Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
What?
Before I can react, Donovan spins, his hands clenched into fists. “What the hell do you want?”
“Now, is that any way to talk to your brother?” Officer Cooper strolls into view, in full uniform, his gaze darting between us. The last time I saw the two of them side-by-side, I’d just gotten knocked out in a car wreck. This time, I have no such excuse. Now that I know to look for it, the family resemblance is clear: same shape to their blue eyes, though Cooper’s are lighter than Donovan’s; same slash of their high cheekbones; something similar about the angle of their jaws. But Cooper’s hair is a light, sun-streaked brown, and there’s a cruel tilt to his smile that I’ve never seen on Donovan’s face, even at his most annoyed with me.
“Half-brother,” Donovan mutters. He glares at Cooper. “I repeat: What do you want? We were having a conversation. Nothing to police here.”
“Tomato, tahmahto,” Cooper retorts, his smile widening. “I happened to be walking by. I overheard your conversation. And I just wanted to tell Rune: I believe her.”
Donovan turns the glare on me, and I swear I feel the blood in my veins turning to ice. “Of course you do,” he snaps. “It figures the two of you are in on this together.”
He sounds furious, but beneath the anger, I detect an unmistakable note of hurt. And why wouldn’t he feel that way? Last night, he told me exactly what Cooper did to him years ago. If he thinks I’m colluding with his brother to mock him all over again, no wonder he’s pissed off.
“We’re not in anything together. There is no ‘we,’” I tell him, turning to Cooper. “And what do you mean, you believe me?” Donovan’s right, Cooper just fucks with people because he can. It must be his m.o. Because there’s no way he, of all people, believes I’m telling the truth about my premonitions.
“I think it’s a pretty simple concept, Rune.” He sticks his hands in his blue uniform pants, scuffing his polished shoes on the grass. “You said you were cursed. And I’m inclined to think you’re telling the truth.”
“Oh, now you’re just being an ass.” Donovan takes one threatening step toward him, then another. Thank God the Sinsters can’t see us here. They’d be having a field day. “She tackled you out of the way of what she thought was a bus that would’ve run you over. You fucking arrested her for it. And then you hit her with your car. Sounds like you’re the one in the negative when it comes to karmic brownie points, Coop. ” He spits the nickname like it’s a malediction, taking yet another stride in Officer Asshat’s direction. Now, he’s close enough to grab his brother by the collar and strangle him. I’m not entirely sure he won’t.
I look between the two of them, unsure what to think. Is that all Cooper meant—that I’m some kind of bad-luck charm? Because the alternative—the alternative is?—
“Oh, that bus probably would’ve killed me,” Cooper drawls, indifferent to the six-foot-plus, two-hundred-pound data engineer bearing down on him like grim death. He actually looks amused; that cool smile has reached his eyes, and from the way Donovan’s shoulders stiffen, I don’t think he likes it one bit. “But, I mean, we can’t have people assaulting officers of the law. What would happen to our reputation then?”
Wait, what? “Did you just say you knew the bus would’ve run you over?” I step from behind Donovan, adrenaline whipping through me.
“Don’t think I stuttered.” Cooper’s tone is as obnoxious as ever, but the way he’s looking at me—there’s something else in his eyes. Something…conspiratorial. I can’t read minds, but if I could, I’d bet money that he’s trying to get me to ask Donovan to leave, so he and I can talk. But why would he want that? Unless…unless…
There’s just no way. Not after thirty-two years of no one believing me. After humiliation and loneliness and desperation and?—
The piece of paper Hot Yoga Grandma gave me feels like it’s burning a hole straight through my purse. It can’t be a coincidence, can it? Her seeing that symbol…the monster dying…the rising tide of blood…meeting Donovan…and now this. What if the universe is trying to tell me something?
“If you knew I was trying to save your life,” I say, stomping toward him, “then why the heck would you drag me off to jail? And also, how did you know?”
He holds up a single finger. “Number one, you didn’t say why you tackled me until after I’d already cuffed you, at which point I had no choice but to follow through. Optics, remember? And number two, you said so.”
“I…said so?” My voice cracks. “And you believed me?”
“I’m getting tired of repeating myself,” Cooper says. “Can you ask Data here to leave? We need to talk.”
“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of Donovan,” I tell him. God, this looks so bad. I want—no, I need— to hear what he has to say. If he actually believed me, then it’s a freaking Christmas miracle, smack in the middle of September. But the absolute worst person for me to have this kind of inexplicable connection with is the man who betrayed Donovan and made him doubt himself. Who’s still making him doubt himself today. Because by extension, then Donovan will doubt me too. And even though I know we can’t be together, that following through on the white-hot attraction and undeniable lure I feel for him can’t lead anywhere but to his doom, it breaks my heart for him to think last night was nothing but a dirty trick.
“Oh, I don’t think he should stay, do you?” Cooper runs a finger along the smooth wood of one of the gazebo’s supports. “I think it would just confuse him. And you’ve done quite enough of that, Rune Whitlock.”
What the hell is going on here? “Who are you?” I hiss at him. “What do you want from me?”
“I’m a small-town cop who’s just come upon a recently released criminal in a gazebo with his brother, having a highly suspect conversation. Who just heard said criminal threaten his brother’s life, if I’m not mistaken. Do you want to continue this little chat down at the station? Because there’s not a helluva lot going on at this fair of yours, and I don’t think my services will be missed.” His voice is mild, but there’s no mistaking its ominous undertones.
I fold my arms across my chest and stare him down. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” he says, staring right back.
Donovan looks from me to Cooper and then back again. “How do you two actually know each other?” he says. “Because I don’t believe for a second that you met for the first time when you”—he points an accusatory finger at me—“tackled him”—the finger stabs in Cooper’s direction—“into the street. Whatever elaborate scheme you have in mind to humiliate me, great, you succeeded. You might as well come clean and give it up now.”
Cooper and I speak at the same time, which doesn’t really help our cause.
“Jesus. You’re still fixated on some stupid shit that happened years ago. This has nothing to do with that, dumbass,” Cooper says, just as I blurt, “Donovan, I swear this isn’t what it looks like. I’d never seen or heard of him before that morning. I don’t know what he wants, but there’s no elaborate scheme. No scheme of any kind. The last thing I want is to humiliate you. I’m trying to protect you!”
“Well, you’re doing a shitty job of it.” He huffs, a jagged puff of air. “You know what? The two of you deserve each other. Talk all you want. I’m out of here.”
Oh, no. “Please don’t leave,” I say, catching at his shirtsleeve. “Not like this.”
But he won’t look at me. “I don’t know why you give a crap, Rune. You didn’t want to date me anyway. So, now you have what you want. You could’ve just been honest. You didn’t have to make up this elaborate ruse about being a fucking prophet, or whatever. But if Cooper’s the kind of person you want to hang out with”—he rips free of my grip and shoves past his brother, knocking Officer Asshat momentarily off balance—“honesty isn’t a concept that means jack to you.”
My heart feels like it’s shattering into tiny, jagged bits. “Donovan, wait. Please!” I call after him, but it’s too late. He’s already storming away.
Fury surges through me as I turn to Cooper. He’s standing at the foot of the gazebo, hands still in his pockets, looking smug as a cat who’s raided the refrigerator for the last cupful of catnip-infused creamer. “All right, Officer Asshat,” I tell him. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”