Page 49

Dallas

“She’s going to connect the dots and call the police on you,” Alex chuckles from the other side of the closet.

“She will not!” I snap over my shoulder as I survey my shoes, trying to decide on the perfect pair.

Nothing flashy, because tonight I have to be strategic; fitted white top, simple jeans, and chunky sandals. I need everyone to pay attention to what I’m saying, not what I’m wearing.

“No? She managed to survive your brother. You don’t think she developed some intuition and self-preservation skills since then?”

“Brett doesn’t have to worry about me. And, besides, Colson’s medicated now.”

A burst of laughter escapes Alex’s mouth as he pulls a clean t-shirt over his head. I’ve been doing my homework on Brett, just like I have for Bowen. But, in this case, I’m trying to draw her in rather than keep her at a distance like him.

Until he can be appropriately destroyed.

Alex takes a seat on the tufted bench in the middle of the closet and starts pulling on his usual scuffed up brown Ariat boots. “So, what’s your plan, Angelína? ”

“She always meets her best friend at Calhoun’s on Thursdays after work. If we stop there on the way to dinner, it’ll be just enough time to run into her, ” I say with air quotes, “and invite her to your birthday next month.”

I am excited about that part, aside from the fact I’m using it as an opportunity to draw Brett deeper into the Lutz sphere. I’m planning the whole thing—soft lights, music, and a catered dinner party on the rooftop of our building. Aiden offered his house which, to the ordinary person, sounds fantastic. Who wouldn’t want to host a party on his palatial estate? However, I don’t want to think about what kind of debauchery happened there in high school involving my husband and brother while I’m sipping fancy drinks and making sure there are enough candles for the cake—German chocolate. I just have to make sure that Adrian and Luca don’t roll up with a handle of Tvarscki, hell-bent on getting Alex wrecked.

“Solid.” Alex lets his foot fall to the floor with a thud. “Then let’s hope you’re right about tonight.”

“She’s very rigid about her routines.”

“That’s the truth,” Alex mutters under his breath.

“Hmm, I wonder why you all get along so well,” I reply wryly.

Brett’s even more strict about her schedule than Alex, which I didn’t think was possible.

“You’re right, if she’s not there tonight, it means she’s probably dead and we have bigger problems.”

“Exactly.” I lean into the mirror and start combing my fingers through my hair. “I need Colson to see that she’s here, but think it’s total coincidence.” I shoot a diabolical grin at his reflection. “Like, oh yeah, that’s just my friend from work! ”

“Speaking of which, why’s he still up in the great white North?” Alex asks. “We’ve been working on him, but even Mase hasn’t been able to convince him to come back down.”

Alex is right, I need to check in with Sergei soon, and the drive to Calhoun’s seems like the perfect time to do it.

“I’ve been busy,” Sergei replies when I ask him for an update. “Your brother’s a stubborn asshole, but it won’t be long now.”

That’s an understatement.

I always enjoy our clandestine phone calls from the top of the world, but sometimes the connection is so bad and his accent is so thick that I spend half the conversation asking him to repeat himself. I feel terrible when that happens, but at least he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Alright,” I sigh, my patience deteriorating each time I speak to him. “I know this is asking a lot, and I really appreciate you agreeing to help me.” Because I do.

“How can I refuse?”

Sergei is a very interesting person and I’ve learned two things about him; he lives in a grey area where context means everything and he’s constantly assessing risk and reward, but once he makes a decision, the world turns to black and white and it’s do or die.

“I’m so close, Brett’s here and I know Bowen’s going to crack. He’s given me all these pieces, but I need something to connect them all. If Colson came back…” I trail off for a moment, tasting the excitement before it fades away again. “I think he would throw Bowen off-balance.”

“Loud and clear, little sister,” Sergei replies in his signature monotone.

“I just hope I’m not miscalculating, you know? I can’t be wrong, there’s too much at stake.”

“Don’t worry, Queen, I’d bet on you any day of the week.”

“Thanks, I just—”

Wait, what?

An eerie sense of déjà vu hijacks my train of thought, and before I can respond, Sergei gives a curt farewell and he’s gone. But before I can think too much about it, I feel a faint buzz somewhere in my lap. I look down at my hand, but it’s not my regular phone vibrating, it’s the faithful burner in my bag. This is the first I’ve heard from Bowen since that night in the barn— his barn—with Austin.

