Page 132 of Unexpected Shot
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold back my tears, and while I didn’t say all of that to make Beau feel bad, apparently I failed on that end. Before I can say another word, I’m back in his arms, only this time he’s on top of me, kissing me like he’s about to leave for battle. But what cuts me the most is when I feel the tear hit my cheek.
The one I know didn't come from me.
“I’m sorry, Shelby. I am so fucking sorry.” I squeeze him tighter, because this might’ve been my wound, but it’s his too. I know that now. Each of us gained a scar that day, one long scabbed over, but the pain of which has never truly faded.
“I know you are. Now. But back then…I felt so betrayed, Beau. By the tournament directors. The country club members who shunned me. Mr. Ashcroft, who grabbed me and told me to keep my mouth shut. That you were a good kid and I shouldn’t ruin your reputation with cheating accusations. That no one would believe me if I claimed I won.”
“He did what!” Beau shouts. “Chad’s father assaulted you?”
“Yes, and the next time you see him, feel free to defend my honor,” I say with a little teasing in my voice. “But, Beau…you were the last person to have my card, and when I left it with you, it was right. And when you didn’t defend anything, I assumed the absolute worst about you. Because back then…I thought you were my friend. Maybe more? I don’t know. But all I know is thatwhen I left, it was right. It’s why I blamed you. That’s why I couldn’t think outside of that box for so long.”
“I know, Shelby.” Beau presses one more kiss on my cheek before slowly rolling back to his side. “And I want you to know everything happened so fast. I truly didn't know what was going on, and before I knew it, they were shoving that trophy in my hands. I tried to tell them they were wrong. I tried to protest. I need you to believe that I did that. I wanted to make it right. But they simply told me it was a math mistake, and what was done was done.”
“Wait, what did you say?”
I know it’s emotional right now, and I’m known for only hearing certain parts of conversations, but did Beau just say that we did the math wrong?
“I said that I didn’t do enough when they told me we did the math wrong.”
Okay, now I know he said those words, and it causes me to sit straight up in bed. “Mr. Ashcroft accused me of switching our scores. That I wrote down what you had, and vice versa. Or changing our names. He never told me specifically, but he never said anything about wrong math. Wrong math is us not knowing three plus four equals seven. He outrightly accused me of cheating and changing cards. Which is why I thought you did it since I gave the cards to you.”
Beau is sitting up now, both of our flabbers absolutely gasted.
“So let me get this straight,” Beau says, running his hands through his already messy hair as he tries to process this along with me. “You were accused of changing the cards. I was told we did the math wrong. Neither of us were given proper explanations by Mr. Ashcroft and the other tournament directors. Which means…”
His words don’t trail off because he doesn’t know. He trails off because, like me, neither of us can believe what’s going on. I’m just the one who says the words out loud first.
“We were set up.”
“Food is here.”
Did Beau and I really need an extra large pizza, breadsticks, and wings? Probably not. But if you’re going to dissect an event from twenty years ago, you don’t do it on an empty stomach.
“Thank God,” I say, grabbing three breadsticks, one of the sides of dipping sauce, and a slice of pepperoni and mushroom pizza. “I’m starving.”
“Well…we did work up an appetite.”
I give him a look because yes, we might be happy and sexed-up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t call him out for being a horny man. “Focus, Devereaux. We have a mystery to solve.”
I feel like the guy in the meme who's in front of the chalkboard going a little crazy as Beau and I remember little details of that day. Nothing is too insignificant. Nothing is too small. But twenty years is a long time ago.
“Okay, I kept Dalton's card, and let's be real, I don't even know what happened to him,” I begin. “I doubt he was planning a massive scheme against us.”
“Couldn’t have been him. He signed off and left immediately."
“Okay. So I had Dalton’s. You had mine. Dalton had Chad’s. And…Chad had yours.”
“And why was his dad right there, ready to stop you from causing a scene?”
“Holy shit.” Everything is starting to fall into place. “You’re right. How did Mr. Ashcroft know to be there waiting for me? It’s like he knew I was going to protest. He had every argument ready. How would he have known that if Chad didn’t have something to do with it?”
“That mother fucker,” Beau says, his face turning white, then red, at the realization that Chad might have been screwing with me long before he became my swing coach. “And of course, because you were his son’s girlfriend, it madecomplete sense for him to be the one to try and talk you down.”
“At first I thought it was because he was trying to protect me. From what, I don’t know. But as the interaction went along, I felt more and more like he was glad I lost. The way he talked to me, Beau…it’s like I was gum at the bottom of his shoe. Kept saying things like I needed to be a lady about the results, and that you deserved to win. Which just pissed me off more.”
Beau puts down his slice of pizza and slides my chair toward him, bringing me into a hug. “I hate that he made you feel that way. And I hate that I was used to do it.”
“I know,” I say, wrapping my arms around his chest before sitting back up. I love his comfort, but right now, I love pizza more. “So, if this is our leading theory, that somehow the Ashcrofts did, or were a part of this, there are still a lot more questions.”
