#Heart (Hashtag #6) (32 page)

Ivy

I knocked on the door and waited.

My stomach was in knots, and I knew I probably looked a mess. I’d run out of the house without any makeup on and my hair just barely brushed through. I was dressed in a pair of chocolate-colored leggings and an oversized mint-colored hoodie with fur around the hood. Beneath it was Braeden’s Wolfpack T-shirt—I’d slept in it and just threw on some comfy clothes when I rolled out of bed this morning because I wanted to go get some juice.

Was I wearing a bra?

I’d never tell.

I was still in shock over everything that happened this morning. The way everyone just stood around without saying a word. I couldn’t just sit. I had to act.

This wasn’t somewhere I wanted to be.

I
needed
to be here.

I was determined to fight for Braeden, just like he’d fought for me so many times before.

I thought back to all those nights he slept on the floor outside our bedroom door just in case I needed him. Even if I lived to be a hundred, that knowledge would always melt my heart.

And as I stood here at the door of my once-best friend, it also strengthened my resolve.

The door opened and Missy’s dark head appeared. Clearly, she’d still been in bed. She was dressed in pajamas and her hair was rumpled.

“I need your help,” I said without pause.

Her body jerked upright and her eyes went wide. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting to see me. Or hear those words out of my mouth.

But I didn’t have time for games. The truth was I did need her, and she owed me.

She owed us all.

“Ivy.”

I nodded. “Let me in.”

She pulled the door wide, and I stepped inside. Her room looked like it always did. Gray and yellow with pops of white. The covers on her bed were shoved aside and the pillows were all askew, and one bore the dent of her head.

I stood in the center of the room, not really sure what to do with myself.

How far we’d come.

At one time, I would have flopped right down on her bed and made myself at home. But she was a stranger to me now.

I glanced at the bed where her roommate was lying, scrolling through her phone.

“Would you give us a minute?” Missy asked.

I smiled sweetly when the girl looked at me.

“Sure. Want a coffee?”

“Sure, thanks,” Missy said.

The girl looked at me, and I wrinkled my nose. “No.”

“You say no to coffee?” Missy asked when the roommate was gone.

I shrugged. I didn’t come here to talk about my tastes, and I wasn’t going to tell her about the baby. The way she was, it would probably send her into some wild jealous rage.

“I need your help,” I said again.

“Why would I help you?”

I didn’t even laugh. I just looked at her, dead calm. “Because you owe me and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly need me for.” She sniffed.

At least she didn’t try to deny she was a scallywag.

Progress? Nah. But at least it gave me hope she’d do what I wanted.

“It’s for Braeden.” I dropped his name like an atomic bomb.

In a way, he was.

To the friendship I once had with Missy.

Of course, it really wasn’t him that blew things up. It was her. He was just who she used as an excuse.

Her gray eyes flared. Even after all these months, she still had a soft spot for him. Love? I didn’t like to think about that. Besides, I wasn’t really sure she was capable of loving anyone but herself.

But she definitely felt something for him, and I was going to use it.

“What’s wrong with Braeden?” she asked softly.

God, I hated hearing her say his name. I swallowed down that reaction and took a steadying breath. I knew she knew what happened the night Zach died. I also knew Braeden had been here to accuse her of the panty trick. It was the reason he knew Zach was lurking around, because Missy broke down and told him.

So because the BuzzBoss knew probably a lot more than even I did, I didn’t bother trying to explain.

“Robert Bettinger is filing charges on Monday morning against Braeden for manslaughter.”

She gasped. “What!”

“So help me God, if I read this on the Buzzfeed,” I growled.

“I won’t do that,” she snapped.

“You better not, or I will bury you at this school.”

She glared at me, a glint coming into her eyes. I stepped forward and glared back. I had a hell of a lot more at stake here, and I meant this. I would take her down. She’d never be able to show her face in the entire state if she hurt Braeden with this information.

She must have sensed my total intent, because she nodded and then said, “But he didn’t kill Zach.”

“No. He didn’t. But Robert is so grief stricken he can’t think straight. And he seems to think ruining Braeden’s entire career will make him feel better.”

“His career?”

I sighed. “I know you know he was put in the draft for the NFL.”

She glanced away. Yeah. Missy still kept tabs on him.

The little bitch.

“If he gets arrested, everything changes.”

She nodded. “What does this have to do with me?”

I told her.

Her eyes burned with interest, and even a little satisfaction.

“You have what I need, don’t you?” I asked.

She nodded.

Hope took hold inside me, and I clung to it.

