Page 85 of Top Shelf

She hasme.

21

WREN

“I duckedinto the bathroom to shower while you slept, and that must have been when you woke up, because when I came out, you were gone.”

The silence after Ronan finishes feels like a held breath. Heavy. Fragile. My pulse thrums in my ears, too loud in the quiet. No one moves. No one speaks.

Because what the hell do you say after that?

I sit frozen, fingers clenched in the blanket on my lap. I’m not cold, but I can’t seem to let go. My knuckles are white, and I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until I feel Silas’s hand brush against mine, subtle yet grounding. My lungs stutter before pulling in an uneven breath.

“I’d gone to the party with a group of girls from my stats class after the game.” My voice is soft, hoarse, as I succumb to the scant few memories I have of that night. “It was the first one of the year. The first time I was out from under my family’s thumb, removed from the Winslow name, and able to just…be myself.” My voice cracks, my throat closing over. I stop, sucking in a deep breath before forcing it out, slow and steady. My chest aches with the memory of how free I felt.Oh, how naïve that freedom was.

“I’ve never been a big drinker. Not in public, at least. Never know who is lurking nearby with a phone ready to record your most embarrassing moments and upload them for the world to laugh at.” I scoff. That awareness was drilled into me by my parents. If only public humiliation had been the worst thing that came out of that party.

“I only had a couple of drinks—at least, that’s all I remember having.” I shrug, staring down at my lap and unable to meet a single one of their gazes. “For the first time at a party, I was having fun. Laughing. Dancing. Just being myself. Not a Winslow prop. Not a Serpents representative.” I trail off, at a loss for words, emotions threatening to drown me as they swell up to block my throat.

Ronan’s hand moves to rest on my knee, the sudden contact shocking me out of the memories of that night. “You were being a typical college student. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I nod, and yet I’ve always carried the belief that what happened was somehow my fault. If I’d worn jeans instead of a dress. If I’d stuck to water. If I had stood against the wall instead of allowing myself to get pulled into the group of dancing bodies, then maybe… Maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here now, feeling like a stranger in my own skin.

I heave another breath before forcing myself to continue.

“Then it gets blurry. Faces bleed into one another, and I remember the sensation of the ground tilting beneath me. The sound of the party got too loud, making me nauseous.” My eyes scrunch, palms growing sweaty as we get to the crux of that night, as the memories start to become more disjointed. “I don’t know if I left the party of my own accord or if someone was with me.” My stomach turns. “After that...it’s just flashes. I remember gravel under my knees. My palms burning. I remember thepanic, the cloying fear.” I shake my head. “And after that…nothing.”

Silas’s grip tightens slightly.

I glance down at our hands. Then, finally, lift my gaze to Ronan. “When you spoke at The Stanley, and I heard your voice...it cracked something open in me. Like this pressure behind my ribs that finally gave. That was the first real piece I got back. You, speaking. Saying something or maybe asking something. Then Lucian’s arms around me, and Silas’s blue eyes.”

“That’s why you fled that night,” Lucian speaks up. “Because you recognized his voice and you thought we were involved.”

I hesitate before nodding.

Silas squeezes my hand hard enough that I look his way. His gaze is soft, understanding, as though he’s trying to convey without words that he understands why I would jump to that conclusion.

Ronan leans forward. “Do you remember who gave you the drink? Anything about them?”

I shake my head slowly. “I’ve gone over it a hundred times. I poured the drink myself, but I can’t remember if I set it down at any point. I know I wouldn’t have left it unattended, but maybe I set it on a surface behind me. I could have turned my back for a second.” I shrug helplessly, not having any answers. I’ve scoured through every minute detail that I can remember from that night and…nothing. “No one stood out. I don’t recall anyone paying me extra attention. No one offered to get me a drink. I only danced with the girls.” I shake my head.

Lucian exhales sharply. “It could’ve been anyone.”

Pulling his notebook from his pocket with his hand that isn’t wrapped around mine, Silas quickly writes.

It could have been a spiked bottle.

“Definitely possible,” Ronan agrees.

“What do you mean? I wasn’t specifically targeted?” I ask, gaze bouncing between them.

“Someone could have spiked a bottle of juice or something,” Lucian explains, eyes flashing and jaw ticking. “The fruity shit that girls typically mix in with their spirits. Easier to do without getting caught and opens up a range of potential targets. Then whoever did it can have their pick of the crop.”

My nose scrunches, disgust roiling in my gut.

I sit with that for a moment. It feels worse, somehow. Not being hunted but being plucked out of a crowd like the unlucky loser in some cruel lottery. Like my life was altered forever because I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“That’s even more fucked up,” I choke out. “Drugging for sport. It means it could have been anybody—multipleanyones.”