♡AN ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS ROMANCE♡
Attending the same college is the only thing Sebastian Hutches and Tara Van Doren have in common.
To Sebastian, Tara is a rich, spoiled girl, obsessed with her looks and status.
To Tara, Sebastian is a rude, arrogant...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I hang up and march toward Bast.
"They want me at the station," I say when he gives me a questioning look.
Bast reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out his car key. "It's late. I'll take you. Did the detective tell you what they want?"
"Must be something about my father."
"Okay. Let's go."
We set out for the cemetery exit. Bast's Mustang is the only vehicle parked next to the iron gates. As soon as he unlocks the door, I get into the car and fasten my seat belt.
Maybe I was too agreeable. Maybe waiting for a cab in the company of tombstones and ghosts would've been less awkward than being in Bast's car with him and not knowing what to say.
Sebastian drives in silence. His eyes are trained on the road, and I keep my hands in my lap.
"Thank you," I tell him when he parks outside the police station.
He wags his head. "Don't. And Tara?"
"What?"
"This isn't over."
He gets out of the Mustang, circles it, and opens the door for me.
I keep my head down on my way to the gray building I never thought I'd visit.
Inside the station, another guard lets me in, and as soon as I enter the waiting area, detective Solano calls me. "Tara. Come with me."
We head to his office this time. It smells of coffee, but when the detective offers me the drink, I decline.
Sebastian's dad enters the room a few minutes later.
"Tara," he says, closing the door. "We called you because of Maverick Hull."
"Maverick?" I look from him to detective Solano. "Is he okay?"
The two men exchange a look I fail to interpret. Bast's dad leans against the wall behind detective Solano's desk and crosses his feet at the ankles, retrieving a small notepad and a pen from the front pocket of his shirt.
"We couldn't locate him," he says. "He's your neighbor and friend, is that right?"
"Yes," I whisper. "But I don't understand what he has to do with anything."
"We found butterflies at both crime scenes." Detective Solano tells me. "And we must examine every lead."
Every lead? I jerk my eyes back to Bast's dad, but his face is impassive.
"Tell us everything you can about Mr. Hull, Tara," he says, flipping his notepad open. "Starting with the day you two met."
***
An hour and a half later, I exit the station. My legs feel so heavy I can barely walk. When I see Bast's car in the parking lot, relief swathes me like a blanket.
