Her Destiny (17 page)

Two p.m., longest day ever

T
he tension in the air of my truck cab is thick. Reverie and I have hardly spoken since we left her apartment and at first, I figured she was just worried about the weather.

Because Evan was right, it’s for shit. The moment we pulled onto the freeway the skies opened up and dumped rain on us. So heavy it became hard to see and traffic slowed to a crawl. Probably safer but frustrating as hell.

We’ve been on the road for almost two hours and we’re almost there, thank Christ. I’m anxious, feeling antsy after concentrating on the road for so long, and I’m dying to get out and stretch my legs.

Her silence is starting to freak me out. Is she having regrets? What if she doesn’t tell the cops the truth after all? Not that I think she’d come all this way just to screw me over but…

I don’t know. After dealing with Krista for so long it’s hard for me to wrap my brain around a girl wanting to actually help me, I guess.

We kissed when I came back from making the breakfast run but other than that, there’s been no real affection happening between us. She’s sitting in her seat and I’m sitting in mine and the space between us feels long. Like miles, oceans, galaxies long. She’s got her arms crossed in front of her and her face averted as she stares out the window, her gaze locked on the ocean as we pass by it.

The water is gray and swirling, capped white and turbulent. The storm is stirring everything up including my thoughts and I can hardly fucking stand it.

“Are you mad at me?” I finally ask, unable to take it anymore.

She turns to look at me, her arms still crossed in front of her chest, her expression incredulous. Relief trickles through my veins but I’m cautious until I hear her answer. “Why would you ask that?”

I shrug, feeling stupid for asking. “You’ve hardly talked to me.”

“You’ve hardly talked to me,” she returns.

A frustrated chuckle escapes me. “Driving in this shit weather is doing a number on me I guess.”

“And knowing I have to talk to the police and answer their questions is making me nervous,” she says softly. “It has nothing to do with you. I’m not mad at you.” She pauses. “Are you mad at me?”

“Hell, no,” I say vehemently. “I’m grateful you’re doing this for me.”

“I’m not doing anything but telling the truth.” Another pause, this one longer before she says, “Why did you not let me see you when I came by the jail?”

I withhold the frustrated sigh that wants to stream out of me. “I…I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“Like what? Like an innocent man being held against his will?”

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” I retort but damn it, her words stick with me because she’s right.

“No, I’m really not. Your refusing to see me broke my heart, Nick. I thought…I thought you hated me or that you were mad at me when I didn’t do anything. I—I don’t know, it was all so crazy around then and I didn’t understand what was happening.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again until you finally get it. I was trying to
protect
you. I didn’t want the cops to find out you were with me because of who you are, Reverie. You’re the daughter of a famous televangelist. They would’ve splashed my scandal all over the news and dragged you along with me.”

“But at least you wouldn’t have been a suspect any longer,” she says.

“Yeah, but your reputation would’ve been ruined.”

“My reputation was already ruined because of what my parents did. No one wants to talk to the Hales unless they can find out some juicy gossip. My mom spoke to the media at first because she was trying so hard to portray herself as the victim but after realizing all they were doing was vilifying her, she gave up.” Reverie shakes her head. “You tried to protect me for nothing, Nick. I hope you realize that.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad about that?” I ask, chancing a glance in her direction to find her studying me.

“I don’t know,” she says with a little shrug.

Damn. Females. They make no sense to me, even the ones I love.

I pull into town not fifteen minutes later and I head straight for the police station, not wanting to waste any time. Now I’m the one left confused. I don’t know what Reverie wants from me and I’m almost afraid to ask because I might not want to hear her answer. The push and pull going on between us is aggravating to say the least.

My conversation with Evan earlier this morning repeats in my head, no matter how hard I try to banish it.

She’s too young.

You’re too young.

She’s still in high school.

She has so much potential.

You live in a different city.

You come from two different worlds.

She has enough to deal with.

And so do you.

Your summer fling was meaningless. You both just got…caught up.

I protested only the last reason because what happened between Reverie and I over the summer was the farthest thing from meaningless. But whatever. Evan’s never been in love. He doesn’t know what it’s like.

“Is this okay?” I ask after I park the truck in front of the station. The rain is still coming down hard, hitting the windshield with rhythmic force, and she peers up at the imposing building in front of us, squinting. “That we came here first?”

“Yeah.” She presses her lips together. “I hope I say the right thing.”

“Just tell them the truth. That’s all they want to hear.”

“That detective wasn’t very nice.”

“He’s just pissed because he’d love to pin Krista’s murder on me.” That they have no other suspects makes me think Krista’s killer might’ve done this before. She hung out with all kinds of shady characters, especially the last few months of her life. It could’ve been anyone.

But it definitely wasn’t me.

“Does he hate you that much?”

“He just doesn’t have any other suspect. What they really hate is having an open murder case that they can’t solve. The town doesn’t like it either, imagining a murderer walking their streets.” Something I have close experience with. I’ve been considered a murderer in not just one but
two
separate cases.

I really need to get the hell out of this town.

“I can’t say that I blame them. But it’s not right that they seem to always blame you either.” Reverie shivers. “I don’t like how much it makes me sad, being here. It’s so different during the winter. Dark and cold and dreary.”

“Not always.” It’s brighter now that she’s here with me but I don’t say that. She’d probably just roll her eyes and tell me to stop anyway. “But yeah. It’s a different town when summer’s over and the tourists leave.”

