Chapter 3 #3
I’m sorry, princess. Christ, I’m so fucking sorry.
“Yeah, he did,” I agree.
We lapse into silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts.
She watches me in the windows. I watch her from the corner of my eye.
Neither of us speaks as I finish putting her sandwich together.
We just watch one another, both pretending we aren’t.
Both pretending the silence between us isn’t charged.
Both pretending we can handle this thing between us like adults out of respect for Brant’s memory.
I think we both know we’re lying to ourselves.
It’s only a matter of time before one of us cracks and crumbles.
We aren’t two ships passing in the night. We’re the RMS Emerald and the SS Storstad on a collision course in the fog. We’re the Titanic headed for certain disaster as we drift off course.
One way or another, she’ll escape unscathed. Even if I have to bleed to make it happen.
“What did you want to talk about?” she asks suddenly.
“You.”
“Me?” Another tiny frown. “What about me?”
“About you staying here.”
“Oh.”
“I have rules.”
“Keep myself covered,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“No,” I growl, dumping chips onto her plate before starting on my own sandwich. “That’s not a rule, Raven. That’s me trying to do the right thing. Brant would have ripped my balls off if he knew the things I’ve thought about doing to you.”
She watches me silently for a moment, thinking about something.
I know the moment she gathers the nerve to say it.
I see it in her eyes. I watch determination cross her face and lift her chin.
I see it subtly change the air around her.
She changes from shy little lamb to confident woman, exactly like she does when she steps onto the stage.
“I’ve thought about things too, Rhys,” she says, her voice soft. “More than I should. For longer than I should have.”
“Jesus.” I narrowly avoid slicing my finger open instead of the tomato.
“The first time I saw you, I was attracted to you. But you were his best friend. I know that makes you untouchable. I know that makes the things I want wrong.” She glances away. “It doesn’t make me want them any less.”
“There is nothing wrong with you,” I rasp, heat in my voice. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“If you say so,” she says doubtfully.
My stomach churns, my guts twisting at the realization that she thinks she’s bad for wanting me. It’s one thing for me to feel that way, but for her to feel it? Unacceptable. There is nothing bad or wrong or less than perfect about her. Not a damn thing.
“What are your rules?” she asks before I can tell her that.
I hesitate, unsure if I should drag us back to the other conversation.
And then I reluctantly decide to let it go for now.
Nothing good will come of talking about the way we both feel.
It won’t change anything. She’s still Brant’s kid.
I’m still unworthy of her. That won’t change.
It can’t, not when she doesn’t know the truth.
“Rule number one, you’re here for summer vacation,” I say.
“That means you spend your summer enjoying yourself as much as possible. You aren’t my maid.
You aren’t responsible for me. You don’t have to earn your keep to stay here.
You stay for as long as you want, and you spend the time doing what you want. ”
“What if I want to cook or clean?”
“One day a week.”
“Three.”
“Two, final offer.”
“Agreed.”
“Rule number two, you don’t go out on the rocks or on the water alone. The island is beautiful, but it’s dangerous. Don’t underestimate it,” I order. “Too many people get cocky and get in over their heads. If you get yourself hurt, I’m going to be pissed.”
“I think I can agree to that,” she says.
“Rule number three, no investigating your dad’s death.”
“No way.”
“Raven, you don’t even know what you’re looking at or what you’re looking for,” I say. “You don’t know the first thing about criminal investigations. The best you can hope for is that you don’t fuck up Seattle’s case or end up in a jail cell or a victim yourself.”
“I have a right to ask questions.” She shoots me a mulish, mutinous look.
“And what happens if you ask the right questions to the wrong people?” I press. “What happens if you end up with the wrong attention on you? What do you do then?”
“I…” She trails off, her eyes narrowing as they crawl slowly across my face, carefully scrutinizing my expression. “You know something, don’t you?”
I grit my teeth, refusing to answer.
“You do!” she cries. “You know something about what happened to him, don’t you?”
“Raven.”
“Are you looking into it? Do you have a suspect?” she asks. “Do you think they might come after me? Is that why you don’t want me looking into it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why don’t you want me looking into it?”
“Because there are some things you can’t unknow, princess,” I say, dropping the top piece of bread onto my sandwich.
I carry our plates across the kitchen, setting her plate in front of her.
“There are some things that stay with you forever. When you look into a crime, the first thing you dig into is the victim. You cut into the heart of him and reveal all his secrets…the good, the bad, and the ugly. What you find alters your perception of the victim forever.”
“You think he had secrets.”
“Everyone has secrets, songbird.”
She swallows audibly, her expression troubled. She knows I’m right. Look at the two of us. We’ve been carrying our own secrets for the last three years, haven’t we? Desperately trying to hide them from the very man we now mourn.
“You know his secrets, don’t you?” she asks, watching my face intently.
I nod once, not lying to her.
“Are they…bad?”
“They aren’t good,” I admit.
Her face falls.
“Did…did they get him killed?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I say. It’s the truth.
I know enough to answer some of her questions, but not enough to answer all of them.
Did Marnie kill him because of his secrets?
Was it an accident like she claimed? Or did she have some other plan I haven’t yet unraveled?
I want to believe it was an accident, but nothing makes sense.
Why did she drag me into it? Why blackmail me into helping her cover it up?
I’m missing something and I don’t know what.
“You don’t want to tell me.”
“He’s your father, songbird. I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?” she asks, desperation in her voice. “I don’t understand, Rhys.”
“I know you don’t,” I sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
It’s silky soft. “I need you to trust me, Raven. I know I’m asking for a lot right now, but trust that everything I’ve done and everything I’m doing is to protect you, your baby brother or sister, and Brant.
I’ll do whatever I have to do to ensure you’re safe and taken care of.
And I’ll do everything I can to ensure that whoever killed Brant pays for it. ”
“Promise me,” she demands. “Promise you’ll make them pay for it.”
“I swear to you, even if I have to destroy myself to do it, there will be justice,” I vow, meaning every word.
One way or another, Marnie will suffer the consequences for everything she’s done.
I don’t care what it takes. As soon as she has that baby and I find a way to ensure Raven doesn’t lose everything, she’s done.
Raven scrutinizes my expression, searching out any little hint that I’m just telling her what she wants to hear to get her to give me what I want. When she doesn’t find it, she expels a slow breath. “Okay,” she reluctantly agrees. “I’ll let you handle it.”