Nah, fuck that. I ain’t no snitch.

“Myself.”

My dad doesn’t buy it. “Bullshit. My friend at the precinct told me the packets in your car all have a unique stamp on them. A unique stamp that belongs to some kingpin they’ve been trying to nail for years now.”

I want to laugh because Loki isn’t exactly a kingpin in the drug game—not yet, anyway—but I do the wise thing and keep my mouth shut.

Disappointment flickers in his brown eyes. “You know, I was really hoping for once you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Given he recently found out I fucked his wife behind his back, his dig is more than warranted.

However, I can’t focus on that because he snatches my finger.

I try to yank my hand back, but I’m still in cuffs. “What the fuck—”

He presses the pad of my finger to the button on my now cracked phone screen.

“Goddammit, Dad, stop,” I bark as he rummages through my cell, looking for dirt.

Loki might not be kingpin status yet, but he won’t hesitate to have someone shoot my ass for ratting him out to the cops.

Then again…it would be justified.

An eye for an eye.

He holds up my phone triumphantly. “Got all the information I need. Thank you for being so accommodating.” Determination illuminates his face as he heads for the door. “Be mad at me all you want, Oak, but I will do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up rotting away in a jail cell.”

Rotting away in a jail cell is exactly what I deserve.

My guts twist with nerves as I walk toward the courtroom.

As if sensing my apprehension, my dad says, “Don’t worry. We made a hell of a good deal in exchange for you giving up Loki.”

Funny…because I don’t remember giving up anyone or making any kind of deal.

“Negligent vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated,” I whisper, repeating what he told me earlier when he informed me he pulled some strings and got me on the docket today.

“That’s right. It’s a wobbler, but—” Dad gestures to my actual lawyer. “We got them to agree to a misdemeanor.”

My lawyer slaps me on the back. “You’ll be on house arrest for six months…tops.”

Just like a ton of other wealthy, white privileged kids with connections.

My dad grins. “You’ll be fine. The time will fly by.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

No wonder Hayley’s parents are devastated.

Not only did I kill their only daughter—and put the girl I love in a coma that left her with amnesia—I’m about to walk without so much as a slap on the wrist.

Bile works up my throat as we amble through the courtroom doors.

It’s not fair.

“All rise for the honorable Judge Gennett.”

My muscles lock up, and a sick sensation slides down my esophagus as my lawyer starts talking.

She turned twenty-one in May.

For reasons I never understood, she loved listening to Justin Bieber on the highest volume possible and chugged sugar-free Red Bull every morning for breakfast.

Fries were her favorite food, but she didn’t let herself have them often because she claimed they made her thighs fat…but they didn’t.

The collar of my shirt hugs too tight around my neck.

She told me she loved me over dinner at Sushi Sushi for our sixth-month anniversary.

But I couldn’t say it back…because I didn’t feel it.

However, I wanted her to find someone who would.

But she never will…

Because she’s dead.

While I’m standing here in a courtroom…two minutes from freedom.

Cocking my head, I spot Hayley’s parents. They’re huddled away in a far corner of the bench on the opposite side of the room, holding on to each other like they’re all they have left.

Because they are.

Her father is trying his best not to cry, while his wife quietly sobs into a tissue.

Hayley’s never gonna graduate college and be a vet like she always dreamed.

Her mother will never help her daughter plan her wedding.

And her father will never walk his daughter down the aisle.

Because I selfishly took the life they created.

And soon, I’m going to brush past Hayley’s parents and go on living mine…

While their daughter remains buried six feet under.

How the hell are they ever supposed to find peace in that?

Easy. They won’t.

“I hereby sentence you to six months of house arre—”

“No.” My voice punches into the courtroom with the force of a bomb. “I don’t want house arrest.”

I’ve spent twenty-one years of my life creating messes that I’ve either let someone else clean up or run away from.

Not this time.

“What are you doing?” my father mutters, but I ignore him.

The judge blinks, no doubt caught off guard by my outburst. “Young man, from my understanding you made a plea agreement for six—”

“Fuck the plea agreement.”

A few people in the courtroom gasp. Hayley’s parents lift their heads.

“Excuse me, young man,” the judge says tersely. “One more word out of you and I’ll hold you in contempt.”

“Do something,” my father hisses to my lawyer.

Contempt isn’t long enough.

“I apologize, Your Honor,” my lawyer chimes in. “My client is going through a—”

For fuck’s sake.

“I’m not going through anything,” I interject. “Hayley’s parents are. So are the Covingtons.”

Because of me.

Confusion spreads over Judge Gennett’s face. “Young man, I suggest you—”

“Negligent vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated…that’s what I’m charged with, right?”

The judge nods. “That is correct.”

“Can you charge me with murder instead?”

Because I killed her.

“Oakley,” my father snaps. “Stop talking. Now.”

The judge’s mouth falls open. “Are you telling me you intentionally kill—”

“No. I didn’t, but—”

“I’m sorry, your honor, my client is under a lot of stress.” My lawyer clears his throat. “He isn’t thinking clearly.”

The judge fixes his glasses. “Well, I suggest you figure out a way to de-stress him so he settles down, or I will hold him in contempt.”

Thinking quick, I search my brain, recalling the facts my lawyer rattled off about my charge earlier. “If charging me with murder isn’t possible…can you give me the year?”

The judge sighs. “Young man—”

“Look, you’re the judge, right? That means you get to override plea deals and can sentence someone to what the court allows for a particular charge.” I might not be a lawyer but being the kid of one means I do know some stuff. “Well, last I checked my charge is punishable by one year in prison in the state of California.” My insides tighten as I look him in the eyes. “And I’m asking you to sentence me to that year.”

It’s not much. Still a slap on the wrist, but Jesus fuck…it’s something.