24. Broken Things
Chapter twenty-four
Broken Things
Nicolette
I kept sneaking glances at Julian as he drove us home after work.
He was unusually quiet, and something felt off.
He kept gripping the steering wheel, stretching his neck from side to side.
And normally he would have held my hand.
He hadn’t even opened my door for me or kissed me when we got in the car.
Weird that I missed those little gestures.
Just weeks ago, I would’ve glowered at him for those very same things.
But something had changed between us. He was becoming the man I’d thought I had met at the café.
The man who bought me flowers from street vendors as we walked to get ice cream.
The man who brushed my hair. The man I thought I could fall in love with.
Finally, when we came to a red light in town, I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Is everything all right?”
He glanced over at me, the corners of his lips ticking up—but no smile. “It was a long day.”
“Do you want to talk about it? I don’t know a lot about the business side, but maybe I could be a sounding board.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “It’s not work related.”
“Oh. What is it?”
A sinking feeling hit me. I’d seen the way Cyrus had sneered at me from Julian’s office window while I ate lunch with Simone.
That look had been pure disdain—even more than usual.
I’d wondered if he’d said something about me.
I knew he was still none too happy about Julian’s and my escapade at the lab.
More so that Julian had given me his blood. But was it really all that awful?
“It’s nothing,” he said. Even though it was painfully obvious that something was bothering him. “How was your lunch with Simone?” he asked before I could call him out.
I narrowed my eyes but answered anyway. I’d circle back in a moment.
“It was nice. She’s very chatty. She wanted to know how we met, and she told me all about this guy she was dating before she moved here from France.
Apparently, she was really into him. Still is, by the way she talks about him.
But she said love is such a relative term when you live forever. Do you agree with her?”
Julian glanced sharply over at me, apparently shaken from some absentminded musing. “Can you repeat that?”
“Okay, you’re obviously not listening to me. What’s wrong? Did Cyrus say something?” I figured I might as well ask and just get it out in the open.
His jaw flexed—just once. Enough to tell me I was right.
“What did he say?”
He exhaled through his nose, a controlled, measured sound that meant he was choosing his words with surgical precision. “Cyrus talked to Dr. Sorenson.”
“He did? I didn’t realize you told Cyrus about him.” And honestly, I wasn’t sure I liked it.
“Cyrus has a lot of connections, and I trust him to be discreet. And he can also be persuasive.”
I bet he could. It was in a vampire’s nature.
“Makes sense,” I said, though the way my stomach dropped screamed, Danger—beware! I felt a little hurt that Julian had shared what I had just assumed we would keep between us. “And what did Dr. Sorenson say?”
Julian sped up—even though it was rush hour in Savannah, which meant there was barely room to breathe, let alone accelerate through the narrow streets.
“Delia paid him well to say he did the autopsy when it was indeed her,” Julian seethed.
“Did he say why? What was her reasoning?”
“He said he didn’t know,” Julian snapped—quick and clipped.
While this wasn’t great news, I didn’t understand why Julian was so agitated. We’d already surmised Delia had done the autopsy. So why did it feel like the ground was shifting under us?
“That’s unfortunate. We’ll have to keep digging. Maybe we’ll find something on my mom’s laptop—if we ever figure out how to get into her files.”
Julian glanced over at me, his brow creased. “Or it will lead us to more secrets. More mysteries. Just like the mystery of why Delia lied about graduating from Whitman.”
Well, that was news to me. And not the good kind. I guess Cyrus had done more digging. “That’s definitely disconcerting. But I really hope there are some answers on my mom’s laptop. But what’s this really about?” I asked, confused. “I feel like you’re upset with me. Like it’s my fault somehow.”
He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, taking way too long to answer.
“Are you upset with me?” I choked out.
“No,” he groaned. “It’s just—Cyrus said some things. It’s made me think.”
“Think about what?” I spat, suddenly feeling like I was on trial.
“That there are a lot of secrets surrounding you. From Delia. From your mother. The notes you’ve received that mysteriously appear out of thin air.”
I blinked, the breath stolen from me. “Did Cyrus imply that I have something to do with the notes? With Delia? With my mother?”
Julian’s silence was answer enough.
“And you believe him?”
“No,” he sighed.
“That sounds a lot like a yes.”
“Nicolette, please, I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s just—I’m taking your blood, and it’s changing me. I can feel it. I’m losing my edge, and I would be foolish not to question.”
It felt as if he’d slapped me. “I can’t believe you would think I have anything to do with any of this, especially those notes.
But, yeah, I see your point. I guess you’re about as foolish as I was to believe that we were doing this as a team.
That we were going to trust each other. And just for the record, you’re the one who asked me to make you human.
And you’re the one who lied to me about who you were and what your intentions were. ”
“Nicolette,” he said softer, regretful.
I shook my head, refusing to hear whatever apology he thought he could offer. “I understand your doubts. But you don’t need to worry anymore. I’ll figure all of this out on my own. I’ll keep my end of our bargain.”
“Which bargain is that?” Julian asked, sounding suddenly worried.
“The one where I give you a cure and you let me out of this marriage.” My voice stupidly hitched. I hated how badly this hurt. I hated more that I’d let myself get taken in by him. How I’d let myself start to fall for him. Again.
“Nicolette, you’re taking this all wrong. I was just voicing a concern.”
“It was more than a concern. But you don’t need to be concerned any longer.
I won’t bother you if the psycho comes calling again.
You know, maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll just finish me off and you won’t have anything to worry about.
Or better yet, why don’t you just announce to all your little vampire friends what my blood is capable of?
That should do the trick.” I swallowed hard, thinking how he might have already told his brother.
“There you go—problem solved. No more mysteries.”
Julian slammed on the brakes a block from the hotel and whipped his head toward me. A few cars honked and veered around us. One driver flipped him off, but Julian didn’t even blink.
“You think I would betray your secret? That I wish to see you dead?”
“Honestly,” my voice shook, “I don’t know. I thought you trusted me. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” That was a lie. I cared way too much.
Julian reached for my hand, but I pulled it away before he could touch me.
“Nicolette, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you. I apologize. I should have kept this to myself. This is uncharted territory for me. The last thing I wish is to see any harm come to you. Please—let us move forward. Together.”
I shook my head. “No. I think you’re right. We placed too much trust in each other. I think this experiment is over.”
“Damn it, Nicolette.” He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him. “Be reasonable. We can work through this.”
I turned toward the window, hiding the tears burning my eyes.
I wasn’t sure we could come back from this.
For him to think for even one second that I would lie about the notes—or that I somehow knew what my mother and Delia were hiding—after everything we’d been through .
. . it felt like a punch to the gut. The kind that knocks the air out of you.
Only this time, it felt like I might never breathe normally again.
“I don’t think so,” I whispered.
“Hell.” He took off, tires squealing. “This is bloody ridiculous.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.