Page 39 of Twisted Truths (The Sunburnt Hearts #4)

Chapter Thirty

NASH

H adley is unlike any woman I’ve ever met.

Without even trying, she has captured my attention, and there’s no way I can lose her.

It’s going to be dangerous going up against the cult, but there’s no way I’m walking away from my nephew.

With Gabriel’s help, I’ll protect both Franklin and Hadley; while I’ve only known her for a short time, I know she’s my future. They both are.

Unable to sleep, I lie here with her in my arms while she gets some much-needed rest. When Gabriel gets back from Sydney, we’ll have to put a plan together to get Franklin out of the Circle and find evidence of Seraphina’s or Tanner’s involvement in my family’s murders.

I don’t know how we’re going to achieve any of that, but I’m hoping Gabriel will have some ideas.

Once we have the evidence we need, we’ll take it to Shane and clear Ziggy’s name. He’s proven himself to be trustworthy.

Hadley stirs in her sleep, and I tighten my hold on her, pressing my lips to her temple. She murmurs something unintelligible, and my mouth tugs up. She’s so freaking adorable.

As the soft morning light filters into my bedroom, and sleep still eludes me, I take to counting Hadley’s freckles. She has fifteen on her left cheek, eighteen on her right, and nine tiny brown spots dotting her petite nose.

I must eventually drift off, because when I open my eyes, she’s sitting up and reading a book, dressed in one of my Shamrock team hoodies that Clay sent to me after I signed the contracts, and fuck me if my dick doesn’t immediately jump to attention seeing her swamped in my clothes.

My head is nestled in her lap, her fingers raking absentmindedly through my curls.

“Morning,” I rumble, my voice still thick with sleep.

She smiles softy. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling?”

Her fingers pause for a beat before resuming, slower this time.

“A little sore,” she admits, a rosy hue staining her freckled cheeks. “But I’m … good. I feel good.”

“Good?” I tease, turning slightly to press a kiss on her thigh. The blush spreads down her chest.

“Nash,” she groans, placing the book face down on my bedside table.

“Yes, Hadley?” I feign innocence as my fingers dance along her skin.

She breathes out a shaky exhale, her eyes falling closed as her head tips back against the wall. Her nails scratch along my scalp and I grin. She squirms, so responsive to my touch.

“What are you doing?”

I roll over until I’m nestled between her thighs. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Gripping her hips, I move her down the bed until her pussy is exactly where I want it.

I pause for a second, giving her a moment to tell me to stop, but her lips remain closed as she stares down at me with hooded eyes.

Her chest heaves with anticipation, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I lean forward and run my tongue through her glistening folds.

We both groan, her sweet taste driving me wild. As much as I want to devour her, I’m wary of how sore she must be after last night, so instead, I take my time, slowly bringing her to the brink of pleasure with salacious licks and tender nips at her clit.

She writhes beneath me, humming her gratification. Her soft noises are my own private symphony.

My dick leaks pre-cum against my sheets, but this morning isn’t about me. It’s about taking care of her.

“Nash,” Hadley moans as I bury my tongue deep inside her, feeling her body quiver underneath me.

She’s close.

My thumb finds her clit, and the moment I touch it, she detonates, arching her back off the mattress, crying out, and grinding herself against me. Her legs tighten around my ears and I chuckle, giving her one last lingering lick before nipping at the inside of her thigh.

“So responsive, little possum,” I tell her, rolling onto my back and swiping the back of my hand over my mouth as I grin up at her.

She buries her head in her hands and shakes it. “You’re going to be the death of me Nash Stone.”

I laugh again. “Not a bad way to go, Hadley Jacobs. Death by orgasm.”

Hadley swats at my chest playfully. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I say, poking her in the side. “But if I get to wake up to the sight of you in my clothes every morning, you’re going to be my new favourite meal.”

Her stomach rumbles loudly, and she wraps her hands around it, blushing furiously .

“Speaking of meals…” I climb out of bed and grab my sweatpants, stepping into them. Once I’m dressed, I hold out my hand to her. “Let’s feed you.”

She lets me pull her from the bed, then searches for her underwear.

When she goes to pull on sweatpants, I stop her.

“My hoodie is like a dress on you, little possum. You don’t need more clothes.

Besides,” I add, pulling her into me and pressing a kiss to the tip of her cute little button nose.

“I’m not sure I’m finished with you yet. ”

Her hands slide up my chest to wrap around my neck, and I love the way her fingers toy with the hair at my nape. It’s familiar yet foreign at the same time, and it makes my heart beat faster. “If that’s the case, then we better fuel up,” she says sweetly, batting her lashes at me.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

This woman drives me fucking wild.

After making us a couple of omelettes, which we both shovel down like we haven’t eaten in weeks, I lean back in my chair, resting my hands behind my neck.

As much as I’d like nothing more than to return to my bedroom and lose myself in Hadley all day, I know I have a lot of work to do with cleaning out my family’s belongings and sorting out all their affairs before we can head back to the States at the end of next week.

Now Hadley and Franklin are coming back with me, I’ll need to organise a bigger apartment.

While my one-bedroom shoebox-sized apartment was perfect for a place to crash after killing myself at the gym and on the court, it’s way too small for the three of us, so I add calling Clay to my list of things to do.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Hadley says, collecting my plate and carrying it over to the sink.

I release a heavy sigh. “I need to start packing this place up.”

She leans back against the sink and looks over at me. “I’m so sorry, Nash. I know how difficult this must be for you.”

“Yeah,” is all I can muster up as a response.

I’ve been putting it off, gladly distracting myself with all the Gabriel and Hadley drama, but I know I can’t do that forever.

I have no plans to return to Barrenridge after I leave, so I need to get everything in order for the sale of the property.

