“What if we do this and the Riot change their minds on being cool about us fingering Fiend and his friends?” I ask. “What if they’re lying and they come after us again? What if Fiend gets out of jail and seeks revenge for what we’re about to do?”
What if I don’t find those account numbers? What if I do and Eli goes to jail for something he never did? What if an asteroid comes hurtling out of the sky and busts into hundreds of little pieces and hits each and every single member of the Riot?
I roll my bracelets around my wrist. Chevy places his hand over mine, lifts our combined hands, waves his other hand in a circle, and when he flips his palm over, my silver bracelet, the one he gave me for my sixteenth birthday, is in his hand.
Complete awe. Never felt him remove the bracelet. Doesn’t matter how many times he does this, I’m dazzled.
Chevy flips my bracelet around until I see the inside inscription. Forever. My heart lifts, then sinks. At sixteen, I had believed the two of us were forever. He waves his other hand over the bracelet, claps, and then the bracelet is back on my wrist again.
“Is that your way of saying everything’s okay?” I ask.
“It’s my way of saying I’m right here beside you and that’s where I plan on staying.”
A tightness in my chest and I clear my throat to gain some control. “You could make a million dollars in Vegas.”
“Nah, wouldn’t happen. I don’t know how to put people back together once I saw them in half.”
I giggle, a little too loudly for the situation, and a guy in uniform passing the room we’re in gives us a disapproving glare. Eli, Cyrus and Mom went off to talk to two men in white button-down shirts and ties. Once again, making decisions and choices for me. “Where’s your mom?”
“She has to work. She’s taken off too much time and needs the money. She’s pissed she’s not here, but I told her it’s not a big deal.”
“Nope. Not a big deal at all,” I murmur.
He bumps his knee into mine. “You want me to do this?”
“You are doing this, hence why you’re sitting here next to me.”
“No, do you want me to do this for the both of us? In the end, only one of us needs to point them out.”
“I’m sure the boys in the white shirts will be happy with that. I believe their words were something about a stronger case with both of us pointing fingers.”
“Ask me if I fucking care.” The unusual harshness in his tone grabs my full attention. “Their happiness isn’t my problem.”
“Then what is your problem?”
He runs a hand over his head, kicks out his legs and stares straight out into the room. “Anything that bothers you.”
I continue to watch him. He knows it, and from the way he stays still, he doesn’t like it. Yes, Chevy knows me, but I know him just as well. Chevy’s smooth, a trickster, and has a way of bringing things up without anyone else really understanding the underlying conversation. I rode with him in the truck on the way here and he was quiet. Mom was with us, but still he was too silent.
“Did something happen?” I ask. “More football problems?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you were wound so tight to return home and don’t give me the bullshit on freedom. I know you, Violet, and you’re hiding something.”
And there it is. Chevy played his cards and played them well. Waited for the moment when I’m too frayed to lie well.
“It is about freedom,” I hedge.
“But that’s not all. There’s more and you’re keeping it to yourself.”
He’s right, he’s aware he’s right and now I’m the one who’s quiet.
“Someday, I hope you’ll trust me again,” he says softly.
I flinch. His words a knife straight into my windpipe and I can’t breathe.
“Mr. McKinley?” With a file in hand, one of the officers working our case appears in the doorway. “Will you please follow me?”
The officer leaves, Chevy rises to his feet, and before he walks out, I blurt, “Be careful.”
Chevy glances at me over his shoulder. “It’s just a lineup.”
I hold his dark eyes and wish I could find words to explain how this sixth sense crawling underneath my skin tells me that there’s nothing “just” about anything involving us anymore. But there are no words and any that I could possibly think of are stuck on my twisted tongue.
I stand abruptly, so quickly my heart pounds. Chevy’s forehead furrows. I don’t want him to walk out this door and for this to have been the last moment alone before I go home and ruin either my or Eli’s life. I don’t want my last real memory of the two of us to be of a magic trick and conversation on the Riot.
I will my feet forward, practically tripping with how heavy my body feels under the burden of what’s to come, and before I can overthink, I plow into him. My arms around his body, my head into his chest and I squeeze, inhaling deeply, and try to memorize everything about him. His scent of leather and dark spices, the hard plane of his chest, the sound of his heart against my ear, the heat rolling off his body.
A strong arm around my waist, another tunneling into my hair. Chevy lowers his head and kisses my forehead. The sensation of his lips against my skin causes thrilling goose bumps.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’re okay. I promise. I know things are complicated now, but it’s going to get better.”