CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ANYTHING YOU SAY CAN AND WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU

MERIDIAN

          Leon had a lot of nerve showing up here.

          I was both amazed and shocked at the fact that Sofia was willingly giving him the time of day, especially on a day like this. If he had shown up at my doorstep, I would have left him under the pouring rain without an ounce of hesitation.

          Then again, Sofia was a much better person than I was. I had no doubt in the world she was going to let him talk and blabber, and I also bet my family's entire fortune she would have answered the phone if June had called her on the night she died.

          She stepped forward. "What is it?"

          Leon's eyes kept darting between her and me, as though he didn't think I was welcome on the Winehearts' front porch, when, in reality, that only applied to him. "It's . . . kind of personal. It's private."

          "If it's about my sister, then it's kind of my business," I intervened. Sofia threw me a warning look and, no matter how much it hurt her, June was still my sister—or had been, at least. Family wasn't defined only by blood, obviously, but I still had some sort of authority when it came to this kind of stuff. "I saw the tweets about you."

          He glared at me. "And you believed them? Do you believe everything you read online?"

          "This isn't about fake news, you idiot. It's about how you lied to everyone about being at the motel that night and—"

          "Technically"—he raised his index finger—"I didn't lie. No one ever asked me whether I had been there. I omitted the truth, which is dead different."

          "Well, guess who's actually dead, probably thanks to you!"

          Sofia set a hand on my arm. At first, I thought it was an attempt to calm me down, which didn't have the desired effect, but then she pulled me forward to make me stand under the roof. In reality, it was just to shield me from the rain, leaving behind a trail of small electric shocks everywhere she'd touched me.

          "Leon, if this is about June, you know he's right," she argued. Leon rolled his eyes, hands flying up to his hair, and, for a split second, I felt some compassion towards him. I still had no idea what in the world June had seen in him that made her stay in a relationship with him for so long, but there had been something. Maybe he wasn't as bad as I wanted to believe he was, but he might have killed her. "All three of us cared about June, so there's no reason why this conversation shouldn't include everyone here. We need to start getting along instead of fighting all the time for once in our lives. It's not what June would have wanted."

          Leon glanced at me one last time, hands clenched into tight fists, and then ended up nodding at Sofia.

          "I've been talking to the police," he revealed, and it took every ounce of self-control in my body to not scoff or roll my eyes. Sofia's hand never left my arm, probably as a warning. "They keep bringing me in for questioning and no matter what I say, they still think I had something to do with . . . with what happened to June."

          "We know," Sofia replied. "Georgina has been doing a great job with documenting everything, even when you don't tell us about it yourself. I'm not sure how she's getting away with it, but . . . I think we'd rather hear it from you instead of finding out the news through someone else's social media. You don't owe us anything, but it would be nice."

          "Yeah, yeah, we can pretend we're BFFs some other time." He flicked his wrist, dismissing it. "The point is: I need you to know this from me before it gets out. Like you said, Georgina likes getting involved in things that don't concern her and that could get her own father fired."

          "Just spit it out," I piped in. "You're delaying the inevitable."

          Leon huffed. "Whatever. I didn't want to do this in front of you because you have the emotional range of a tablecloth"—my eyes narrowed—"and you kind of come off as a massive prude, so . . ." Sofia tilted her head to the side, silently urging him to continue the conversation instead of insulting me. "Look, fine. Hear it. I'm guessing you probably know about this anyway. Must have been written on her autopsy."

          "What was?"

          "June was . . . well." He stared down at his feet. "June was pregnant when she died."

          The street fell silent. It felt like a true punch in the gut, sucking all the air from inside my lungs, and I was floating by the time I took a step back and made Sofia drop her hand. Her face had grown pale, eyes open wide in shock, and she searched my face for some sign of knowledge coming from me.

          I didn't know.

          I hadn't read the autopsy report simply because I had assumed my parents would tell me all I needed to know. I just needed the cause of death, not any other details, but this? This was something big, something that could be a potential motive behind her death. One would assume my parents would have told me something about it, but that was yet another thing they'd decided to keep from me.

          Leon refused to look at me, with guilt weighing down on his shoulders. He didn't look at Sofia either, even though he had come all the way to our street to talk to her. Hell, I was glad he wasn't looking my way; as soon as he did, I'd slam him into the ground.

          I knew the type of person he was—the type of person his family had raised him to be, and being a father at seventeen went against everything he was supposed to be. June would have told someone about it—if she knew it herself—but the fact that she hadn't even told Sofia worried me. Shouldn't that be the type of stuff best friends shared with one another?

          There were two possible situations.

          Either June didn't know, hence why she never told anyone about it, not even Sofia, or she was scared. Could that be why she'd been missing ballet practice?

          "How do you know?" Sofia eventually asked, in a weak voice.

          "They, um, they said they'd found my DNA under her fingernails, so I had to somewhat explain how it got there. Look, nothing happened that night," he insisted. "I didn't hurt her. There are plenty of ways that someone's DNA can get under another person's fingernails. It's not rocket science."

          "Like what?"

          He threw her a deadpan look. "Really? You're seriously asking me that right now?"

          "Watch it," I intervened. "Watch your tone."

