Chapter 9 #2
“No.” I shook my head. “He keeps me out of it.”
“And you should stay out of it.” Dash pointed at me with his beer bottle. “Jim’s a good lawyer. He knows what he’s doing and we can’t have anyone mess it up.”
My mouth fell open. “Are you insinuating that I’d purposefully interfere with Draven’s trial?”
“Don’t know.” He sipped his beer. “He was the reason your mother was killed. Maybe this is your vengeance.”
“No.” I gritted my teeth. “I want the real killer to pay.”
That was why I was here. The only things keeping me in Clifton Forge were my promise to Isaiah and my desire to find Mom’s killer. Dash might be my relative, but he could go fuck himself. And when I did leave someday, he’d never hear from his sister again.
“Dash,” Bryce hissed. “Knock. It. Off.”
“Gotta ask the question, babe. We don’t know anything about her and she’s in a position of influence.”
“You’re being a dick,” Bryce fired back.
“It’s fine.” I stood straighter, taller, shrugging out of Isaiah’s hold. Dash needed to see I could stand on my own. “My mother was murdered. We have that in common. Would you have been satisfied if the person who murdered her got away with it?”
“No.”
“Then we have that in common too.”
He almost looked angrier, knowing that we shared some similarities. My heart raced as I waited for his reaction. Those stone-cold eyes didn’t waver. Then he shifted his attention to his wife, his anger vanishing in a blink. “Sorry.”
It was an apology to Bryce, not to me. Still, I tasted victory.
“I’ll go start the grill.” Dash kissed Bryce’s forehead, then nodded for Isaiah to follow.
When they were out of earshot, I blew out a long breath. “Wow.”
“Grr.” Bryce closed her eyes, bracing her arms on the island. “I’m so sorry, Genevieve. If you want to leave, I would totally understand.”
“But then he’d win.” And I was not letting Dash win.
“I told him to relax tonight, to stop acting like this. It’s not . . . he’s not this guy. But did he listen? No. And trust me, when you do leave later, he’s going to get one hell of an ass chewing.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
I waved it off. “I can stand my ground.”
“Yes, you can. He’ll push hard to see how hard he can push. Don’t let him win.”
“Trust me, I won’t.” I was treading carefully around Dash. He wasn’t just my brother; he was Isaiah’s boss and our landlord. I’d let him get away with the glares and the underhanded comments. But like tonight, when he crossed a line, I was no longer staying quiet.
“Can I change the subject?” I asked. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Of course.” She stepped closer.
I took a fortifying breath. “When you came to Colorado, you said you were writing a memorial for Mom. Was it a ruse? Or did you mean it?”
The color drained from her face. “That wasn’t a ruse. I know reporters who would use it as an excuse for information, but I wouldn’t have lied about that.”
“Okay.” I relaxed. “Have you written it yet?”
“Most of it. I was waiting to publish it, hoping we’d be able to prove Draven innocent first. Then I was going to ask you to read it. But we don’t have to wait. I can run it whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m not,” I confessed. “Not yet.”
“Then it’ll be there if and when you are.” She gave me a sad smile. “How about a tour?”
“Absolutely.” I sighed, hoping the awkward moments for this night were over.
We spent the next thirty minutes wandering through the house. I envied their space. I envied their doors. I envied that her living room didn’t also double as the bedroom.
Bryce and Dash’s basement was bigger than Isaiah’s apartment. He and I were living on top of one another, something most newlyweds would likely enjoy. For us, it amplified an already complicated situation.
“Will you find out if you’re having a boy or girl?” I asked as we stood in their home office. They would be converting it to a nursery and moving the office downstairs.
“We’re not sure yet. Dash wants it to be a surprise, but I like to plan. We’re battling it out at the moment.”
“I like the idea of a surprise.” I ran my hand over a soft, cream baby blanket she’d folded on the desk.
“I’m trying not to be nosy, but my curiosity is a beast of its own. Will you guys have kids someday?”
I should have anticipated Bryce’s question. I’d always heard that once you were married, people immediately began asking if kids were next. “Um . . . maybe.”
Telling Bryce no would only lead to more questions. I couldn’t exactly tell her that Isaiah and I didn’t and wouldn’t be having sex. Maybe was a safe deflection. Another half-truth.
Bryce led me from the office across the hall to the primary bedroom. I refused to look into the walk-in closet for fear I’d die of envy. I should have avoided their bathroom too.
“I’m so jealous of your double sinks. And a shower where you actually have room to bend over and shave your legs.”
She scrunched up her nose. “How’s it going at the apartment? I’ve never been up there.”
And I—awful friend that I was—hadn’t invited her in. I’d correct that mistake soon. “It’s crowded and small. Next time we’re both at the garage, come up and I’ll give you the tour. It takes twenty-three seconds if we do the long version.”
“How long do you think you’ll stay there?” she asked as we walked away from the bathroom.
“I don’t know.” My resolve broke and I glanced into her closet. “Ugh. Your closet is a dream. I wish I could fit all my clothes in one spot.”
“You guys could move. Rent something bigger.”
That would require Isaiah and me to talk about the future. We’d been so busy adjusting to this new life that neither of us brought up anything past the upcoming week. Maybe because we were both still hoping this would end, sooner rather than later.
“My condo in Denver sold,” I told Bryce as we returned to the kitchen. “I’m closing on it next week so that gives us more options.”
At the moment, I didn’t have any desire to buy property in Clifton Forge. A purchase was too permanent. But I might change my tune after another few months in the apartment.
