Chapter Thirty Four #3
“And did this blackmail assassin have a name?” Addy finally joins the conversation, picking up on the detail I purposely omitted.
She leans against the opposite counter, grinning at me as if she already knows.
Her dermals stretch with the motion, catching the light as she folds her tattooed arms. Sliding my gaze to Clayton, I jut my chin out.
“Your cousin,” I answer cryptically. Clayton catches on straight away, his black eyes glinting with recognition.
The beanie hat, the sneaking around, the familiarity of our comings and goings.
It’s too much of a coincidence. The person blackmailing Peterson is the same who visited Clayton’s mom in her nursing home.
“Quite the detective, aren’t ya?” Addy clicks her tongue, her eyes alive with a challenge.
I swear she’s mocking me in plain sight, even as Harper locates the champagne and pops the cork as if this is any other friendly get together.
That’s a joke in itself. I don’t have friends or get-togethers that include downing my most expensive liquor like water.
Setting down my fork, I trap Addy in my sights and tongue my lip ring.
“You know those rom-coms when the guy asks his girl to move in, only to discover she owns one of those fugly, hairless, yappy dogs? That bitch is you.”
Harper gasps as if she’s scandalized, whilst Addy just laughs. Loud, unbothered, and entirely too comfortable in my kitchen. Almost as if she’s been here before. She pivots with a swagger, taking the champagne from Harper and swigging straight from the bottle.
“Oh yeah? What does that make Clay then?” Addy jerks her head in his direction and bobs her eyebrows teasingly. I scoff, returning to my food.
“He already knows he’s a mongrel who’s overstayed his welcome,” I snarl, hating the reminder these lowlifes are in my personal space. Harper pushes away from the island, all humor draining from her face in an instant.
“Would it kill the three of you to just get along? Haven’t we got enough to worry about?
!” The harshness of Harper's tone cuts through the room like shrapnel. Leaving with heavy footfalls, I track her movements through the house, from climbing the stairs to slamming the guest bedroom door closed, muttering under her breath the entire way. I hang my head and sigh. Blue balls for me once again. I’ll be able to use them as whiskey stones when they eventually drop off.
An impish giggle sounds across the kitchen, reminding me I’m not alone.
“What’s so funny?” I demand, glaring at Addy with enough venom to burn a lesser person.
“The irony,” she chuckles to herself. “You’ve upset Harper using an analogy about canines, and landed yourself directly in the doghouse.
” Addy bursts out laughing, taking the champagne bottle in hand as she also starts to leave.
I ball my fists and grit my teeth, repeating a mantra to myself. I don’t hit girls. I don’t hit girls.
“Yeah well….I put the anal in analogy.” I blurt before she exits, internally cringing. Staying silent would have worked much, much better. Clayton passes by, his large hand slapping across my shoulder blade.
“That was terrible, even for you.” I have the urge to break every one of his fingers, but luckily for Clayton, he puts his hands to better use and starts cleaning up. Addy’s voice rings out as she climbs the stairs after her best friend.
“Sweet dreams fuckers. I’ll make sure to spoon Harper extra tight for you both.” Her laughter echoes around the walls, sinking into my bones.
“I hate her,” I hiss through my teeth. Clayton grunts, filling the basin with water to wash the dishes.
His nonchalance pisses me off just as much.
“But I suppose you reckon it’s better to have her on your side.
Whatever helps plead your case to Harper, huh?
Winning by default is like bowing to an empty room. It doesn’t count.”
“What are you going on about?” Clayton raises a brow at me over his shoulder. Then, the realization sets in and he turns fully, wiping his hands on a dish cloth. “Oh, you think I’m using Addy to win over Harper? Good god, you really need to get your head out of your ass sometimes.”
“Well then, what’s with all the whispers and smiling?” I huff out, my jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. Clayton dares to roll his eyes at me, like I’m the stupidest person in the room.
“Playing good cop,” he tilts his head. “Since you’ve been scowling at her for every breath she takes, I’m trying a more personable approach. Getting her on our side.”
“That’s never going to work,” I snort, looking away.
“No? Then how do I know she has an alibi for every instance Harper was attacked? She wasn’t at the lab field trip, she was on the other side of the country during winter break, she’s never dabbled with drugs in her life and she had hundreds of witnesses during the fire.
” I shake my head, having lost my appetite as I push my plate in Clayton’s direction.
