Page 30 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

Slowly, I pick myself up and go to my bag. “I think I just need to shower and…” I motion to my body. I showered at the hospital, but it was quick. I didn’t get to scrub my hair because of the stitches.

School is out of the question. As is going home. The least I can do is try to feel clean.

Norah stands. “Yes, of course. There are towels and soap in your bathroom, and I’ll… leave you to it.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and silence once again descends. For the first time since Caleb walked out, I wish he had stayed. But the need to ask that of him was overshadowed by guilt.

I cross into the bathroom and strip off my shirt. The stitches will come out in a few days, but already the swelling is better. My face is almost normal, except for a few scrapes from breaking glass and the gash.

Robert did his best to protect me. I close my eyes and see the accident in slow motion. The vehicle Matt was driving coming at us, hitting our car just in front of where I sat. The way his arm banded across my chest as we careened into a ditch. We were weightless for a moment, and then it all came smashing down.

Glass.

Metal.

Blood.

My torso is speckled with bruises, and one nasty one that stretches diagonally across my chest—the seatbelt’s grip.

It’s the backs of my legs that are the most cut up, thanks to Matt dragging me across the glass-ridden asphalt.

I shower, scrubbing my scalp and doing my best to avoid the stitches.

I find the scar on the back of my head, and I hesitate. I remember the stitches I had to get for it, but I don’t quite remember how it happened.

Falling backward, my head hitting the edge of… something.

A hand held mine in the hospital. The doctor cut away my hair and put stitches in. Or maybe it was staples?

With sudden clarity, I realize I lied to Caleb. I don’t have all my memories back. I don’t know how I got the scar or how I told Dad about Mom’s affair.

I don’t know how she reacted.

How the blood got on my door.

Dad has a story to tell. I thought that when I was there. Maybe he can jog my memory…

I rinse and dry as fast as I can, avoiding the rest of my bumps and bruises. After I pull on the loosest-fitting outfit I brought, I go up to the third floor, where Eli’s dad’s home office is.

He’s at his desk, staring down at a file.

I knock on the door, and his head jerks up. His gaze goes through me for a second, then he frowns. “Margo. You look a little pale.”

I shrug. Complaining never got me anywhere. And besides, Norah’s story has me hungry for more.

“Do you need to sit?”

I sink into the chair across from his desk. We sit in silence for a moment, and I try to think of the best way to word my question.

“I, um…” Yeah, this is going well.

Josh glances up, then slowly closes the file. “Why do I think you came in here for a purpose?”

“You’re defending Caleb, right? In case Detective Masters tries to arrest him again.”

“I am. I doubt Masters will do anything without solid evidence and a warrant.”

I chew on my lower lip for a minute. “But he arrested…”