Jennifer Armentrout - Don’t Look Back

“I want him to leave,” I said, folding my arms.

A grim smile appeared on Scott’s face. “Then you’d better be leaving, Del.”

Anger replaced the annoyance, and I was reminded of the rage behind the desperation in my first memory of him. I knew being turned down wasn’t something Del was accustomed to.

“Don’t do this, Sammy,” he said with that same look.

I didn’t understand why he even wanted to make this work, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t backing down. Even before the memory resurfaced I had my mind made up. This just cemented my decision. “Please leave.”

Del took one step toward me, and that was it.

My brother shot across the room, moving like a streak of lightning. There was a brief second when I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and then I saw him cock back his arm. His fist crashed into Del’s face, and the boy went down like a sack of potatoes, smacking on the floor with a heavy thud.

Scott lowered his fist. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

I’d waited downstairs while Scott revived Del and then got him out of the house. It turned out Scott had been in the basement the entire time, and he’d locked the front door behind him when he’d come home. Meaning Del had lied again and most likely had a key. First thing on my to-do list was to get it back from him.

Scott advised me to leave that up to him.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked, grabbing a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer.

I sat down at the bar, feeling my cheeks burn. “I remembered something.”

“Something big enough for you to kick his ass to the curb.” He plopped the bag down on his red knuckles and winced. “Do tell.”

“Well, I was already going to break up with him before I remembered.”

He sat across from me, brows raised. “Does this have anything to do with Car?”

“No!” My cheeks burned even brighter.

“Okay.” A grin appeared on his lips. “So what’s the deal?”

Chewing on my pinkie nail, I shrugged. “Things aren’t the same between us. So I’d decided to call things off. When I gave him back the necklace, I remembered … something that had happened.”

His brows inched up his forehead.

I sighed. “He took … pictures .”

Scott scrunched up his face, as if he was about to vomit on me. “Those pictures …”

There went any hope that he hadn’t seen them or heard about them. I dropped my head on the counter and sighed. “It’s so embarrassing. I had no idea! I mean, I didn’t know he’d taken them at all, and supposedly Trey found them and sent them, but still.”

Scott cursed. “You didn’t know he took them?”

“No,” I moaned.

Another explosive curse caused me to jump a little. “I asked you about those pictures, Sam, because I was pissed. You acted like it was no big deal. If I’d known, I would’ve knocked him the hell out a lot sooner.”

I raised my arms helplessly, keeping my face planted on the counter. “Yeah, well, apparently I got over it.”

Several seconds passed before he spoke. “I think I’m going to bust his other eye.”

As much as that made me all warm and fuzzy inside, I lifted my head. “You can’t. Just leave him alone. It’s over with—we’re over.” I covered my face with my hands. “Man, how can I show my face?”

“Sam, that happened, like, seven months ago.”

“So? I just remembered it.” I groaned again. “This is horrible.”

“Everyone has forgotten about it, considering everything else,” he said gently.

“Yeah, because they think I killed Cassie or I’m crazy.” I dropped my hands. Scott watched me, appearing to be caught between amusement and sympathy. I scowled at him and then saw how badly his knuckles were swelling under the bag. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “Worth it.”

“Thank you,” I said, shifting on the stool. “I know I was a shitty sister—”

“Stop.” He waved his uninjured hand, staring at the bag. “Back to the whole everyone-thinking-you-killed-Cassie thing. Julie told me what the girls were saying at the party today. You know they’re just being dumb. No one thinks that.”

I gave him a bland look. He changed the subject to what Carson and I had done when we left the barn. When I told him about going up to the cliff to see if it would spark my memory, he looked as if he wanted to knock the bag of peas upside my head.

“The cliff is dangerous,” he grumbled, standing. Taking the bag to the trash can, he turned back. “You shouldn’t be up there.”

I frowned. “Why not? It might help me remember.”

He threw the peas away and slowly opened his fist. “Why do you need to remember? It’s not going to change anything. Cassie will still be dead.”

“I know that,” I said, unsure why he was so against it. “But I need to know what happened. It probably wasn’t an accident, and she deserves justice.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Cassie deserved a lot of things.”

My mouth dropped open. “Scott! That’s not cool.”

He returned the look I gave him earlier. “ You don’t remember her. You have no clue how messed up she was. And you were fine until you started hanging out with her. Sorry if I’m not all torn up.” He paused, exhaling roughly. “Okay, that wasn’t right.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry, Cassie, wherever you are.”

I slid off the stool. “I need to know the truth. It’s, like, closure. I can’t move on until then.”

His eyes met mine for a few seconds, and then he raised his brows, not in a mocking way but more out of concern. “What if the truth isn’t to your liking, Sam? What if it only makes everything worse?”

That was the million-dollar question. The feeling of having done something wrong resurfaced, wrapping itself around my insides, tightening until I was sure I was going to have some epic ulcers soon.

“Then I’ll have to deal with it,” I said finally, sitting back down. “But I need to know. Good or bad.”

Scott looked away, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. I could tell this conversation upset him, and I knew he was worried that all my poking around would eventually stir up something that I wouldn’t be able to deal with. I sought to change the subject.

“So Dad’s not home?” I asked, and he shook his head. “He’s never really home, is he?”

“He’s probably at the office. He stays there a lot.” He dropped into the seat next to me and rested his chin on his good hand. “Comes home late.”

“And Mom is always in bed?” I twisted toward him.

“She’s pretty much hiding in her bedroom, but yes.”

“Has it always been like this?”

Scott’s brows rose as he seemed to think the question over. “For the last five or so years it has been. They barely even speak to each other or stay in the same room longer than a few minutes.”

I lowered my gaze. “Why are they still together?”

“You want a serious answer to that?” When I nodded, he laughed under his breath. “Before this happened to you, you knew why.”

“I did?”

He nodded. “Mom’s not going to divorce Dad because of what people would say, unless staying married to him was worse somehow. Dad knows that, and he’ll never leave Mom, because, well, she owns him.”

I frowned. “Owns him?”

“He has nothing without Mom.” He laughed, but it was dry. “All our money is on her side, and I’m sure there was a nasty little prenup that means she gets everything if they divorce and he keeps what he had when he entered the marriage, which wasn’t much.”

“But Dad works.” I shook my head. “Even if they divorced, he’d have all the money from that.”