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I look around for a second, wondering if he’s speaking to me, but his eyes are still trained on me and he’s smiling.

“Oh, uh,” I begin, “I hope you win.”

His smile spreads into a full grin. “Are you into hockey? You’re not an Emeralds fan, are you?”

He’s husky, with a full beard and deep-set brown eyes. He looks nothing like Keller, but he’s still attractive, just not as intimidating, and that makes me feel a little more at ease than I did in Summit.

I know I’ve been off my game for a while, but I won’t allow myself to think about why that is.

I allow myself to smile back, leaning in a little closer to him. “Definitely not. I don’t know the first thing about hockey.”

“Well, there’s this thing called a puck…” he says, a glint of humour in his eyes.

I hear myself laugh, enjoying the deep timbre of his voice. “I know that much.”

“Great,” he says. “I’m Sam, by the way. Can I buy you a drink?”

I look down at my phone again. Still no word from Halle. “Yeah, why not? And it’s Alex.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Alex.” He says the words like he really means them and when he grabs a stool to sit next to me, I tell myself to relax. There’s nothing wrong with a little flirting. It’s a welcome distraction from the shitshow that is currently my life. Maybe I can go home with him and distract myself even more.

Sam buys me a drink and by the end of the game, we’re two shots and four beers in. I feel adequately buzzed and a little unbalanced. His hand comes to rest on my thigh suggestively and it’s like cold water has been dumped on top of my head. It’s the same thing that always happens when another man touches me. My body tenses, hating the contact.

Except from one man.

Before I can linger on those thoughts, my phone suddenly vibrates, and Halle’s face appears.

“Sorry, I need to take this,” I say to Sam, sliding off the stool and rushing outside before she cuts the call.

“Halle?” I answer, slightly breathless. “Are you okay?”

“You sound like you just ran a marathon,” she says. “I’m fine. They just asked a bunch of questions, same ones from the night Richard died. My lawyer mostly answered for me, anyway. She doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about. They don’t have anything solid.”

I feel myself relax, but that uncomfortable feeling still rests at the pit of my stomach remembering the conch shell they found in the apartment. But Halle is okay, and that’s all that matters for now.

“Right,” I say. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine,” she says, then pauses. “Wait, are you out?”

As if on cue, a loud chorus of groan and swears comes from inside the bar. They must be losing then. “Yeah, I just came out for a drink.”

More like six,I think, but I don’t tell her that.

“Be safe, okay?”

“Always,” I tell her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

The line goes dead, and I stand there for a second, unsure of what to do. I could go back in there and talk to Sam, but I hate the feeling of his hand on my thigh. I also know it’s notjust Sam’s hand on my thigh or Halle’s case that has my mind reeling.

It’s Rowan.

It’s always Rowan fucking Vasilyev.

I keep wondering why he didn’t just stab me, why the tattoo stopped him. I desperately want to know and before I can stop myself, I find myself pressing his contact on my phone. I don’t expect him to answer, especially after we left things, but on the fourth ring, I hear his level voice saying my name and it sends a chill up my spine.

“Alex?”

My shoulders fall and blow out a quiet breath. “Why didn’t you kill me?”