“I trust you.”
I close my eyes, my heart freezing solid in my chest. “Clara—”
“No. You fought to stay present, Trips. I almost died, but you’re here, taking care of me, protecting me. I trust you. And you don’t get to take that away.”
“I almost lost it.”
“But you didn’t.”
I rub my chin against the back of her head, hair catching on the sharp edges of my scruff. “You shouldn’t forgive me.”
“I never said I did. You made a mistake. A big one. But I asked you to work on yourself, to prove you could change. You’ve proven yourself to me. And I’m willing to move forward, to build on the trust you’ve earned. I just thought you should know.”
Closing my eyes, I war with myself over her words. I want her trust, need it. But part of me wants her forgiveness, too. The little boy who still sits in my heart, wanting everything to be okay, for the slate to be wiped clean.
Only, when it comes down to it, I couldn’t accept her forgiveness, even if she’d offered it. She’s strong, capable, and finally able to set expectations for the people around her that are as high as she deserves. I can’t be a barrier to her growth, the same as she’s been nothing but a help to mine.
My voice cracks as my whispered question leaves me. “Blank slate going forward?”
“Wiped clean.”
If there were anyone here to ask, I’d tell them the steam from the tub collects on my eyelashes. It’s a lie. Because, for the first time, she’s offering me a fresh start, and for the firsttime, both of us have grown into the kind of people who stand a chance to make good on that fresh start.
I won’t lose it when she needs me most. And she won’t accept a weak apology with no plan to be better.
“Thank you,” I whisper, rocking her body closer to me in the water, small waves rolling over us, drenching the fabric weighed down between us once again.
She says nothing, but she twists, pressing her nose to my neck.
I almost lost this tonight. Lost her. Because my not-brother can’t handle a woman telling him no. That’s unacceptable. And the longer we lay in the tub, my fingers growing pruned, the angrier I become.
My not-brother just made an enemy of a man he’s constantly underestimated. And I’ve learned new tricks he’ll never see coming.
He’ll pay for almost taking her from me. And I can’t wait to watch him crumble.
Chapter 32
Walker
When the alert I set for the master manipulator’s calendar pops up, I’m strangely proud of taking on calendar management. It frees RJ up so he can dig into why a group of pedophiles are coming to town. And the fact that the alert comes in at the exact right time to delay my trip home for Thanksgiving is a bonus I’m feeling owed by the universe after all the shit we’ve dealt with.
I have no idea what Trips and Clara had to do to get evidence sent to the blackmail bunker, but I’ve decided not to think about it. But the mural on my bedroom walls now includes blood and bones in one corner, so I’m obviously worried. Even if I’m pretending I’m not.
RJ takes off in the van first, heading out a few hours before the blank spot in the calendar, in case Westerhouse runs other errands first. We stuck the Santa’s Elves Light It Up emblem on the side of the van, as it’s a good excuse forsitting on the street without anybody asking questions. The visibly high cartoon trees falling over each other still make me chuckle every time I look at them.
I don’t often do cartoons, but I have to say it’s some of my best work.
And because it’s a cartoon, nobody realized I designed it. I even made a sparse website for the company, so it looks legit enough. Somebody should have figured it out by now, but I guess I’m just that good. I should probably say something, but honestly, I’ll take whatever zings of joy I’ve got right now.
I’ve always said my art was tricky.
Emma picks me up with Jansen in her passenger seat, and I wave off our tail.
Even though Jansen’s energy isn’t quite right, it’s great to see him bouncing on the seat. It’s clear he’s better than he has been.
The last of our unmonitored cash goes toward two shitty cars that Jay promises will run, and once Emma goes home, he lets me know we can cross another guest off our list—Tao will send runners to pick up any hot cars we have after the wedding. I’m glad Jansen’s up for taking the initiative. It’s been a while since we've trusted him on his own with anything important, even if we did just give him a small adventure at Bryce's. With the hot car situation figured out, Jay and I caravan to the western suburbs, ready to tail Mr. Westerhouse wherever he’s going. I’ve got my earpiece in and my sunglasses on, the light blinding off yesterday’s fresh blanket of snow.
We wait only twenty minutes before RJ announces that the paternal evil has left the estate and assigns Jay as the first tail.