“So what’s in it for me?” she asked when I was done talking.

“Nothing,” I deadpanned. I wasn’t giving her shit. Then I relented… a little. “It’s a chance to make up for some of the hurt you’ve caused. I know you still… have feelings for Braeden. Don’t let him go down for something he doesn’t deserve.”

It killed me that she was the one that had the power to help him. I wished I never had to see her face again.

This wasn’t about me. It was about B.

He told me he’d do anything for me. I told him the feeling was mutual.

This was me proving it.

She thought about it for a long minute, and I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I stood there and waited, holding my breath.

“Give me a second to change,” she said.

“You’ll do it?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said, a sly smile forming on her lips. “What’s good about being the BuzzBoss if you can’t take advantage of the power?”

Ew, she was slimy.

But right now, slimy was just what I needed.

Romeo

Pretentious.

That’s the word that came to mind when I pulled up the driveway of Robert Bettinger’s estate.

It was a large white colonial-style house with a long curved driveway. Sure, I knew he made good money and was a successful lawyer, and sure, everyone liked nice things. But there was an ostentatious vibe about this place that smacked a man in the face when he arrived.

We’re better than you.

I almost felt sorry for Zach because he no doubt felt the pressure from just living in a place like this. Pressure to live up to the image his father seemed to desperately want.

There was a black Mercedes and a BMW parked near the front door. Both cars looked ritzy and kind of somber. It made me a little too happy to park the lime-green muscle of my car right beside them.

After the engine was off, I got out and stretched a little. B landed a couple good hits this morning. I hoped he was feeling the ones I gave him just like I was.

It had been worth it, though. Seeing him just accept his fate, become a mere shell of the asshole I knew he was, had been scarier than anything my father was saying. He needed a good reminding of who he was. So I gave it to him.

I also gave him a chance to take some of his anger out on me.

That’s what brothers were for.

In the back of my mind, I wondered about Ivy. I hadn’t expected any less of a reaction from her this morning. It was pretty on point with how I felt. I just held it in.

But still. She was pregnant and scared for the father of her baby. I didn’t know where she was or what she was doing, and I worried about her.

I knew Braeden was probably worried, too.

As I walked up to the front door, I shot her a quick text.

We’re all worried. Me included. Call me.

I hoped I’d get an immediate reply, but none came. I sent the screen dark and shoved it back in my coat. Before I could even knock on the door, it swung open.

Robert stood there in a pair of navy-blue jogging pants with silver stripes down the sides. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a blue zip-up jacket over it that matched the pants.

Was this some eighties workout video? Or was this his further attempt at projecting an air of superiority.

“Did I interrupt your workout?” I couldn’t help but ask.

The look he gave me was bewildered. “What?”

“Nothing,” I said and inwardly laughed. Yep. He just thought the outfit made him look rich.

“What are you doing here, Roman?” He sniffed. His hair was combed and his face was shaven. It was quite a contrast to the last few times I’d seen him. He seemed a little more together this morning, a little less like he was falling apart.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing…

Good thing = maybe he would see reason.

Bad thing = maybe he was putting himself back together so he could take Braeden apart.

“I came to talk to you,” I said.

“I don’t think we have anything to say to one another.”

“I think we do.”

He moved to shut the door in my face. I slapped my palm on the wood and pushed.

He looked at me wide-eyed.

“What’s the matter, Bettinger? Afraid you might not like what I have to say?”

A man like him couldn’t resist a challenge.

He let me in.

The wide foyer was spotless, just like I knew it would be. Everything was austere and in its place. My parents had a big house, but it wasn’t like this. Their place was a home. This was a museum.

I followed him into a formal sitting room to the left of the wide front door. The furnishings were dark—dark wood, dark leather—and had a very traditional, masculine feel.

I didn’t sit down. I preferred to stand when I wanted to tower over the people I wanted something from. Plus, there was no way in hell I’d give him the satisfaction of looking down on me.

“Say what you came to say and then get out. I have a case to prepare.”

“The one against Braeden you mean?” I replied coolly.

“Your father works fast.” His voice was just as cool.

“Did you think he wouldn’t?”

“It’s his right.” He shrugged a shoulder and sat in a leather club chair.

I wandered over to some ugly-ass painting and pretended to look at it. “Is it your right to destroy someone else’s life because of the way your son lived his?”

“If you came here to trash talk my son, I suggest you leave,” he said hotly.

I turned and looked at him. “You knew damn well when you let me in this wasn’t some visit where I was going to shit rainbows and lie to you about Zach.”