BOWEN (6:02PM): Hey fucker

ME (6:02PM): Ur still alive?

BOWEN (6:03PM): Been busy…vacation turned into unexpected events

ME (6:03PM): Excuses. Trying to get out of paying me back are you?

BOWEN (6:04PM): Plans fell through. But I have something better. Newly acquired investment. Not as volatile.

I’m sure , I roll my eyes. We’ll see if he comes through with a shred of useful information or if I have to bleach my eyeballs and come up with a different plan.

“I still don’t know how you do it,” Alex comments as I toss the phone back into my bag, “keep talking to him so he’ll trust you and tell you things.”

I gaze out the windshield for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain it.

“Everything else melts away,” I finally say. “Colson found Evie, and he and Mason brought her out of the woods. But everyone needs to know how she got there, and that’s the only thing that matters when I talk to him. Maybe that’s what I have to do, and everything else mutes just enough to make it bearable and keep going back to find the answers.”

Alex reaches over and weaves his fingers through mine. “You have more fortitude than anyone I’ve ever met.”

We’ll see if I do by the time we get to where we’re going after Calhoun’s.

I can invest so much time and effort into tricking Bowen, a rapist, murderer, and sociopath, into thinking I’m someone I’m not, but I’m psyching myself out over something that will become routine after tonight.

As expected, Calhoun’s is packed with only standing room by the outdoor bar. But we’re not staying long enough for it to matter. I just need to find Brett and be my cheery and upbeat self. She’s so kind, and I can tell she really wants to make friends, but something keeps her at a distance, like she’s afraid to get close to anyone.

Colson. It’s probably Colson. That jerk-face.

Standing close to Alex, we scan the crowd for Brett until I catch a glimpse of her signature strawberry blonde ringlets at the far end of the patio, sitting at a table across from another girl with long, dark hair. That has to be her best friend, Barrett.

Like I said, she likes her routines.

I look up at Alex with an excited grin and we begin making our way through the crowd. But just before we break through on the other side, a man approaches Brett from behind, swings his leg over the bench, and sits down next to her. I gasp and come to a dead halt, unable to process the scene before me.

No.

Why is Bowen here?

And why is he sitting next to Brett?

Our Brett.

Alex grabs my waist and spins me around, high-tailing it back to the opposite end of the bar before we’re spotted by either of them.

“Why is he here?” I hiss. “What the fuck is going on?”

For the first time, Alex looks like he doesn’t know what to say as he peers through the crowd at Bowen sitting shoulder-to-shoulder next to Brett. She looked surprised to see him, but now she’s speaking to him like she knows him, and I have no idea how. She’s never mentioned him, or any man for that matter. All I can do is drag my hands up and down my face in frustration.

So, this is what Bowen meant. Newly acquired investment. Not as volatile.

“Alright,” Alex sets his jaw and looks down at me, “it’s your call, what do you want to do?”

I can’t take my eyes off of them; Brett with her glowing smile and Bowen in a crisp polo with his slick black hair brushed out of his face, dressed up like he’s not a venomous serpent just waiting to strike. I can’t walk up and start talking to her now, but I can’t just leave. I have to do something.

“I’m going to speak to him,” I utter through clenched teeth. “I’m going to wait for him to leave the table and I’m going to speak to him.” I look up at Alex with resolve. “So that he can see I’m still here.”

Alex holds my eyes and then gives a sharp nod, his expression unchanged except for the slight glint in his eye. Because he understands. Plans have changed, but I won’t let Bowen leave here blissfully unaware.

He’s still walking free— and so am I.

I’m on borrowed time and we can’t stay here long, so I make it count. Propping my phone up on the bar top in front of me, I point the lens straight ahead at their table and zoom in. It would be a lovely candid photo if not for the ghoul sitting next to my future sister-in-law. But I snap the photo, capturing both their faces clear as day.

No sooner do I lower my phone then Bowen rises from the table and heads for the bar. It’s a wonder he doesn’t feel my gaze burning a hole through his temple while he orders his drinks. But this is my chance, I can’t get scared now. I look up at Alex, as if to absorb some kind of residual courage before confronting the chimera haunting my existence.

Alex bows his head and presses his nose into my hair. “I’m here,” he says in a voice that sounds like a distance rumble of thunder.

Then he rests his elbows on the edge of the bar and watches like a hawk as I weave through the crowd. Bowen gazes aimlessly at the barback, unaware of my presence. It takes him a few seconds to feel my eyes on him and realize I’m leaning on the bar right next to him.

