37. 37
Harlow
The elevator pings and the doors slide open. As I expected, Security is already there, grabbing my bag from the chair.
Killian is texting on the sofa but looks up.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he says to the man.
Then, he spots me behind him. I catch the slightest smile when he sees me. The sexy, crooked one I wish didn’t affect me.
I am terrified. His dad said what I already knew, but hearing about police and standoffs makes Killian that much worse.
I hate Killian.
I hate him.
My eyes close and I’m back underneath him as the moment replays. His cock, his body heat, his tongue, him. My stomach twists so hard, I almost vomit. I inhale a deep breath and keep going, one step after the other.
Clark said the notebooks came before the end last time. Before I can reconsider, my legs carry me into Killian’s bedroom.
My legs move on their own, though, making a sharp turn into his bedroom.
“What am I doing?” I say to myself.
I already hear his footsteps. I search fast, spotting the notebook on his bedside table where I last saw it. I snatch it up.
He’s behind me and reaches for it.
“What the fuck are you doing? Give it to me,” he says sharply.
I don’t. I can’t. I curl forward, opening it up and reading a page. The handwriting is bold capital letters, each one pressed hard into the paper.
HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME?
One sentence. Repeated hundreds of times.
He finally gets the book and snaps it shut. “What the fuck, Harlow?”
His expression steals my breath. It’s hurt and shock, like he’s the one who was just violated.
I blink, looking up at him, staring without words.
A phone bill. Someone dangerous. Something Clark was too frightened to explain.
Just then, I bolt out of his room and jump over the couch. I stumble but swipe up his phone from the coffee table.
The screen flicks on, its glow bright.
A lockscreen.
The phone is ripped from my hands.
“Unlock it and give it back,” I say and stamp my foot.
I don’t know what I’m doing bossing this man around. I don’t know where my fear fled to, but something in the depths of my mind tells me I need to know what his dad knows. Maybe to survive whatever comes after we finally part ways.
His chest heaves up and down. He isn’t the force he was earlier. He’s completely caught off-guard.
“Why are you doing this? What did my dad say to you?”
“There’s something important on that phone,” I answer, unable to hold back a rogue sob. “Show me, Killian.”
“No.”
He says it soft and remorseful, like he doesn’t want to deny me something, but has to.
“It’s drugs, isn’t it? You’re hanging out with bad people again.”
“Harlow—”
I shouldn’t say. Addicts freak. But I have to:
“I know you’re using. I can tell.”
“I’m not!” he booms.
I shake my head. “That’s why you wrote in that book like a crazy person! You were high, weren’t you? Those pages looked like the mind of a coked-out junkie.”
He lifts his lip in contempt, brooding.
You know what? I don’t need confirmation that he’s turning into the worst version of himself. I saw it. After what he did, I’m such a damn fool for hoping an addict isn’t lying to me.
I need to go.
Now.
He blocks me. The security guard steps close.
I shrug, feeling less scared with their presence. “Show me your phone, Killian.”
He searches for an excuse, and in that moment, he has never looked more like Evan — a drug user in his rawest form.
I shake my head and move around him.
He takes me in his arms. No, he locks me in them.
“Release her, Mr. Easton.” The officer draws his taser.
“It’s okay,” I say automatically.
He doesn’t lower it.
I keep my arms pinned to my sides, stiff as a board, trying desperately not to fall into a memory of the place I once yearned to be since he ran out of my trailer long ago.
“Don’t leave me, baby,” he says.
That one word guts me.
Baby.
He’s manipulating you, Harlow. Stay strong.
I say nothing.
Perhaps sensing I’m not softening, he releases me and steps back. He swallows, his throat bobbing.
“You promise you won’t leave if I tell you stuff?”
I nod, knowing it’s a lie. But with confirmation he’s into the drug life again, it’ll make it easier for me. I deserve that assurance more than a dishonest man deserves honesty.
He hands me the phone unlocked to a chat thread. The top says, “Asher.”
I thumb through the messages, scrolling up and up and up.
Killian: I’m telling her tonight
Killian: I almost told her
Killian: Tonight is the night
Killian: She didnt seem in the right mood
Killian: I think she’s seeing someone else
Killian: What should I do?
Killian: She’s so goddamn gorgeous.
Killian: I know I should tell her
Killian: Thanks for no fucking advice asshat
Outgoing call.
Killian: Please pick up
Outgoing call.
Outgoing call.
Killian: IF YOU WOULD JUST PICK UP THE PHONE
They’re unending.
And one-sided.
Asher never responds.
“What is this, Killian?”
Silence.
I keep scrolling. Finally, way at the top, messages from Asher.
Asher: lol meet me at brax’s
Asher: party tonight
Killian: right on
Asher: bring some cash so we can get loud
Killian: I will
Asher: Good cuz dad froze my trust payments
Killian: ya mom said she would talk to him
Asher: lol shes awesome
The last message from Asher.
I look at the date.
Five years ago.
“So Asher... he’s your brother,” I whisper.
“Mm-hm. We’re identical twins.” Killian stares at me, jaw set tight.
“I didn’t know you had a twin. Why didn’t you tell me? Why doesn’t he respond?”
“He does sometimes.”
My stomach drops because I remember the way Killian talked about Asher — his best friend. Like Asher was still here. Like Asher still answered.
“Come on, Killian. He doesn’t reply anymore.”
He grabs the phone, sudden and fiercely. Something empties behind his eyes. The anger disappears so completely that it frightens me more than the shouting did.
I stare at the carpet, unsure how to ask something so difficult.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, he speaks first.
“Don’t.” His tone is a warning.
I sigh heavily and ask anyway.
“Did your brother die?”
Killian doesn’t speak. I can feel the question slice through him. I know it. I went too far.
Slowly, I look up.
Killian’s left, the door to the stairwell shutting softly behind him.
“East stairwell,” the security guard says into his radio. “Mr. Easton is coming down.”
I rush after Killian, but stop myself.
Instead, my knees hinge and I fold onto the floor, sobbing into my hands.
Because I feel sorry for the monster who just hurt me in the worst way.
I want to go save him when I’m the one he left in pieces.