“I won’t listen to you disparage his memory.”

“I don’t have to do that. His own actions speak for themselves.”

“He was sick,” his father said, the first hint of anything other than steadfast denial I’d heard from him.

I’d always suspected that. “What was wrong with him?”

He glanced up at my tone. It was a lot different than the one I’d been using before—kinder, less accusatory.

“He never had an easy life, my son. That was my fault. I did all the wrong things and tried to pretend too long that everything was fine when it wasn’t.”

“You tried to help him at the end. You sent him to that hospital.”

“I didn’t know he was so far gone, so much like her, that he was able to fool the doctors into letting him out for a little while. If only I’d known. Everything would be different.”

I almost felt bad for Zach.

But this guy? Zach’s father?

I felt downright sorry for him.

He was clearly living in deep regret over the things he thought he should have done. I probably should have gone, just left him in peace.

I couldn’t do that.

“Who was he like?” I pressed.

“His mother. She was severely bipolar. It… it wasn’t a healthy environment to grow up in.”

Zach was bipolar. It explained so much. How else could he be one person (the charming frat president) one minute and someone else the next (a psycho douche)?

“You blame yourself,” I said, coming around and sitting in a nearby chair.

“When you become a parent someday, you’ll understand. It’s a father’s job to protect his children, even when it’s hard. I turned a blind eye for too long, and now he’s dead.”

“And you want to punish Braeden for your mistakes.”

His eyes flared and anger gathered around him like a heavy coat. “Braeden will be punished for allowing my son to die.”

I shook my head sadly. “You’re a good lawyer, Mr. Bettinger. My father has always respected you, and your family name has been highly regarded in my home my entire life.”

He looked up, gleaning a little satisfaction from the praise.

See? Pretentious.

“You’re a smart man. You know full well my father is going to be able to prove reasonable doubt that Braeden didn’t kill your son that night.”

He glared at me.

Oh, yes. He knew.

I smiled. And now he knew I knew.

“So you aren’t doing this to see justice served. You’re doing this to ruin Braeden’s life to hopefully make up for the fact that you never did right by your son.”

He leapt out of his chair with flared nostrils.

I leaned back and looked up. “Maybe you think this is one way you can do right by your son. To make sure people know he wasn’t the reason he died, but it was because someone else killed him. After everything,” I added, soft. “You’re still worried about your status.”

“You need to leave.” He huffed.

“Drop this. Don’t file those charges on Monday. Let this go. Let your son rest in peace.”

He jerked back like I punched him. “How dare you lecture me about giving my son peace! You have no idea what his life was like!”

“Which is exactly why you need to let his death have amity.”

Amity. That was a fifty-dollar word. Rim was rubbing off on me.

“You don’t want
amity
for my son,” he spat. “You just want to save face. You’re the one worried about status, about that football career.”

“You’re wrong,” I said hard and stood. He had to look up to maintain eye contact. “I could give two shits about my status. I stopped caring about that a long time ago. And my football career is solid. I already have a contract. It’s ironclad. What happens with Braeden won’t affect that.”

“Then why are you here?” he ground out. “Why are you pushing me?”

“Because I’m protecting my family just like you’re trying to protect yours.”

“Get out.” He started out of the room toward the entry hall. I followed along behind him at a much less hurried pace.

“Drop the charges.”

He flung open the door and turned. “I will never drop those charges, and nothing you can say will ever make me change my mind.”

“You will after you hear what I have to say.”

I looked past Robert and onto the front porch where Ivy stood, filling the doorway. Her eyes were determined, and her back was straight.

I smiled.

“Seems we had the same idea, princess,” I drawled, fucking impressed she’d come here. To the house belonging to the father of the man who raped her. And she did it for my brother.

Her eyes flickered to mine. “I saw your car outside. What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are.”

Her blue eyes softened for a second when she smiled at me. I winked.

“Well, let me save you the trouble,” Robert snapped at her. “No!”

“I think you better let us in,” a new voice joined in as someone stepped up behind Ivy.

I drew back. Ivy brought Missy?

What. The. Fuck?

Ivy glanced at me.
Trust me,
she said with her eyes.

I nodded once.

Robert seemed just as surprised as me that there was now not one, but two women filling the doorway. Before he could recover, Ivy marched inside with Missy hot on her heels.

“You’re going to listen to what I have to say, Mr. Bettinger,” Ivy intoned. “Because if you don’t, the entire world is going to know exactly what kind of man your son really was.”

His face blanched. Ivy stepped forward, grabbed the door from his hand, and slammed it closed.