Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
WINDER
My brother had always been the golden child.
I was more of the black sheep. Even our looks defined us as such.
I took after my absent father, with his dark hair and quiet mannerisms. My brother borrowed his cheerful nature and blond ringlets from our mother.
The only things we shared were our blue eyes, but even those seemed different in our faces.
I was five when my brother was born. I remembered my parents bringing him home from the hospital. I begged for them to take him back. He looked so much like my mom and my step-dad even then. I think somewhere deep inside my five-year-old mind, I knew I had been replaced.
The comparisons didn’t stop there, either. People would stop my mother in the grocery store, calling my brother an angel. Cherubic. And he was. He really was. I’d hide behind her while he smiled, a small shadow behind his bright light.
I’d sneak into his bedroom at night, staring down at him sleeping so peacefully, wondering what they saw in him that I didn’t have. I couldn’t figure out what integral part I was missing.
As we grew, our chubby cheeks and bodies turned into chipped smiles and gangly limbs. The missing component became obvious. Rather, it wasn’t what I didn’t have, but what I did have—my father’s blood pumping through my veins.
I heard my mother cursing him out on the phone, about the nonexistent child support. The way he would promise to take me for a weekend, and would never show. She resented him, and by proxy, she resented me.
After all, I was fifty percent him. Fifty percent toxic blood filling my body. Fifty percent useless deadbeat building up my soul.
Eventually, I leaned into it. I found my place with people who appreciated the broken parts of me. People who didn’t shy away from the darkness that built my bones, or the shadows that dragged behind me. They had their own chains, and so they had no reason to judge mine.
It surprised everyone in the room except me when I took the fall for the bust. My loyalty might have been misplaced, but at the time, it felt like I was helping the only people who saw me for who I really was.
That was the funny thing about Blaire. I wasn’t sure she could remember anything about me, and she didn’t seem scared about anything she was learning.
And if she could remember, she was a damn good liar.
I had considered the possibility she was lying.
It was one of the first things that popped into my mind.
But the way she looked at me didn’t seem like she was lying.
Eventually, I would have to tell her the truth. I knew that. I also knew the truth might be the thing to break her completely, and I didn’t want to be the one responsible for that. I already had enough blood on my hands; I didn’t need her shattered heart as well.
A selfish part of me didn’t want to deal with the fallout. Because as soon as she heard the whole story, she would leave, and the idea of that hurt too much for me to process.
I’d kind of gotten used to her being around, even if it meant I had to give up my bed. If I was being completely honest with myself, I’d give up a lot more than that for her.
Blaire Fucking Barlowe.
How? How was she back in my life again? None of it made any sense. I thought being so close to her again would be a dream come true, and instead it just amplified the pain I had carefully tucked away, breaking open scars I had neatly sewn up.
I wasn’t sure if this time I’d be able to put myself back together when she left.
I knew she questioned how I knew where her work was.
She was just too preoccupied to ask right now.
Since I first noticed her at the parties, I kept a close eye on her—whether I wanted to admit it or not.
It wasn’t stalking. I had no nefarious intentions.
I just knew she was running a risk by simply existing, before I even knew about her midnight exploits.
Blaire leaving was a problem for a different day, because right now she needed help, and I wasn’t going to turn her away. I was probably the only person who could truly help her.
Unfortunately, the help she needed was a little…
messy. High pitched begging in front of me brought me back to reality, and I blinked myself awake until the scene came into focus in front of me.
A tiny, messy house. Broken furniture everywhere.
Walls stained in the dim light. A wide-eyed man in my grip in front of me.
Like an old friend, the anger rolled in, reminding me what I was here for. I’d come looking for answers, and they weren’t giving me any.
Holding him by the neck, I smashed the small man against the wall. “I need a name. You said you’ve seen a girl hanging around, asking things she shouldn’t. Tell me her fucking name!” I roared. I needed to know if it was her, or someone else. I needed to know if he knew her name.
The addict spluttered against my hand, trying to get words out. I relaxed my grip slightly, and he slid down the wall an inch or two. “It started with a B…I don’t know for sure!”
