"We got the new security system installed," he tells me. "I'll show you how it works."
"Okay." It comes out as almost a whisper.
He places a bandage on the wound. "Are you okay? Is something else bothering you?"
"All of this bothers me." I pull my arm back, cradling it against my body as I step around him and out of the bathroom. Before I retreat to the bedroom, he stops me again.
"Come sit down, Saige. I'll make you a drink."
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Because you look like you fucking need one," he says.
"Um, yeah. Okay. I just need to change my clothes first. I'm filthy from falling in the street."
I do need one. And like I said, I'm still a little afraid of him, so after I change into my sleep shorts and a tank top, I do what he says, sitting down on the couch with Arcadia beside me while Nolan pours two whiskeys.
He hands me mine, my heart stopping when I accidentally close my hand over his own before he pulls it back, but heseems unaffected. I wouldn't normally drink straight liquor like this, but I think he's right—this time, I fucking need it. I gulp down half of it while he sits in the armchair.
"I'm sorry about what happened this morning."
I shrug. "It's no big deal. Anyway, Elias has been torturing me for years—all of you did, and none of you ever cared before."
"I didn't."
"Really? I remember when you set my backpack on fire. I had to cut my hair."
"Mmm, yeah. The hair smelled. But that wasn't me; it was Dax."
My mouth gapes. Now that he's said it, I know he's right. But I don't remember it that way. I can't picture it anymore.
"Well, you were there…for all of it. You let it happen, just like everyone else. And even after you were gone, it didn't stop." I don't mean to say it, and I wonder for a second if he's going to react like Elias did. I take another drink from my glass just to shut my ass up.
"Everyone has their own shit, Saige. Mine was pretty heavy then. I didn't have the luxury of caring about what was happening to you, and I can't be sorry for that. I'mnotsorry about it. Still, Elias shouldn't have put his hands on you like he did."
He throws back the contents of his glass, sinking further into his chair and propping one foot on the coffee table before flipping the television to a football game. I sip my whiskey slowly, watching him, knowing he must be able to feel it, but he's ridiculously still. Thick black hair falls in front of his face.If he were a friend, I'd reach over and brush it away from his eyes.
But he isn't a friend. And I'm not sure what that touch would do to him, but I don't think I want to find out.
"Will you tell me why?" I ask. "I won't tell anyone."
There's something behind those cold eyes now. But it's only for a second, and whatever it is doesn't make me feel any better.
It's nauseating. It makes my skin crawl.
"No," he says flatly before turning away. "And don't ask me again."
I consider apologizing before my phone vibrates again. Nolan turns back, cocking an eyebrow as he watches me pull it from my pocket.
Another unknown number. I open it, finding a photo of a knife on a dirty countertop. The messages come in after that.
I think I'll shove this in your pussy first.
I'll tie you up, fuck you with the blade, and then I'll start cutting off pieces.
If you make it easy, I'll start with your toes. If you make it hard, I'll start with your face.
"Saige? Who is it?"