          Leon dramatically placed a hand on his hip and turned to me. "Like I said, I didn't want to have this conversation in front of you for this exact reason. I'm guessing this is also why you didn't know—because neither your parents or June thought you had enough maturity to—"

          Everything around me was red.

          I barely felt my arm swinging in an arch, much like I barely felt my fist slamming against his cheek. Sofia let out a whimper before jumping back, covering her mouth with her hands, and stared at me in panic. My chest was heavy, heavier with every breath I took, and I just knew.

          I knew what he had done. He'd been lying this whole time—about not having been at the motel, about not knowing June was pregnant, about not having had anything to do with what happened to her.

          June had mentioned ruined plans. Unfortunately, people talked, and she'd always been an easy target for gossip; if word about her pregnancy got out, she'd be the talk of the town. She thought it would ruin her reputation, but Leon must have thought it would hurt him a lot more than it would hurt her—simply because, in his head, the entire town revolved around him and his family.

          It would be a permanent stain in his previously impeccable record. He simply couldn't let that happen.

          "You killed her," I hissed. Leon's eyes widened. "You killed her, you bastard. Didn't you?"

          "No—"

          My fingers clenched around the fabric of his jacket to pull him back to me and force him to look me in the eyes. I saw despair, but I also saw guilt. "You couldn't let it ruin it, couldn't you? You killed her just so no one would judge you."

          "Meridian," Sofia called, but her voice faded into the background, getting mixed with the pouring rain slamming into the roof above our heads.

          "You killed my sister!" I shook him, and he closed his fingers around my wrists. I was taller, stronger—the exact same advantages he'd had over June. "You—"

          He cut me off by headbutting me right under my left eye, which was certain to leave a nasty bruise. It worked as intended, as it made me drop him, but, even when I staggered backward, I still delivered an elbow hit to his chin. He fell to the wooden porch, right in front of Sofia, and her hand reached out for the front door.

          Everything past that was a blur. I punched and punched until my knuckles were raw, until someone had to pull me back. Sofia was clinging to her mother, as pale as a ghost, and Paul Wineheart struggled to keep me away from a whimpering Leon and the bloody mess that was now his face.

          "You're going to regret what you did," I threatened. "You're going to pay."

          "You're lucky if he doesn't press charges, actually," Joyce dryly retorted. "What the hell happened here?"

          I turned to her, trying to break free from Paul's iron grip. "He killed my sister!" Joyce narrowed her eyes. "I can't—I couldn't—"

          "I didn't kill her," Leon whined. "I swear I didn't."

          "We should read you your Miranda rights while we're at it, shouldn't we? Anything you say can and will be used against you—"

          "I think you should go home, Mer," Sofia murmured, and the look on her face shattered me. Joyce wrapped an arm around her, as though to pull her inside. "We'll talk later, okay? Thanks for driving me home."

          "Sof—"

          "Go home, Meridian, please," Joyce insisted, though her tone had softened considerably. Paul decided it was safe to let me go and reached out a hand to let Leon stand up, even if he did so with wobbly steps. I wanted to be a lot angrier than I was—after all, he could have killed my sister and every evidence pointed towards that—but maybe I had crossed a line. "Let's hope you're not getting into trouble over this."

          It wasn't really a threat—it was more of a warning. It wasn't directed at me, anyway; it was almost a plea for Leon to not press charges. I gulped.

          "It's fine," he grumbled. "I'm not pressing charges. You're not the first to do that."

          Sofia and Joyce entered the house, while Leon walked back towards his car. I had no idea how in the world he was supposed to drive like that, and I should have been a decent person and offered him a ride, in spite of what had just happened, but I kept my mouth shut.

          That seemed to be a recurrent situation.

          Paul swung back and forth on his heels. "I think this is the time for me to give you The Talk." I groaned, as the pain in my cheekbone intensified. "I like you, Meridian. I think you're an okay guy, and Sofia is happy when she's with you."

          "Except for now."

          "Except for now," he echoed, in agreement. "She doesn't need this. She doesn't deserve more heartache after what happened to Juniper, and neither do you." I glanced at the window and saw her sitting on the stairs leading up to the upper floor of the house, soaked to the bone, and sobbing against Joyce's shoulder. The red had dissipated, and I saw things more clearly now—I saw the chaos and destruction I had caused. "If you want to be around Sofia, this cannot happen again, or I will call the police myself." He pointed a warning finger at me. "Do not hurt my daughter, Meridian. I mean it."

          "I won't, sir," I mumbled. I'd always called him Paul. "I'm sorry."

          "I know." He sighed. "I truly hope you find what you're looking for."

          Then, he slammed the door in my face.

          I only heard from Sofia around two weeks later. I hadn't tried to contact her, other than occasionally running into her around town—as I had already moved back to my dorm room—so it certainly came as a surprise when my phone pinged with a text.

          SOF, 03:11 PM: I miss you.

          SOF, 03:11 PM: I just think we need some time apart.

          SOF, 03:11 PM: Stop by my house if you need anything.

ME, 03:12 PM: I miss you too.

This person has blocked you.

yikes.

Iydiamartin you said this was going to happen. so here u go. GO APE

(this is a life is strange reference. ily warren)