Levi’s father-in-law has already offered to help with the sale of the livestock, and I’m so fucking grateful to him for helping run the land after everything happened.

Hadley comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pressing her lips to the top of my head. “I understand if you need to do this by yourself, but I’m here to help if you want it.”

A weight lifts off my chest. The difference between her offer and Levi’s is that she recognises this isn’t about obligation, it’s about grief. Hadley knows this is raw and deeply personal, and she’s not trying to force herself into the situation. She’s standing by me in it.

I swallow hard, tamping down the overwhelming emotions threatening to drown me once again. “I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

“Then we’ll do it together,” she reassures me. “But first we need to shower and get dressed.”

I grip her hand before she can move away and pull her into my lap, holding her tight and burying my head in her neck. “Thank you for always knowing how to make me feel better. ”

Hadley lets me hold her until I’m ready to let her go, but then we go shower—separately, at her suggestion, so we don’t get distracted, much to my annoyance—dress and meet back in my bedroom.

“Where do you want to start?” she asks.

“Ziggy’s room, I guess. After going in there yesterday for clothes, it seems less daunting now.”

She offers me a sad smile. “You can do this.”

“We,” I correct her, linking my fingers in hers and pulling her in for a quick kiss.

“We,” she agrees.

I let her guide me out of my bedroom and down the hall to my sister’s.

Armed with some packing boxes I found in the shed and some garbage bags, we get straight to work before I can overthink the task.

Anything I can’t bear to part with or that I think Franklin might want one day—or when he comes to me with questions about his mum—I’m putting into storage.

We sort everything else into piles to either donate or throw out.

Hadley doesn’t speak while we work, understanding how difficult this is for me as I go through Ziggy’s things. Every drawer, every scribbled note, every memory feels like peeling open a wound that hasn’t even begun to scab over.

She moves quietly around the room, folding my sister’s clothes and putting the things she’d like to keep into a suitcase while stuffing the rest into plastic bags for goodwill. I know Zara would want Hadley to have whatever she wanted.

As I’m pulling piles of old fashion and hairdressing magazines out from under the bed, something catches my eye half hidden in the shadows, tucked behind an old shoebox. I crouch down, crawling as far under her bed as I can to retrieve it, my fingers finally curling around the cool metal object.

It’s a silver compass .

The glass on the front has a large crack, but it still seems to work, the needle moving as I hold it up in the light.

My gut tells me it didn’t belong to Zara. She wasn’t into camping or nature walks of any kind. My sister was allergic to any and all forms of exercise or physical exertion. Yet something tugs at a thread in my memory, telling me I’ve seen it somewhere before.

“What is it?” Hadley asks, startling me from my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I admit, turning the compass over in my hands, almost dropping it when I notice the dark brown spots on it. My stomach churns. “I found it under the bed, but I don’t think it belongs to Zara.”

“Is that?—”

“Blood? Yeah, I think it is.”

Her face pales. “You think it belongs to Tanner?”

Rubbing a hand over my face, I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen it somewhere before, but I can’t figure out where, and I never met Tanner until the other week.”

Her brow furrows. “So, Tanner had an accomplice? Someone you might know?”

The thought churns my stomach. Could someone I know have been involved in murdering my family?

“I don’t know.” Those three words fill me with a heaviness.

We’re still no closer to figuring out who killed my family. Sure, we have our suspicions, but if this compass belongs to the murderer, then it isn’t Tanner Crawley or Seraphina Solomon.

With a sigh, I place the compass on Zara’s desk. “Let’s just finish packing. I want to get it over and done with.”

Hadley nods, but her eyes linger on the compass for a moment longer before she turns back to the bookshelf and the half-filled box of photo albums and books.

My mind swirls with questions I can’t answer and fears I’m not ready to name, but I force myself to return to the task at hand.

Crouching back down, I retrieve the shoebox from under her bed and open it up, finding a pile of letters from her high school friends, gushing about boys and clothes and their favourite tv shows.

Despite my dark mood, I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head when I read my own name in letters from Zara’s best friend, Sasha, only to feel a surge of anger when I realise she wasn’t at the funeral.

I’m distracted by a soft giggle behind me. I glance over at Hadley sitting cross-legged on the floor, a Barrenridge High School yearbook cracked open on her lap. “Nice hair, Troy Bolton,” she quips.

I walk over and peer down. There I am, age sixteen, grinning like an idiot, my arm slung around Tom’s shoulder after a basketball game. She’s not wrong about the hair. It flops over my forehead like Zac Efron circa High School Musical Three.

“Is that?—”

“Tom? Yeah, it is.”

“The two of you look like major troublemakers,” she remarks.

A reluctant half-smile tugs at my lips. “We were.”

She flips through a couple of pages, landing on a candid shot of me and Zara at some school event. She’s laughing, mid eye roll, and I’m clearly teasing her about something.

Hadley traces her fingers over Zara’s face. “She looks so happy here.”

“She was.”

It hits me hard then, how much life Zara had in her. How unfair it is that it was cut short before her son gets to know her.

“She deserved better,” I choke out.

Hadley closes the yearbook and gently places it in the box of things to keep. “We’ll make sure she gets justice.”

I nod, swallowing down the ache in my throat .

By the time we tape the last box shut, the room feels … hollow. The walls and shelves are bare, and all that’s left is the compass on the desk. A reminder that whoever did this is still out there.

Hadley slips her hand into mine as we stand in the doorway. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Her touch gives me strength and keeps me from falling apart. Zara needs me to stay focused. If I let my emotions control me, I’ll be useless for her son.

“Goodbye, Ziggy,” I whisper as we close the door behind us. “I promise Franklin will know you.”