Page 8 of What Goes Around

He took a step forward and the air between us burned. “You did this. You ruined her. You ruined everything. You and Thomas.”

“Nick, please, it’s not—” I started.

“Don’t,” he cut me off, his voice cracking under the weight of grief. “Don’t you dare say her name. After she saw those pregnancy posts, she spiraled even more. This is on you.”

“Nick,” I choked out, tears blurring everything. “I’m carrying your child.”

He laughed, but it was a sound with no humor in it.

“Shut up. Who even knows whose baby that is?”

“Please,” I sobbed. “I’m not lying. I’m scared.”

He didn’t hear me. He crouched so we were eye level, and there was a kind of wildfire in his gaze.

“I swear to you, Ashley,” he said, “I’m going to make sure you pay for what happened to her. I’ll destroy you if it’s the last thing I do.”

Apple stepped forward, hand on his shoulder. “Nick, please. Ashley is hurting too.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, and for a second there was something there, then gone.

Nick’s face hardened. “Get out. Now.”

The room spun, eyes burning into me from every direction.

Someone muttered, “She shouldn’t have come.”

So I did what they wanted.

I left.

Outside the church the air hit me like cold water. I didn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong so fast. How one lie, one impossible, fabricated lie, had managed to destroy everything.

Chapter 4: Betrayed

It had been a week since the funeral, but the grief hadn’t lifted.

It had just changed shape. Heavier. Darker. Like wet cement hardening around me.

I barely left my apartment. The blinds stayed closed. My phone stayed on silent, even though it buzzed constantly with messages I couldn’t bear to open.

When it buzzed again, I looked.

The screen lit up with yet another message I assumed would be more of the same. Accusations. Threats, Strangers telling me who I was.

But then I saw it.

A number I recognized instantly.

My breath caught as I grabbed the phone and opened it.

(843) 454-9163: Meet me at the Hilton. Room 207

Nick.

Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he wanted to talk. To finally listen. Maybe everything could start to make sense again.

I didn’t even think.