“Options for what?” Dash asked as the guys rejoined us inside.
“A bigger place,” Bryce answered for me. “With a decent closet and bathroom.”
“But we’re not in a hurry,” I rushed to add. I didn’t want Isaiah to think I was miserable. Maybe I had been at first, but the misery had faded. Day by day, it was getting easier.
“Yeah.” Isaiah nodded. “We’re good in the apartment for now. Though I wouldn’t mind making some updates, if that’s okay with you.”
“Fine by me,” Dash said. “What are we talking about here?”
“There’s about two feet of dead space beside the closet. I was thinking of framing out some shelves. It would give us more storage space. And the whole place could use some paint.”
My heart swelled. Isaiah didn’t care about storage space or paint. But I did. He’d change what he could about the apartment for me.
Dinner turned out to be tolerable, despite the rocky start. Dash didn’t talk to me, but the rudeness was gone. Maybe Bryce had been right. If I stood my ground, he might not like it, but he’d respect it.
Maybe the attitude had been a test to see if I’d leave.
We spent the meal talking about Clifton Forge, its stores and popular restaurants. Bryce hadn’t lived here for long, she’d only moved earlier in the year, but with her job at the paper, she’d done a better job getting out to explore.
Isaiah and I shared a look when we were each halfway through our steaks. By staying hidden in the apartment, we were missing out.
“Who wants a cookie?” Bryce asked, scanning the table of empty plates.
“Me. I only ate two earlier.” Isaiah stood, taking his plate to the kitchen. Normally, he ate five.
“I’ll get them.” Bryce followed, leaving Dash and me alone.
I glanced up from my plate, finding his stare waiting. I dismissed it, looking past his shoulder and into the living room beyond us. There were photos framed on the fireplace mantel, and I abandoned my seat and wandered over.
The largest photo was of Bryce and Dash from the wedding.
They were smashing cake into each other’s faces.
The next photo was of Bryce’s parents. The one after that was a photo of Dash and Nick standing beside two motorcycles with their arms around each other’s backs.
Nick had a beard; otherwise he and Dash looked alike.
They both resembled Draven, and we all had his dark brown hair.
I’d met Nick at the wedding. I’d been prepared for another angry, resentful brother, but Nick had been a pleasant surprise.
He’d been kind as he’d introduced himself, shaking my hand.
His wife, Emmeline, had hugged me without hesitation and introduced me to their two adorable children as Aunt Genevieve.
Nick hadn’t spent much time with me since he’d been Dash’s best man, but he’d escorted me down the aisle, and as the two of us stood for Bryce and Dash, he’d given me a genuine smile or wink whenever I met his gaze.
Being tied to the Slater family wasn’t all bad.
When I came to the next picture, I froze. It was an older photo, the colors muted and the print quality dull. I’d never seen this woman’s face before but she was no stranger.
It was Chrissy Slater.
She was beautiful and her smile lit up her eyes.
Goddamn it. How could you, Mom?
Loving Draven wasn’t an excuse to betray her friend, not like this. Was that the reason Mom hadn’t dated anyone in Denver? I couldn’t remember a time when I’d stayed home with a babysitter so Mom could go out with a man. Had she loved Draven all this time?
I feared the answer was yes, and that love was the reason she was dead.
Chrissy had loved Draven too. She’d also paid with her life.
“You hate me for her,” I whispered, sensing Dash behind me.
“Yes.”
“Fair enough.” I was the living, breathing reminder of our father’s adultery. I turned away from the photo. “I’m not my mother, but I loved her. I don’t agree with what she did, but she was my mom. Maybe one day you’ll see that I’m a victim here too.”
Dash said nothing. His eyes stayed on the photo of his mother as I slipped past him, joining Isaiah and Bryce in the kitchen. They were both chewing a cookie.
They each ate two more as I ate one.
Dash refused.
Did he know Mom had called them Chrissy’s cookies? His mother had given my mother the recipe.
And now it was mine.
Dash’s sullen mood clouded the air, so Isaiah and I thanked them for a lovely evening and slipped into the dark night, each driving our vehicles home.
“We survived,” I breathed, tossing my keys onto the kitchen counter in the apartment.
“Yeah.” Isaiah unzipped his jacket. His cheeks were red from riding in the cool night air.
“Am I a bad driver or something?” I blurted.
“Huh?”
“Am I a bad driver? I’ve never been in an accident or gotten a speeding ticket. But you won’t ride with me. Do you think I’m a bad driver?”
“Oh.” He toed off his boots. “No, you’re not a bad driver.”
“Then what is it?”
Silence.
“Isaiah?”
Silence again. He set his boots beside the door and padded to the bathroom.
I stared blankly at the door as he closed himself inside. The water turned on. The toilet flushed. And I waited, wondering what the actual fuck had just happened.
Isaiah came out of the bathroom in only his boxers. I gulped at the sight of his washboard abs, then walked to my dresser to get my own pajamas.
“Do you want to watch something?” He picked up the remote for the TV.
“Not really.”
He turned it on anyway.
I went to the bathroom and got ready for bed. When I emerged, he’d already shut off the lights and made up the couch. I slid quietly into the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Hello, tension. The television’s volume was low, but it couldn’t chase away my unanswered question. I didn’t dare ask again. I’d only get more silence.
The light from the screen bounced off the walls. A car raced down the street outside.
“Sorry,” Isaiah whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.
“It’s fine,” I muttered. “Like I said before dinner, we don’t know each other.”
“No, we don’t.”
And with those words, I knew that wasn’t going to change.