Her fingers slither around my neck and she pouts. “How is it suspicious? I’m the new girl who needs to make some friends. No one has a clue that you’ve been fucking your sister behind closed doors.”
When she tries to kiss me, I tilt my head to the side then unlock her fingers behind my neck, one by one, dropping her hands to her side. “About that. It needs to stop.”
“Come on. You know you like it just as much as I do?”
I begin walking to my car again, and she’s right back at my side. “I have to go. Take your car and go home. I’ll be there in an hour. We need to have a serious talk.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her as I pull my phone out of my pocket and get ready to text Willa back. I wasn’t planning on meeting up with her, but I needed an out. I can’t let Madison hang out here. If she tells everyone that she watched us stuff Josh’s body into the trunk of a car, she’ll use it against them, too. She’s like the female version of Zed. Possibly worse.
Before I can even get in the car, Madison snatches my phone from my hand and begins thumbing through it. It was opened to my conversation with Willa and panic ensues. Just as I go to grab it from her, she takes off running like a fucking child with a cookie. “Madison!” I shout, “Give me back my damn phone.”
“Who is this?” she asks with her eyes glued to my phone. “Who the hell is Willa?” How does she know who it is? I didn’t save her number. She begins reading off the message. “What the hell do you want, Willa?” Lifting her head, she looks at me. “What does this girl want with you?”
Walking toward her with my hands at my side, I approach slowly. Then like a tiger, I pounce—grabbing my phone from her death grip.
“Wait a minute. Willa. Isn’t that the girl in the video? The virgin?”
“If you go straight home, I’ll come see you later.” I lie. If she thinks there’s a chance I’ll come see her, she’ll go home.
Heading for my car, I don’t hesitate or look back at her before jumping in. Locking the doors first, I shift into reverse and peel out. There’s a good chance she’ll go straight for Miner Park since she read the messages, so I call Willa.
I’m not surprised when she picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Willa. Still wanna meet up?”
“Want to? No. Need to? Yes. I’m already here.”
“Change in plans. Meet me at the abandoned warehouse past the high school.”
“Warehouse?”
“Yeah. The one that Axel Thorn used to have the fights at.”
The call goes silent when she doesn’t respond, and then it hits me, she probably has no idea what or who I am even talking about. I almost forgot that I’m talking to Willa Mack. A straight-A, straight-laced, straight-up saint. “Follow the road past the high school until you get to the end. You can’t miss it.” With that, I end the call.
My mind starts to wander to a dark place. What if she’s pressing charges? When the video first leaked, I thought for sure she would, but her parents wanted to keep things as quiet as possible and just let it blow over. It took a couple weeks, but eventually it did. Of course, that was at the end of the summer when she could still hide out in her house or at her family church and avoid any insults or vulgarity. Apparently a couple weeks ago, her mom fled town and no one has heard from her since. Willa now lives alone with her stepdad, the pastor, and is raised right by the Lord.
I wonder if people have been giving her a hard time now that school started back up. It’s been three months but surely some still remember. God, I wanted to strangle those assholes for doing that to me—to her.
I’ll never pretend to be a good man. I’ve done very bad things. I’ve got skeletons in my closet and blood on my hands. I’ve struggled to feel emotion since I was a kid. I seem to lack a moral compass because regret, anger, and pain don’t come easy to me. The biggest emotion that I lack is empathy. I do feel bad for what happened with Willa, so I like to think that’s a start at me beginning to feel something. But, the events of that day are not what started my downward spiral. My detachment from others started when I was nine years old.
It was the middle of summer and I was supposed to be keeping an eye on Colby, my four-year-old brother, while Mom took a shower. The neighbor kid came over and we got caught up in video games. I didn’t even realize what happened until Mom came downstairs and it was too late. Colby fell in the pool and drowned.
It was all my fault. It doesn’t matter what anyone tried to tell me, I killed my little brother. Mom blamed herself and I think Dad did the same. ‘Who lets a nine-year-old boy babysit?’ That was what he kept repeating that day. Over and over and over again. Mom and Dad divorced a year later. Apparently their marriage couldn’t handle the grief. I grew an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude, and the rest is history. We never talk about it. Not just me and the guys—my family doesn’t talk about it. It’s like Colby never existed, and in my heart and mind, he never did. We sort of just continued to live our lives without him. Sometimes I’m not even sure that I’d call this living. Most days I feel like I’m just surviving.
Pulling up to the warehouse, I immediately spot Willa. Her car is backed in and her petite little body hides behind the steering wheel. I drive up next to her. Close enough that I’m hoping we can just stay put and roll down the windows. Really don’t wanna get out.
I roll my window down and gesture for her to do the same. “What’s up?” I ask. Her eyes blink rapidly and her lips are curled up in a friendly smile. I’ve only said two words to the girl, yet she looks like she’s on the verge of tears even while wearing a smile. “Listen, Willa. If this is about that night. I’ve said I’m sorry and I thought we moved on from this.”
Her head shakes, no. “It’s not about that. Well, it is. But not exactly.” She doesn’t look at me when she speaks. I’m pretty sure I intimidate her and I’m not sure why that bothers me. I prefer most of the world look at me as a tyrant, but for some reason, I want her to look at me differently.
Resting my arm on the windowsill, I watch and wait. “Alright then. Spit it out.”
She rubs her hands together then folds them in her lap. “I’m not really sure how.”
Sweeping my hand in a circular motion, my brows raise. “Come on, Willa. I ain't got all day.” There it is again. The jackass in me that speaks before he thinks. It’s no wonder she’s fearful of me. I’m an impulsive asshole. Sure, some deserve it, but not Willa. She's as pure and as kind as they come. Frail and pale as snow, with a cross around her neck. After everything I did to her, she’s still sitting here choking on her words because I make her uncomfortable. Most girls would be slinging my dick back and forth with their windshield wipers.
“I’m…” she pauses. Looks at me, then her eyes move back to her lap. “I’m pregnant, Lars.”
I don’t think I heard her right. I lean forward, offering her my ear. “Come again.”
Her head lifts and her eyes meet mine. “I’m pregnant.” A single tear slides down her cheek as my mind repeats the words over and over again.