Page 60 of Twisted Truths

Pain twists his features, and I’m reminded of the images Grimshaw sent me. The ones that showed there was something between Gabriel and my sister. I don’t want to admit it, but he cared about her.

I can’t bring myself to look at Hadley because I’m worried that if I do, I’ll want to cross the room and lose myself in her. But I can’t do that in front of him. So, I keep my eyes locked on Gabriel.

“I didn’t kill them.” His voice is low but firm. “I’ve been trying to help you figure out who did.”

A scoff slips from my lips before I can stop it. “How have you been doing that?”

“I’m paying Hayden Grimshaw.”

Chapter Twenty-One

HADLEY

Nash freezes, his lips parted in shock as he stares at Gabriel.

Who’s Hayden Grimshaw? And what is Gabriel paying him for?

Before the questions can form on my lips, Nash asks his own. It’s one word, but it’s laced in so much pain I’m surprised it doesn’t bring him to his knees. “Why?”

My heart twists. He looks so broken.

Gabriel places his unfinished bowl of pasta on the ornate wooden coffee table in front of us. “Because I don’t believe she did it, and I want to know who did.”

“Why should I believe you had nothing to do with it?” Nash’s voice is hoarse, and he hasn’t moved from the doorway.

I ache to go to him, to comfort him, but I know they need to clear the air and put all their demons behind them. So, I remain glued to my seat, but my eyes are fixed on Nash, the man who makes my heart race every time he’s near.

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” Gabriel says quietly. “Especially with our history.”

Nash clenches his jaw, but when he doesn’t say anything, Gabriel continues.

“I’m not your enemy. I grew up with my parents’ beliefs brainwashed into me, and it took me losing someone I love and having my heart ripped clean from my chest to realise there are darker things going on behind the scenes.” He grimaces. “I wish I could say Maddy and Zara were the only casualties, but we both know it’s not true.”

“So, you think they had something to do with Tom as well?” Nash asks.

Who’s Tom?

Gabriel sighs. “Yeah, I think they had everything to do with Tom.” He pauses. “How’s he doing?”

Guilt flickers over Nash’s face and his shoulders slump. “Last I heard from his sister, he’s still in an assisted living facility. He wasn’t doing well.”

“Who’s Tom?” I ask, unable to keep quiet anymore.

Nash and Gabriel share a loaded look.

My stomach sinks; I’m not going to like whatever I’m about to hear.

“Tom was my best friend in high school,” Nash finally says, his voice low and rough around the edges as he sinks into the armchair across from Gabriel. “We played basketball together. Practically inseparable.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I thought I knew everything about him. But I didn’t.”

I shift in my seat, unsure where the story is going.

“Tom’s dad was … not a very nice guy. He had everyone in Barrenridge fooled, though. Stan Keeland was a well-respected man of the community. A member of the school board, volunteer firefighter, and president of the local cricket club. But he had a dark side that he would take out on his wife and kids. Tom’s sister, Jess, was spared most of it, but he and his mum weren’t so lucky. Stan was smart. He used his belt in places he knew Tom could keep covered. I had no idea. He’d always wait to shower last after a game or training, or he’d make excuses to do it at home. We were none the wiser. I always thought he was just private. I never pushed.”

A low growl passes Gabriel’s lips, but Nash ignores him and keeps going. I feel like he’s been holding this in for too long, and now he simply wants to purge himself of whatever happened back then.

“When we were sixteen, not long after the Solomon’s had brought Sunfire Circle to Barrenridge, Tom and I ran into Gabriel and his brothers at the swimming hole.” He lifts his eyes, flicking to Gabriel before settling on me. “The same place you and I had our first kiss.”

My cheeks heat as the memory flickers through my mind. I press my lips together. Now is not the time to be thinking about the intensity of that kiss or the way it lit something inside me.