Page 107

Annoyance courses through me at having to leave Eve’s side. I avoid it at all costs, more for my benefit than hers. Because just like she was having nightmares about me dying, I had the same about her.
I push out of my chair, and Eve looks up from her spot on the other side of the table.
I hold up my phone. “It’s my dad, I have to take this.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, but she doesn’t smile—something she hasn’t done much of all week.
Sometimes, I wish we never had that conversation. In a way, she seemed happier before. Happier in a situation that, in retrospect, might have been a little less fucked up than the aftermath our conversation has unearthed.
She makes a shooing motion with her hand. “Phoenix, I’m fine, just like the other five hundred and twenty-seven times I’ve told you. You can leave me alone for five minutes withoutsupervision.”
She’s right.
Of course she’s right.
But I can’t help it.
We both know she isn’t okay, even though she keeps telling me she is. Not that she should be after nearly getting killed and almost destroyed by my truths.
What made me tell her what really happened with her sister? I’d promised Connie not to tell anyone, but I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Eve deserved to know. Iwantedher to know. The truth must have been devastating for her, but I still hope it was the right thing to do. Even if this wound might never heal completely. I hope she’ll see there’s beauty in scars as they transform into reminders of our strength and resilience.
“I’ll be right back.” The phone stopped vibrating a while ago, and I’m still standing in the same spot.
She waves her hand toward the door again with a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Go on, now.”
I trudge toward the door, settled enough after seeing that tiny spark in her eyes. Does that mean I’m the reason for that flicker of life sometimes too? “Get Hold or Huxley if you need anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turn my back to her, so she can’t see how those words affect me, and slip out of the library. I’m fully aware she didn’t mean them in a sexual way, but my dick didn’t get the memo. She seems to have a direct line to it, despite how worried I am about her, and waking up next to her all week has been absolute torture. Although, I’ll gladly suffer if it means her nightmares stay away.
“Eve, if you think sleeping here with me will help with your nightmares, consider it done. You don’t even have to ask.”
What I really wanted to say was, “I don’t give a damn what you want, I’m not leaving your side. Not now that I know the truth. Not when I know you didn’t have a choice, suffered more of a loss, and lived in more anguish and sorrow in all those years than I could have ever imagined.”
“I killed her, Phoenix. I’m the reason my sister is dead.”
The pain and guilt have been eating away at her all those years. And even worse, she had to suffer in silence because she couldn’t tell anyone.
And she’s still suffering so much.
Every morning, I find her curled up with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she’ll fall apart otherwise.
Iwant to be the one to hold her every night, to offer her comfort and solace, to keep her safe. But I don’t say any of those things, not wanting to make her uncomfortable when I’m glad she’s at least next to me every night, even if she doesn’t touch me.
I want that motherfucker who did this to suffer, to make him feel only a small portion of what he’s caused. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and watch the life slowly, painfully drain out of his eyes. I want to know he will never feel an ounce of life in his body again because he deserves to rot in Hell for eternity.
The problem is, we’re still not any closer to finding him. Holden says he’s either using a burner phone, or one of those apps, making him untraceable. What makes this even harder is we don’t know who would know so much about both Evangeline’s life as well as mine. It could be one of the manyenemies my father has made for all we know at this point, which is pretty much nothing.
I step into my office and shut the door behind me with more force than necessary.
Rain pounds on the window, the sky dark and glum like it’s weeping for us—like it’s seeking revenge for what happened, just like I am.
I dial my father’s number without taking my eyes off the sky.
“What took you so long?” He doesn’t care about niceties or manners.
When my father says jump, he expects you to do it as high as possible without further prompts.