She’s still staring at the wall.
“I burnt the first batch. Turns out you should remain in the kitchen when you have something on the stove.”
Nothing.
“In any case, I think I did a decent job with the second batch of mac and cheese. I made it with sharp white cheddar.” I poke a fork in the noodles. “Why don’t you sit up, and I’ll feed you?”
“I’m not hungry.” Her tone is flat, like it’s been every time she’s been willing to open her mouth.
I drop the bowl and the fork on the tray. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday. I’m worried sick. Should I call the doctor and ask him to come by again?”
She shakes her head.
I caress the top of her head “Talk to me, Goldilocks.”
“It’s Harley.” Her words are like a slap across the face.
I suck in a sharp breath. “All right,Harley, since yesterday, I haven’t been able to pull out more than a handful of words from you.”
She closes her eyes.
If she thinks that’s enough to deter me, she has another think coming.“I already told you, if a member of your family was a victim of a scam, I can help. You don’t have to be ashamed.”
No reaction.
I let out a long breath. “You can’t keep having nightmares every night, crying, yelling, thrashing in bed. You don’t have to go at this alone. Joe didn’t know who to turn to. That’s why he kept quiet, too embarrassed to let anyone in. You have me in your corner. I have your back. Just talk to me. Please.”
She flips around and pulls the sheet over her head.
She might as well have flipped me the middle finger.
Conversation over.
Fuck.
Chapter 51
Chaos runs laps around my head
Harley
I’m surprised the toil of emotions of the last two days still rolling through me hasn’t burst out of my mere mortal flesh. The secret I’ve been so desperately trying to keep, found its way to Kaz’s front door.
That’s what you get for gaslighting yourself into thinking you can outrun your DNA.
Kaz’s heels echoing on the cement floor, pull me out of my rumination.
The distinctive notes of his cologne float in the room as he comes to stand in front of me.
I keep my eyes trained on the wall, but from my peripheral vision, I spot navy-blue pants.
He isn’t wearing his gray sweatpants.
He sits at the edge of the bed.
I chance a glance his way.
He offers a warm smile.
