Make You Beg

“Henley?” I say her name, and she looks over at me. Her bottom lip is trembling, her shoulders shaking.

“I thought …” She looks over at Dax, who just sits there looking at her emotionless. Not bitter, not triumphant, just void of anything. “I saw it that night.”

“And we’ve agreed that you were on some shit that made you hallucinate.” Scout snorts. “Fuck, Henley, do you have any idea what you could have done?”

She wraps her arms around herself just like earlier. She’s closing herself off and shutting down before our eyes.

Scout gets to his feet. “Do you—”

“That’s enough,” Monroe snaps, interrupting him. “It’s over. The truth is out. Move on.”

“Henley?” We all look at the back entrance of the living room to see her father enter, followed by my mother. “Henley, go upstairs and get ready,” he orders, his blue eyes looking over her and furrowing his brows at her messy hair and smeared makeup.

I get to my feet. “For what?”

“You’re leaving.” He answers me but speaks to her.

“Where the fuck is she going?” I demand. Her mother is in Switzerland. Where the hell is there for her to go?

“No,” she says, shaking her head.

“Henley, I don’t have time for this.”

“James.” My mom reaches out to take his hand, but he pulls it away.

“I’m not doing this again,” he growls at her.

“No,” Henley says softly but squares her shoulders. “I did it your way last time, Dad, when you didn’t give me a choice. When we got back from the courthouse, my things were already packed, and the jet was being fueled. You drove me to the airfield and forced me to leave town. With no plans of returning.”

I look over at Dax, and he frowns. We thought she ran. We both look at Scout, and he shrugs, rolling his eyes. He was our source. He said she was running.

“Henley …”

“No, Dad!” she snaps at him, making his lips thin. “I’m not leaving. I’m not running. I …” she looks at Monroe and swallows nervously. “I made a mistake.”

“That’s an understatement.” Scout snorts.

She ignores him. “And I can admit when I’m wrong. If I have to give a statement, I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Monroe interrupts her, standing. “No one is speaking to the press, and no one is leaving. We’re dropping this and moving on with our lives.” With that, he exits the living room.

James runs a hand through his hair. “Henley …”

“I’m not leaving,” she tells him sternly. “And that’s that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

HENLEY

I SIT ON my bed, freshly showered and hair still wet. Lacey sits facing me cross-legged. I’ve got the TV on, but the volume turned down enough to where we could hear each other talk if we choose to say anything.

After what happened downstairs, I came up to my room and messaged Lacey to come over so we could talk. She said it would be in an hour. It gave me plenty of time to take a hot bath and get cleaned up.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, breaking the silence. “About Brenda … If it makes you feel any better, I thought you were right.”

I drop my eyes to my comforter. “It seemed so real. But …” I sigh. “I’m glad it didn’t happen to her.” I have to accept that I was wrong. Scout was right. There was no evidence to back up what I said happened between Law and me last night, and there was no evidence in court that suggested Monroe raped and killed Brenda. I hope that it was a quick death. Not the slow and brutal one I imagined. But I didn’t ask her to come over to talk about that. “What happened last night?” I ask her, needing to know. Too many pieces are missing, and she is the only one who can put them all together.

“I had told you that I couldn’t come when you messaged me but changed my mind. I called you on my way, but it went straight to voicemail.” She shrugs. “I just figured that you were in a bad spot in Death Valley at the time and didn’t have any service. When I got there, I knew you would be at the Graveyard. I walked up to the second floor and was about to pass the chapel when Nicholas stepped out of the crowd and in my way.” She licks her lips. “He pulled me into the chapel while Steve took my phone from my pocket. I didn’t know what he was doing at first until he said your name.” She drops her head. “Then you walked in a few minutes later, and …” She sniffs.

“Hey, you’re okay.” I shift on the bed and sit next to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.

“I feel awful, Henley,” she cries. “You could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t,” I say, trying to reassure her that I’m okay. “Thanks to you, I’m fine.”