“Come on now, you can do better than that.” I went to grip his throat again, and he squirmed, attempting to resist me.
“B! That’s the only thing I can remember, I swear! Come on, man, I’m high as shit!” he squawked.
“Yeah, you are, and that makes you fucking worthless to me. You think I pay you to be my eyes and ears for you to come back to me with nothing? I know she’s been attending this shit. I know that. I need to know who’s been talking about the girl that doesn’t seem to belong.”
“Blaire!” A voice shouted behind me.
My blood went cold. I knew she had to have been messing with shit she had no business in anymore, but to hear her name out loud…fuck. Dropping the tweaker with a quiet thud, I turned to the voice. “Say her name again.”
The man’s voice came from the ratty sofa. “Blaire. Blaire is her name. She’s been asking questions she shouldn’t. I heard Leon talking about her last week, but I don’t know if he actually knew what he was talking about, or if he was just trying to big himself up. You should talk to him.”
Fucking Leon. He always felt the need to stick his nose into everything.
I whipped my head around to glare at the useless man on the floor. “This. This is what I pay you for. Information I can’t get myself. Next time you can only give me a letter, you’ll find someone else to get your fix from. Got it?”
He nodded, holding his throat. Even though he didn’t deserve it, I tossed the bag of pills at his feet, and slammed the door behind me.
Leon. What the fuck was Leon doing mixed up in all this?
All I knew for certain was Blaire was tangled up in a web she didn’t know the half of.
Every time I unraveled one knot, two more appeared in its place.
My only saving grace right now was that Leon owed me a favor.
I had to hope it would be enough to get some information out of him without rocking the boat too much.
I couldn’t remember how long I’d been gone for.
It couldn’t have been more than a few hours, but when I’d left it’d been late afternoon.
It was dark now. I’d left Blaire in my room, which I wasn’t super comfortable with, but my options were limited.
Still, I wasn’t about to leave her for any longer than I had to.
She’d slept most of the day, and I hadn’t wanted to disturb her.
I pushed past the guys on the porch who never seemed to leave. It was always a rotation of people, different groups, with a few regulars. I liked it that way. It was easier like that. The front door was unlocked, but the living room was empty.
I frowned and looked over my shoulder, addressing one of the regular men on the porch outside, “Hey, Pat. Where is everyone?”
Pat shrugged, leaning back on the stair he sat on, half in the bag already. “They said there was some kind of rager happening at Leon’s place, so everyone headed over, I think. Or maybe that was yesterday. Huh.”
Well, wasn’t that convenient?
My bedroom door stood open. Fuck. If there had been a mass exodus of bodies, it would’ve been easy for Blaire to sneak out with them.
“Pat. Did you see a woman with red hair leave here? She was probably wearing black sweats.” My heart needed to settle down. I was likely overthinking the entire situation.
Pat smirked. “You mean that pretty thing you had over the other day? Hard to forget a face like that. Does the carpet match the drapes, though?”
I stomped back outside to where Pat sat on the porch, grabbing a handful of his shirt and hauling him to his knees. “Think very, very carefully about your next words. I like you. But you will not disrespect her like that. Am I clear?”
He nodded, a small squeak leaving his mouth.
I put him back down on the stairs. “Glad we understand each other. Now, did you see her?”
“No. No one like her left.” He rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was your woman.”
“She’s—” I paused. She wasn’t mine. She never was, and never would be. But for all intents and purposes, it would be easier if she was. And I liked the way the word sparked something in my chest. Mine. “Don’t worry about it.”
I slammed the door shut behind me. She hadn’t left. Which meant she was in the house somewhere. I just hoped she was alone.
Sticking my head into my bedroom, I made sure it was empty. No sounds came from the shower, either.
The living room was eerily quiet, the destroyed sofa and smashed tv looking more like something out of an apocalypse movie now that it sat empty.
I snuck into the kitchen, a pile of dishes waiting in the sink.
One of the plates held a meal I couldn’t even begin to define.
It might’ve been cheese. Then again, it might have been a piece of cake.
I wrinkled my nose. There was nowhere to hide in the small kitchen, so Blaire must have been upstairs.