reply filled with various emoji accompanied by the words Maybe some other time, and I crack a smile.
Though it disappears in an instant. I hate what I’m doing. It’s all a bunch of fucked-up trickery. My motives are selfish, my behavior is shady, and she’s blissfully ignorant of all of it. I’m living a lie. But I’ve lived a lie for so long you’d think I’d be used to it by now.
Turns out I’m not.
“Your father wants to talk to you.”
I shook my head, pissed at this stupid lawyer who was supposed to be watching over me instead approaching me with the craziest statement I’ve ever heard.
“Tell that asshole to go to hell,” I muttered, feeling on edge. I was here at the courthouse to testify against the bastard, not have old home week and reunite with him. He’d probably try to tear my throat out if I got too close. He had to be furious with me. I was going on the stand for the prosecution.
His own son. His only flesh-and-blood relative in this world was speaking against him.
“Will.” My father’s lawyer gave a deep sigh and shook his head. “Just give him a few minutes. Please. It’ll make him look like more of a family man.”
“Family man.” I snorted. The last thing I’d ever call my father is a family man. “Sure he is.” So the jury wavers and eventually decides to let a killer free. I don’t think I could live with myself if that happened. I turned to look at my lawyer. “I shouldn’t do this, huh.”
“You shouldn’t.” He paused and took a deep breath.
My father’s lawyer looked at me. “He misses you, Will. He told me so himself. Just give him this chance,” he pleaded, his eyes watery, like he might break out in tears.
Give me a break.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Bullshit. What does he want to talk about anyway? How much he hates me for turning against him? Maybe offer up details about what exactly he did to those girls who died?”
“Will,” my lawyer chastised—I couldn’t even remember his name half the time—but I was just warming up.
“He may as well give me those details considering I supposedly worked with him, you know? I just didn’t want to get caught. That’s why I brought Katie Watts to the police station. So I’d look like a shining hero instead of a scumbag who likes to rape girls along with his father.”
“That’s enough.” I glanced up at my lawyer—his last name was Stone, and when I saw the steely look in his eyes, I couldn’t help but think his name was extra fitting. “My client is not willing to talk to Mr. Monroe.”