I don’t hear Sebastian’s phone ring— I just wake up to his voice. He’s talking quickly, almost worriedly, and grimaces when he sees he’s woken me. He tries to convinced me to lay back down (via a series of gestures and wanting looks), but it’s no use— I’m up, and I can tell something serious is happening.
“Just put him on the phone. Stop panicking,” he says calmly. Except I know it isn’t really calm— because even though the tone and cadence is the same as his calm voice, there’s a kind of panic in his eyes that is new to me and, frankly, a bit frightening.
“Ok, good, good,” Sebastian says with a deep, full-bodied breath. “Hey, Dad? Mom says you’re saying some stuff that scares her.”
My blood freezes. Dad. He’s talking to his dad. The man who murdered my aunt is on the end of that phone line, and I’m holding Sebastian’s hand, so it’s like I’m connected to Dennis Slate and oh my god— I pull my hand away, justifying the move by brushing my hair behind my ears and picking at my cuticles.
“I know it’s intense, but Dad, you can’t talk about hurting yourself in front of mom. You shouldn’t talk about hurting yourself, period. We’re going to get through this.”
Breathe. I need to breathe. Dennis Slate isn’t really here. And Sebastian isn’t Dennis. Sebastian and I are pretending, after all, like the entire murder never happened. Like we’re fine. Like everything is fine—
“Because you’re innocent, Dad. I know that. Everyone knows that. You’re not going to jail, because innocent people don’t go to jail— or they shouldn’t, anyway. No, no, you won’t. Because you just won’t!” Sebastian’s voice is growing more frantic, though he keeps it steady enough that passersby don’t seem to notice the tenor of the conversation.
I feel sick. Sebastian might be right— hell, he probably is right. His father won’t go to jail. The man who killed my aunt will just get to live the rest of his life, will get to meet people and eat waffles and go to weddings and meet grandkids and meanwhile, my aunt will stay dead, all because of him. Because she was having an affair with Dennis Slate, and was going to tell Dennis’s wife. Something that, in the end, the wife learned about anyway— which means he killed my aunt for nothing at all. She died for nothing, and he might very well never see the inside of a jail cell again, and from the sounds of it, that’s exactly what Sebastian wants—
“That was the situation which shall not be named,” Sebastian says, and rises. “I need to get in touch with my brothers. I think I should drop you off at your place—“
“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, it’s…” It’s far from fine, but I don’t know how to explain that right now. “Look, honestly, maybe this is for the best.”
“What?” Sebastian says, looking stunned. He’s midway through offering me his arm, presumably so we can hurry off to his car.
“I should have told you last night,” I say, biting my lip, hands shaking, eyes wobbling, I have to do it, I have to tell him—
“What?” he asks again, lowering his hand, eyes going cool.
I dig deep for the need to say it, for the need to tell him who my aunt is. I need to say it, even though it’ll hurt him. Even though if I say it out loud, I’ll more or less be saying that I think his father is a murderer and deserves to be in jail. That his father— who, rightly or wrongly, Sebastian is clearly worried about— is a monster. My words will hurt Sebastian, because for whatever reason, he cares about me. He wants me.
And I told him we could pretend. I convinced him to hold me again, to trust me, and I’m going to shatter that if I tell him the truth now.
“I should have told you that the project I’m working on with the student advocacy group is all about ending New Recruits Week,” I say, opting to chicken out and only tell part of the truth. “That’s how I got into the party last night, even— another girl in my group hooked me up with Juliet. I was literally only there to spy on football players and report back.”
Sebastian looks alarmed, but not angry— more like he can’t understand why this is coming out now, of all times, or why it’s making me tear up and shake and quiver. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “My point is, this is all just a huge conflict of interest. So we should go ahead and end things now before we get too…you know. Attached.”
“Too attached?” Sebastian says— almost growls. “It’s way too late for that, Ashlynn.”