“Yup. Look at him.” Zion closes the distance between us, his hand stroking Seamus’s neck as he looks at me and says, “Are you ready to talk about it?”
I wince, my face twisting at the idea of having to talk about any of it. But after a moment, I nod because at the end of the day, I know I don’t have any choice anyway. May as well get it over with.
“Do you want to talk about it here?”
“Here may be best.”
I frown and ask, “Why’s that?”
“You won’t yell in front of Seamus.”
I smile and roll my eyes, but I don’t deny it. Any conversation about Gemma turns me emotionally charged rather quickly, especially because I’m sure he’s going to tell me I need to mindmy own business or some other variation of bullshit that I’m not going to like.
After a moment, he says, “Do you want to tell me what you saw in there?”
“I saw my sister.”
“Who’s your sister?”
I look away, my sigh deep and pained, before I look back at him. “Gemma. She disappeared a few months ago, and all the leads have turned out to be bullshit. Not that I think anyone was really looking for her, but...” I let my sentence hang in the air unfinished, allowing him to take from it what he needs. I’m sure that the insinuation isn’t lost on him.
“But you think you saw her there?”
“I know I saw her there,” I say with a tinge of anger. I look to Seamus, who, if I didn’t know any better, is staring at me, smiling. I frown at him, lean forward, and kiss him on the face, happy that his calming presence is there.
Zion’s voice draws my attention back to him. “It wasn’t at all well-lit in there. How do you know for sure that it was her? Maybe it was just someone who looked similar, and your desperation clouded your judgement.”
I lean in close to him, staring him in the eyes as I say, “I would recognize her eyes anywhere.”
First, he blinks at me, then his lips twist, and he mutters something to himself I can’t understand. But then he sighs and asks clearly, “Are you blood-related?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” Zion retorts sharply.
Frowning, I take a step back from Seamus, putting a bit of distance between Zion and me. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He eyes me suspiciously, his micro-expressions screaming distrust, but he doesn’t say anything; he just continues to stareat me. I wait a minute and then two, and finally, I ask, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
The building tension in his body suddenly releases. “You really don’t know.”
It’s definitely not a question, but I answer anyways. “Obviously not.”
“Thissisterof yours,” he starts hesitantly, taking a step closer to me. “Gemma. She may have been raised as your sister, but she most sure as shit isn’t your sister.”
“But I saw her with my own eyes. I know she recognized me. She’s my sister.”
“Only in the role she was playing at the time.”
Offended, my hands move to my hips as I retort, “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He makes an impatient sound, then responds, “Oh, little hurricane. You’re gonna have a rude awakening.”
“Well, if you’re going to continue to treat me like I’m stupid without giving me any information,you’regoing to have a rude awakening.”
“Well, since I don’t really know how to say it, I’ll just say it point blank.”
“Well, I sure wish you’d get to it then.”
