Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

EVERYTHING AND NOTHING

Omar

I throw my head back and let out a sigh of deep, if fleeting satisfaction. My fucking bladder nearly burst during dinner. But my mind gave up the ghost as soon as Jules walked into the kitchen and looked like she’d swallowed a roach.

Everything about this week makes sense now. And whatever it is that’s going on with them, Jules isn’t a willing participant. But she’d rather lie to me than tell me the truth.

I don’t even know where to begin. She’s sitting on the couch, staring at the door with a pinched expression and her hand pressed to her stomach as if it’s the source of her pain. “Are you okay?”

Her gaze drops to the floor, and she nods. “I’m sorry you found out he was here before I could tell you. But I was going to tell you.”

“When?” My response is clipped, but my tone says everything else. She closes her eyes and sighs.

“When I got back. I wanted to tell you face to face.” She looks so earnest and regretful.

I cock my head. “You told me you’d given up the flat.”

She blinks. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then why did I think it?”

“I don’t know. But you absolutely assumed it.”

“And you didn’t bother to correct me.”

“Because we’ve never talked about it. Not once.” She stabs her finger into the cushion.

I look up and think hard again. I don’t remember the conversation.

“Fine. But forgive me for not giving you the benefit of the doubt. Because you absolutely lied about Conrad.”

Her face contorts as if she’s in pain, and I hate that I put that expression there.

This tension isn’t us, but we can’t be us when this man is casting a shadow over our home. We’ve always picked our battles, but we’ve never pulled our punches, and I’m not starting now. “Who is he? Really. ”

She stiffens and pulls her head back to gaze up at me with molasses brown eyes, the flecks of amber in them glinting in the sunlight. But instead of the joy she normally looks at the world with, they’re full of worry. “He’s my foster brother.”

“You haven’t ever mentioned him once since we met.”

“I haven’t been in touch with him in years, Omar. He’s not part of my daily life—honestly, I didn’t even know if he was still alive.”

“Then why the hell is he living in your goddamn house? He’s a criminal, for God’s sake.”

Her eyes narrow. “He committed a crime. He is not a criminal. ”

“What’s the fucking difference, Jules? And from the sound of it, he’s committed a lot more than one crime. He’s made a whole career out of it.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at me. “You don’t know that.”

“Do you know different? I can’t afford to have my name attached to people like him. And neither can you.”

“People like him? I’m people like him.” She raises her voice in an uncharacteristic display of temper that makes me take a whole step back.

Her expression hardens, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the void of emotion in her eyes. “I just clean up better. And if you can’t afford to have your name attached to him, then you can’t afford to have your name attached to me.”

“What in the world are you saying?”

“I’m saying you of all people should know that no one is as bad as the worst thing they’ve ever done. And that not everything is black and white.”

“What has he got on you?”

Her face crumples, and I see the writing on the wall.

In a split second, I’ve gone from the man who conquered the mountain to hanging off the edge of it by my fingertips. I’ve got to decide whether I should climb my way back up or let go.

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