Page 54
Story: These Shattered Memories
His eyes land on the bottle and glass of whisky and then on my face. “Thank you for last night. I was in no shape to get home without getting in some sort of trouble, so thanks.”
There are dark circles under his eyes. Clearly he had as hard a time getting to sleep as I did.
Good.
“Welcome.” I tilt my head. “How’s the hangover?
He doesn’t answer, but the look on his face is answer enough. I lift my glass, but he doesn’t turn to leave. Instead, he lingers, and I worry he’ll bring up the fact that he asked me to kiss him—if he remembers it.
“Why?” he asks after a moment.
“Why what?”
“Why did you come last night?”
“I’ll answer that if you answer my question,” I say. As much as we agreed not to ask each other why we want to know who is behind Haze, I suddenly want to know. I’ve always known everything about Alex. Not knowing this is driving me crazy.He’sdriving me crazy.
“What would you like to know?”
I smile. “Why do you want to know about who is behind Haze?”
I watch him bite his lower lip as he steps further into the kitchen, but he doesn’t hesitate when he opens his mouth. “Because if I don’t, then someone I love goes down for a murder she didn’t commit.”
I know who he is talking about immediately.
Halle.
I feel no sense of triumph, no hint of smug joy from extracting the truth from him, because suddenly it all makes sense. He’s doing this to protect his sister. My stomach twists, my voice coming out strained when I speak. “Alex.”
He smiles, and it’s full of so much sadness, I almost hate myself for how I’ve behaved.
“You wanted to know the truth, right? There it is.”
Chapter Twelve: Alex
As soon as I say the words, I can’t help but think that the last thing I should be doing is talking to him about Halle. Rowan watches me from where he sits, his eyes unreadable in the dim silver morning light, and I get that overwhelming feeling of dread again.
Sure, I was drunk last night, but I was fully aware of what I was saying—asking him. I can still feel his hands on me, the warmth from his solid, muscled body against mine and the heat pooling at the pit of my stomach, desperate for more.
I wanted him to kiss me so badly, but he didn’t, and the familiar feeling of rejection is like slick oil inside me.
“Your sister,” Rowan says knowingly. “Halle.”
I freeze. I’ve never told Rowan about Halle. Back then, I only shared slivers of unimportant truths that almost made me seem real. “How do you know about her?”
He has the decency to look a little embarrassed. “I know everything about you, Alex.”
Something about it makes me shiver, but I do my best to stop myself from bolting.
“But what does a murder in Flower District have to do with Haze?”
If I tell him the truth now, then there is no going back. He could use whatever information I share against me, and I would have nothing to protect myself.
But maybe if I tell him this, he can tell me something too. A trade. It’s a deal with the devil, but what else do I have to lose? I’ve already humiliated myself.
“Someone is blackmailing me.”
Rowan lifts an eyebrow, and the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. I tell him everything, from Richard Arnold Jr. to the mysterious emails in my inbox.
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