“But the flashmob—”
“Was meant to be some big surprise at the end of the show.” He interrupts and holds up his hand as if he’s taming a wild animal.
“The dancers were going to filter into the crowd and perform choreography Addy had created, until someone hacked her account, changed the uniform code and gave out secret missions to individuals. She’s not a part of this, Rhys. ”
I stare at him, my hands curling around the edge of the counter so tight my knuckles ache. Why is Clayton always so calm, so sure of himself? My top lip twitches as he turns away to wash my plate.
“It has to be her,” I grumble. Clayton doesn’t even face me, his chest falling heavily.
“Why? Because you don’t have any other leads?
” The arrow his words spear into my chest is excruciating.
How can he see through me when I can hardly understand myself?
Yet he’s right. If it’s not Addy, I’m back to square one and I can’t take Harper back there.
I can’t help her if I can’t protect her.
Clayton exhales before stacking the plate on the drying rack.
“You’re so busy hating everyone that you can’t tell when someone’s actually trying to help. ”
“Help?” I bark out a humorless laugh. “She’s a fucking distraction.
” Sliding off the stool, I pace in a circle, stopping myself from putting a hole through the drywall.
I don’t even know who I’m angrier at. Addy for being too damn ballsy, Harper for storming off, or Clay for being infuriatingly calm.
“She’s helping Harper to deal with all this bullshit that’s going on,” Clayton says quietly, not only referring to the stalker. He’s including us in that statement. “And you’re making it harder every time you open your mouth.”
That one hits harder than expected. My jaw locks, the pulse in my neck feeling like it’s about to burst through my skin. He’s not wrong, but I’ll be damned if I let him see it.
“You think you’re some kind of saint. You think Harper runs to you because you’re calmer, more patient, more fucking balanced?” I spit, stalking closer. Clayton wipes his hands on his jeans and meets my stare dead-on.
“No, Rhys. I think she runs to me because you scare her. She needs to feel safe.” The words cut deeper than expected, but it’s the pity in his gaze that rocks me to my core.
How dare he pity me. My throat goes dry, the kind of dry that burns and aches for a cigarette.
My fingers twitch in time with the tic in my jaw.
I want to yell, to grab him, to throw something, but all I do is stand there, breathing hard through my nose.
“You don’t know a damn thing about what she needs.” I vibrate with fury. I keep Harper safe, even if no one in this entire world wants to acknowledge it. As long as she does, that’s all that matters. Clayton pushes off the counter and steps forward until there’s barely a foot of space between us.
“Don’t I?” His voice drops low, but I can see the flicker of anger under his skin.
“You think this is about who fucks her better or who’s name she cries out first?
But it’s not. It’s about who will continue to fight for her when his reputation comes under fire and he stands to lose it all.
Who she trusts to still be there when everything else is burning to the ground. ”
Clayton shakes his head like he’s tired, and brushes past me toward the hallway. My eyes track him, my entire body rigid and ready to see this fight through to the end.
“Coming from the man who is constantly leaving her behind,” I call out, stalking after him.
I can’t let it go, despite knowing we’re going in circles.
It’s not in me to walk away from a fight.
“I’ve never left. I’ve been here the entire time, holding down the fort while she pines for you.
Do you have any idea how gut wrenching that is?
How soul destroying it is to watch her fall for someone else when she’s supposed to be mine? ”
Clayton freezes in place, his silence heavy enough to fill every corner of the room and leave no air for breathing.
“Yeah, Rhys. I do.” Continuing up the stairs until a door clicks behind him, I’m left alone with the faint trickle of water draining from the basin and my own ragged breathing.
I stare at nothing, my eyes unfocused and sunken.
I can’t even tell what the hell I’m feeling anymore.
Rage, jealousy, regret. Whatever it is, it’s corrosive.
My reflection in the window catches my eye, distorted by the streaks of light. I barely recognize the man staring back. He’s unusually guarded, not a smirk or drop of sarcasm in sight. Dragging a hand through my hair, tugging hard enough to sting, I lean on the counter until my shoulders ache.
The kitchen feels too quiet without Harper’s laughter, without her soft humming as she moves around, her gentle pretense that soothes my rotten soul. I picture her upstairs, curled in a ball, probably crying drunken tears into Addy’s arms, and my insides twist.
Deep down, I know Clayton’s right. Harper doesn’t need another storm seeping through her life. She needs a safe place to land, and I’ll never be that for her.