“Michael left too, right? Do you still talk to him?” She flashes me a smile. “I miss him. He’s so goofy. He always made me laugh.”

“I do talk to him. We text a lot.” He’s coming home for Thanksgiving and I’ll be glad to see him. “He’s doing good.”

“How about Heather? Is he still with her?”

“Nah. That relationship ended the minute summer was over.” Michael hadn’t been too broken up about it. He’d known what he was dealing with going in—a summer fling, pure and simple.

Her smile fades. “Do you regret last summer and everything that happened?”

She’s changing subjects so quick I can hardly keep up. I scoot closer to her and grab her hands, squeezing them tight. “No. I don’t regret meeting you. I don’t regret spending time with you. I don’t regret any part of you, Reverie. The only thing I regret is what happened to Krista and how that…ruined us.”

We’re silent for a while as we absorb what I said. Krista’s death did ruin us but I wonder if we were doomed to fail from the beginning.

“You and me…we’re not a good idea, are we?” she finally asks.

I release one of her hands and cup her cheek, tilting her head up so our mouths are almost perfectly aligned. “Probably not. But that’s not going to stop me from trying for us again.”

She closes her eyes, the corners of her mouth tilting upward. “You say the sweetest things, I swear.”

I kiss her, keeping it brief because it would be so easy to get carried away. I refuse to make out with her in the parking lot of the police station so I tell her we should make a run for it and get inside as fast as possible. We both jerk up the hoods on our sweatshirts and climb out of the truck, running through the pouring rain as we dodge the various puddles heading toward the front entrance.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and with the shitty weather, no one is really around. The streets in town were pretty much abandoned too because unlike the citizens of southern California, who are driving everywhere at all times, the people in my small town batten down the hatches and stay inside when it storms like this.

I’d rather be anywhere other than this place, which is full of nothing but bad memories. I’ve spent far too much time at a police station—in freaking
jail
—for someone my age. I tell myself I can’t regret what’s happened to me because spending time here wouldn’t have led me to Reverie but…

Yeah. I regret it. I was wronged and no one seemed to care. I can’t let that fuel my actions for the rest of my life but I certainly have a right to be bitter.

And man, I hate being inside the station, the familiar smell, the sounds, the drab color of the walls. I’m right back where I don’t want to be and am thankful that the moment Reverie is done giving her statement, I can walk my ass out of here and never look back.

If I were smart and had an actual plan, I’d leave this town for good. I have a decent job but I can find one just like it anywhere. I can find an apartment and new friends too. I don’t need this place.

But change is hard. I have no one to rely on.

Only me.

We approach the front desk and Reverie asks to see Detective Jacoby. The man appears within seconds of receiving notice we’re here and he leads the both of us back to his desk, holding his hand out toward the two chairs in front of it, indicating he wants us to sit down.

“You wasted no time getting here,” he says to Reverie with a pleasant smile. But I can see the disappointment in his gaze. I know he doesn’t like that I’m here with her. This guy has never been on my side and my alibi is going to disappoint him.

“I figured I needed to get this over with. So you would leave Nick alone once and for all,” she says, fidgeting in her seat. I can tell she’s uncomfortable and I wish I could give her hand a reassuring squeeze but I don’t. We need to remain as neutral as possible, especially in front of this guy.

“So you’re the one who brought her here?” Jacoby settles his attention on me.

“I gave her ride, yeah.” I nod.

“Nasty weather out there.” He points out the obvious. “Guess it was worth it though, to get us off your ass, right?” Jacoby laughs at his own joke, though Reverie and I both don’t even crack a smile.

Jerk. He’s making fun of my
life.
A life the police force have made miserable going on almost two years.

He sobers up real quick. “All right, little lady. Let’s get you settled so we can record your statement.” Standing, he hitches up his pants, keeping his gaze pinned on her. “You ready?”

She blinks up at him. “You’re not going to question me here?”

“Nah, it’s too noisy out here with everyone around. And we gotta get rid of Fairfield.” Jacoby jerks a thumb in my direction. “Can’t have him lurking around sending you looks, getting you to change your statement if you say something wrong.”

I’m offended and from what I can tell, so is Reverie. She stands, her head held high. Jacoby is a complete dumbass. “He can’t change the
truth,
Detective Jacoby. I don’t like how you imply he has control over what I’m going to say.”

“Why, I never said any such thing,” he blusters, his cheeks ruddy.

“You implied it though and that’s almost the same thing.” She straightens her shoulders, her expression cool and composed, completely unruffled. Yet again, I’m impressed as hell. Jacoby most likely can sense he won’t rattle her and I bet he hates that. “Are you ready?”

“I am.” He leads her away, sending me a long, measured look as he glances over his shoulder one last time. I return the same look, refusing to let him intimidate me.

I stare at them long after they disappear out of vision, the relief that takes hold of me so strong I almost want to shout with happiness. This is it. They can’t come after me any longer. I’m done with this place.

So. Done.

I’m making my way out of the room where the other detectives’ desks are when I hear someone shuffle up behind me.

“Well, look at you. Finally come down to the station to confess your sins and tell everyone what you did to my sweet little girl?”

All the relief bleeds out of me until I feel as flat as a deflated balloon. I recognize that voice. He sounds drunk. Angry. Frustrated.

Slowly I turn to find Krista’s father standing in front of me, wavering on his feet, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth turned up in one corner with a sneer. She looked so much like him, though prettier, of course. She was mean when she drank too.