Page 25 of You for Her (The Edge of Retaliation 2)
“I’m still not one-hundred-percent sure this is the right path. I wish I had a little more information to throw down, in case they call our bluff.”
I’m hesitant to go with Jo’s plan, even though I agree that we need to do something. I’m not sure people as smart as them will believe that I have the answers. I only hope that we can make them believe we actually know what happened to Celia, even though we technically don’t. All we know is that Chase caused something to happen to her, something bad, and she got HIV from it. Then he changed his name and ran. I’m guessing Tatum helped him do that.
It’s not really anything solid.
“I don’t think they will. All we have to do is make them doubt Tatum for just a second and they’ll ask him and he’ll have no choice but to come clean.”
“If he doesn’t, if he says we’re lying …”
“Then we ask him where Chase is, and if he’s not lying, to bring him home. He’ll falter. I know he will.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask her, because, deep down, I know she likes Tatum. She’s disappointed in him, sure, but Jo sees beyond the bad in people, and I know she sees beyond the bad in Tatum. There is some sort of connection there.
I feel like there is a lot more to it than even I know, and I wonder how much they’ve actually spoken that she hasn’t told me.
It worries me, for her sake.
I know how easily it is to fall when you’re already down.
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I? Don’t say Tatum, because I barely know him.”
“I know, but you two have become friends …”
She shrugs. “I’d do anything for you, Callie. Anything.”
I love that about her, I truly do.
I also don’t want that to come at the expense of her happiness.
“I know you would,” I tell her with a grateful smile. “That’s why I love you, but I can handle this on my own if I have to, I’m strong enough.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She raises her brows. “But the fact is, I’m not letting you do it on your own, so you can count that out.”
I laugh softly and stand. “I’ll get us some more drinks.”
She nods. “Make them doubles.”
I grin and walk up to the bar, squeezing between a few people and waving a hand. A young bartender walks over and takes my order, as I wait, I turn and face the crowd, glancing at the people dancing and drinking and playing pool. I missed all of this. I missed dancing drunk in bars when I was eighteen, or going on crazy road trips, or camping with my friends.
Now that I’m out, I’m still not living the way I should be because of Tanner and his horrible little revenge plan.
I’m more than ready to start living my life again.
“Aren’t you the girl who killed that other girl?”
I blink and turn at the sound of a male voice. There is a man standing next to me, he’s probably around Tanner’s age judging by his staunchy build, dark hair, and slightly aged face. He’s not in his twenties anyway, that’s for certain. His hazel eyes scan over me and he says, “Yeah, I’ve seen a picture of you somewhere.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I ask.
“No, but I know who you are. You hit-and-run that poor girl years ago. What was her name again? Celia?”
Oh. God.
How does this man even know me?
“I don’t know you,” I mutter. “Don’t pretend to know me. I also didn’t run anywhere. Get your facts straight.”
Two other people have turned around to listen to the conversation, and my cheeks burn an angry red as I realize that I’m being centered and questioned like I’m in a damn court room. My ears start ringing and it feels like the room begins to echo around me, the noise drowning into a fuzzy mess.
“I thought you would have been locked away for longer, considering you killed her. Imagine how that must have felt for her poor family.”
My stomach clenches, and I shake my head. “Please leave me alone.”
“Hey, Joe,” the man says, calling a friend over, his voice loud over the music. “This is that girl that killed that young teen on Jones road all those years ago.”
“No kidding. I can’t believe she’s walking free. Should kick her out. Murderer.”
My heart does a flip flop and my head starts to spin as people begin to look at me, their eyes judgmental, their expressions filled with hatred and rage. I want to run, to scream, to get away but I can’t. I’m stuck facing all their looks, the expressions of hate and disappointment, even a few of pity. They want to get their pitchforks out and make it known that they’ve found their monster, but I’ve done nothing to any of them.
