Counting scoops of leaves for the infuser, I stop. “Of course. I don’t see a guy get killed every day.”
Rhys looks at me like I’m insane. Which I’m not. I was diagnosed with ADHD in high school, and a doctor put me on all this medication that caused depression and blackouts.
“Fallon?” Rhys gently shakes me, spilling the tea.
‘Blasphemy!’Basil says.‘Have some respect. Those leaves come from our family!’
I look Basil’s way and run a finger across my neck.Cut it.
“Shite, I’m sorry. Let me make your tea.”
“I got it.” I clean up the spill and then start over with fresh leaves. “You were saying?”
“Let’s talk.” He steers me to the sofa, and after sitting me down, he paces.
“You seem very nervous,” I tell him. “If you don’t want tea, I have?—”
“Fallon!” Rhys snaps. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw last night.”
I reach for Basil and hold him against my chest.
‘What happened last night?’the nosey little guy asks.
I clear my throat and give one his leaves a tough squeeze.
‘Ouch!’
“If you do, it won’t just hurt me,” Rhys continues like I have to be convinced. But I let him talk because I love his accent. “It’ll hurt my family.” His jaw ticks. “The man who broke into my flat tried to hurt me. He would have hurt you. Like…really hurt you, Fal. He might have even kidnapped you.”
“Kidnapped me?”
“The man is part of a gang.” He stares down at me.
Like Kosta.
That name and the bad things he does punch something cold and sharp through my chest.
“Do they hurt women?” I ask.
“Probably.”
I shudder at the thought of Kosta and those faceless men he goes everywhere with, hurting women. I wonder if he’s in the same gang. My mind drifts off, but Rhys’s urgent voice brings me back.
“Fallon, do you promise to keep what happened our secret?”
“Secret?” I say, my voice pitched.
‘Couples keep each other’s secrets. It’s romantic,’Ivy swoons.
I stay silent, getting my thoughts under control. I need to be strong. But last night and the horrible things I saw burn in my mind. I stroke my cheek three times to swipe away the memory.
Rhys watches me for a long moment. When I don’t speak, his shoulders slump.
“Okay,” he says, voice suddenly colder. “What do you want?”
I blink, once, twice, three times. “Want?”
“For your silence.”
