Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
He didn’t answer, so I called again, still getting no answer. I hesitated a moment and then tried Will.
Again, no answer.
God, he might not even be awake yet.
I sat there, my phone starting to buzz as the world back home started to wake with the news, and old classmates probably wanted to be the first to alert me about the video with Martin in it.
I inhaled and exhaled. It would be fine.
Right? They’d get out of this.
But even saying it, I knew it wasn’t true. Whoever loaded the videos wanted a trial by public opinion. Even if they escaped without a charge, this could get them kicked out of their schools.
It would undoubtedly embarrass their families on a massive scale.
Michael.
Why wasn’t Michael in any of them?
Whoever posted the videos had the phone. Michael would be on there. He was pretty much the leader.
And slowly, realization started to crystallize. Either it was Michael who’d posted them, or someone who didn’t want him embarrassed.
Or his family embarrassed.
I barely breathed, too many thoughts trying to come up my throat all at once as my brain started to finally catch up.
If anyone had half a mind to, there would be no way to ignore their behavior if someone shared those videos in the right place, you know? Can you imagine the embarrassment?
Oh, no.
I closed my eyes, exhaling a single breath. “Fuck.”
• • •
The cab crawled into Thunder Bay hours later, barely able to go more than twenty miles an hour with all the people cluttering the streets.
It looked like Mardi Gras, only no one was smiling.
Cameras, news crews…Will was going to be the center of this. His grandfather was a senator.
We entered the village where Sticks was packed with people and the sidewalks covered. Everyone wanted to be where the action was, and even kids were in the middle of it.
This was all my fault. God, what had I done?
After I’d failed to get a hold of anyone, I hadn’t even stopped to throw anything into a bag. I just dressed and dragged Thea out of the shower to take me to the airport since she had a car.
I couldn’t get a flight out until six a.m. my time, and it was now after six p.m. Thunder Bay time. I’d been able to see bits of pieces on my phone during my layover in Chicago.
They’d been arrested.
And Martin was probably in heaven.
I looked around, people I didn’t even recognize walking the streets. I swallowed a few times, trying to generate some saliva, but I just wanted him out. Back at school where he belonged.
Will.
But then I smelled it.
The fire.
I turned my head, looking around, and my gaze stopped, seeing the yellow tape on the hill.
My stomach dropped.
“Stop,” I breathed out.
The driver kept going.
“Stop!” I yelled, digging in my pocket for the cash.
The car halted, people talking and yelling outside the cab. I threw the money over the front seat and jumped out of the car, racing across the street, through the crowd.
I gazed up at it as I climbed the small incline—the wood charred, the roof collapsed, and debris everywhere.
My gazebo.
Why…who…?
I spun in a circle, looking around the village and noticing the wood bolted over what used to be a display case at the front of Fane, the jewelry store.
What the hell happened here last night?
Tears wet my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away and charged back down the hill and across the street, pushing through the crowd of people until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
I’d built that. Nothing else seemed burned. Why that?
Like they had to erase me from the town.
I started running, taking a right down a quieter street and racing to the police station.
I swung the door open, pushed through all the people inside, and shoved my way through the partition, heading to the offices in the back.
“Emory!” someone barked.
But I ignored him, probably a cop to tell me I couldn’t just barge in.
“Emmy!” another person shouted.
I dug in my heels, slamming my hands into the double doors and charging over to my brother’s desk.
It was empty. I looked at Bryan Baker coming back to his desk with a coffee.
“Where is he?”
“In the john,” he said, taking a sip. “Have a seat.”
I set off, heading down the hall and charging into the men’s room.
Sweat covered my back, and I breathed hard, about to explode. This wasn’t his day. He wasn’t going to win.
Martin stood at a urinal, the rest of the room apparently empty.
I glared at him as he turned his head slowly, looking me up and down.
But he didn’t seem surprised to see me.
A scar stretched across his jaw as he spoke. “You disappoint me,” he said, turning back around and finishing up. “Of all the things to drag your ass back to Thunder Bay for, you came back for this.” He zipped up his pants and fastened his belt. “You didn’t come back for me when they put me in the hospital last summer.”