I went straight to my room and called Mandy. She was the only person I could think of who would be able to help. Who would know what to do.

While I waited for her, I did my due diligence and transcribed the whole stupid, fucking interview, cursing both Tim and Rob in my head. And if Tim’s rant hadn’t been bad enough, I had forgotten to turn off the recording app at the end of the interview, so I had to listen to the whole thing all over again.

By the time Mandy got there, I was practically in tears. Without a word she enveloped me in a bear hug, which was an incredible feat for someone as petite as she was.

“Tell me everything,” she said, sitting me down on the bed and taking my hand.

I told her about what Tim had said, about Rob and his accusations. And I told her about last night with Nathan. Her eyes brightened when I confessed we had spent the night together but she said nothing, listening, her fingers laced with mine.

“Well, first of all, Tim is a douchebag,” she said with authority. “He wouldn’t know how to be a good guy if he got a PhD in the subject. And screw him for even insinuating that you’re unworthy of Nathan. You, Sophie Hall, are awesome and everyone that matters knows it. I know it, Chris knows it, Nathan’s family knows it, and Nathan definitely knows it.”

I sniffled. “Thanks, Mandy.” I knew that Tim was wrong about me, but sometimes you really need a friend to tell you that a jerk is being a jerk. But even her reassurance couldn’t help stifle the little voice in my head that said that maybe he was right about what Nathan thought of me. Not that he had used me, but that I wasn’t good enough for him. That I had allowed myself to imagine a future with him that couldn’t exist. That would never exist. The possibility of that being true sat heavily on my heart.

“And you’re right—nothing about this guy Rob’s story smells right. It doesn’t sound like Nathan to begin with and I can’t believe no one else he went to high school with would know about it.”

“The problem is that Tim doesn’t care. He’s going to print the story and that will put the proof of denial on Nathan. And even if he can prove that it isn’t true, just putting it out there could really hurt his chances with the majors.”

Mandy nodded seriously. “OK, so we just have to stop him from printing the story.”

“The only way we can do that is if we can prove to my editor that it’s fake and that it will damage the reputation of the paper if they print it.”

“So we have to find Becca,” Mandy concluded.

“But how? I don’t even know her last name.” I put my head in my hands, knowing that once I sent the transcript to Tim, he’d start writing the article and it would be a race against the clock to prove to Mike that it was based on false evidence.

Mandy smiled. “Well lucky for you, my dad’s the sheriff. He can ask his friends in Houston if they have an address for her. Bet if she knew Nathan, they know her last name and where she lives, or at least a number.” She paused for a moment. “And you said that this guy Rob was super sketchy, right?”

“Total stalker,” I nodded. “He was hoping that Tim would be able to help him find her again.”

“I would bet my brand new camera bag that she’s got a restraining order against him.”

“I hope so,” I said, thinking of that notebook of pictures he had collected.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out that she lives near enough for his visit to have violated that restraining order.”

I gave her a big grin. “Which would mean that Tim essentially helped a stalker get closer to his victim. Oh, my editor will not like that at all.”

* * *

As it turned out, Rebecca Harten lived just outside of Austin in Georgetown, Texas and she agreed to meet with both me and Mandy. We pulled up outside a bright yellow one-story home with cheery flowers planted out front. Becca was sitting on the porch and got up to greet us as we pulled into the driveway. She was wearing pants, and though I tried not to stare, I noticed that she had a slight limp.

“Howdy,” she waved. “Heard y’all wanted to talk to me about Nathan?”

“If you don’t mind,” Mandy said, her camera bag swung across her shoulder as usual.

“Not at all.” Becca led us inside and into the kitchen, also yellow and beautifully decorated, with fun vintage knick-knacks lining the walls. “Can I get you guys some lemonade?”

She looked as beautiful as she had in her yearbook photos, and smiled brightly at us once we were all settled at the table.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised it took someone this long to come talk to me about him,” she said.

The glass paused against my lips. Oh no.

Mandy, on the other hand, played it cool. “And why’s that?”

“Well, we did date for two years during high school,” Becca responded. “We were even prom king and queen. I always see that when people start getting famous, like Nathan is, everyone wants to start digging in their backyard for skeletons.”

“We’re not looking for skeletons,” Mandy was quick to note. “We actually were hoping to disprove one.”

“Oh?” Becca raised an eyebrow at us. “Well, that’s a new one, for sure.”

I leaned forward. “Do you remember a classmate name Rob Robles?”

A visible shudder went through Becca and her face darkened. “Of course I do. That asshole made my last year a living hell. He’s pretty much the reason I ended up transferring.”

I exchanged a glance with Mandy. So far, so good.

“Well, he’s been peddling a story about you and Nathan to my paper, the Register,” I told her, watching her eyebrows go up. But she remained silent. “He says that you were in a car accident after prom—that Nathan was drunk and drove his car into a tree. He says that you were injured.” I kept my eyes steady on her. “And that you lost your leg.”

Becca took a deep breath and my throat twisted.

“Is it true?” I asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

Without a word, she leaned down and rolled up her right pant leg to reveal a prosthetic. “He’s telling the truth,” Becca admitted, and my heart dropped. “At least, the version of the truth that Nathan wanted to tell.”

I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, a look of embarrassment and shame coming over her face. “Look, I was young and stupid. And Nathan, well, Nathan is a good guy. He told me I was drinking too much. He told me I shouldn’t be driving. But I did, and we crashed, and when I came to in the hospital, he had told everyone that he had been behind the wheel. And because I thought losing my leg was punishment enough, I let him take the blame. I let him do the community service and bear the brunt of his parents’ disappointment and my parents’ anger and I thought that because no one wanted to talk about it, and that the files were sealed because he was underage, that it wouldn’t matter in a few years. That we could just all forget about it.” She put her head in her hands. “But now I guess it’s time for me to come clean. To own up the mistake I made. Both of them.”

I reached out and took her hand. “I don’t think Nathan would want that. We want to put this story to rest, to leave it between the two of you where it belongs, instead of airing it out in front of the whole world.”

Becca looked at me. “Tell me what I can do.”