He says nothing at first, only looks me up and down a few times with a blank, emotionless stare.

“You’re here,” he finally says, narrowing his eyes with intrigue.

“I’m here,” I reply with a flash of my eyes.

Then I glance across the patio at Brett.

“So,” I reach over and swipe my fingertip along Bowen’s forearm, over the bluebonnets trailing up to his elbow.

He flinches ever so slightly, his subtle discomfort amplified when he hears my next question.

“How do you know my friend, Brett?”

●●●

“What if she hates me?”

Alex glances across the console at me through hooded eyes. “Why would she hate you? You’re perfect.”

“I fuck her grandson on camera for money in front of thousands of people!” I hiss back.

His brow shoots up and he swivels his head toward me. “Are you planning on telling her that?”

“No…” I turn to the window, gazing across the meadows at the familiar blue water tower peeking over the tree line.

I’ve been looking forward to this day for weeks. Why am I punking out now?

Because this is basically an audition for the rest of my life.

At least that’s what it feels like. And it’s my own doing and no one else’s. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it a thousand times over.

“Hey,” Alex lifts my arm and kisses the top of my hand, “don’t let him ruin your night. We adapt. Nothing’s changed.”

The late summer sun hits the side of Alex’s face as it dips low in the sky and, for a split-second, he looks exactly like he did the day I skipped school with him freshman year of high school to float down the frigid creek on his paddle board. He’s still there, behind his sharp jaw, 50 pounds of extra muscle, and severe eyes that could make the devil himself cower in fear. I know him like no one else does—not even Colson—and I know he’s right.

Letting the anxiety out of my shoulders with a deep breath, I look down at the white box sitting in my lap. Gently, I lift the lid and peek at the delicate, hand-blown stems of glass flowers with their deep violet-blue petals popping against their pillow of white padding.

Texas bluebonnets.

Alex, Luca, and Adrian drove all the way down to Texas to personally pack and move their grandmother’s vast collection of glass art ranging from stained glass suncatchers to rooster figurines the color of the rainbow. Apparently, she also loves Texas bluebonnets and, according to Alex, they’re protected and you can’t pick them or else risk getting shot by a drone. It has to be a sign, right? I have to believe it’s a sign that even Bowen can’t ruin something as mysterious and wild as this.

Alex’s words echo in the back of my head like a mantra that’s keeping me calm.

You take all the awful things in the world and make them good again.

I’m still not sure whether he was talking in his sleep that night I gave him the new quilt or if he even meant for me to hear it, but I did.

I replace the lid and smooth my hands over the top of the box. She’ll love them. Maybe she’ll be so enamored by the glass flowers that she won’t notice any mistakes I make. Or maybe she’ll lift them up to the light and they’ll accidentally blind her. What if I blind Alex’s grandmother the first time I meet her? Luca will die laughing, Adrian will shun me, and Alex will live in eternal humiliation and guilt because his loser wife brought shame to his family.

I blink, trying to remember where I am.

What the fuck am I thinking?

Suddenly, the truck rolls to a stop and Alex shifts into park. I glance around, surprised to see his grandmother’s house sitting right in front of us, the driveway packed with vehicles.

“Ready?” Alex grins, thoroughly entertained by my anxiety.

“Yes,” I reply, lifting my chin and trying to sound as confident as ever.

Then he exits the driver’s side and I try to calm my nerves as he rounds the bumper. I need to get a grip. I could walk right up to Bowen less than an hour ago, even after what he did, because I have absolutely no respect for him. But this…

Alex opens my door and helps me step out of the truck with the box cradled securely in my arm. Then he cups the sides of my face and kisses me on the forehead before taking my hand and leading me up to the front door. There’s no more time to dwell on it, because just as I step up to the porch, the door opens.

“ Alexí! ” a bright, vibrant voice calls from the doorway.

The house behind her is abuzz with activity, punctuated by shouts and laughter. She’s the exact same height as me, with glimmering russet eyes and deep burgundy lips framed by shiny obsidian hair. And after holding Alex in a tight embrace while simultaneously chiding him for not sending her squirrel-proof birdfeeders, she turns to me with outstretched hands, inviting me to come closer.

I step forward and carefully offer her the box with a smile I can only hope is half as radiant as hers.

“ Buenas noches, mucho gusto conocerla, Abuelita… ”