I stand, unable to sit with these questions any longer. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Pierce.” Mickey’s voice stops me as I turn to leave. “Whatever happened back then, whatever you did or didn’t do, you were just a kid. Remember that.”
I nod stiffly, something thick and painful lodged in my throat. “Thanks, Mickey.”
“Don’t be a stranger this time,” he calls after me.
Outside, the night air hits me like a splash of cold water. I lean against the brick wall of the bar, letting my head fall back with a soft thud. Mickey saw right through me. And he’s right. I’ve been pretending I’m okay for so long that I almost believed it myself.
I pull out my phone and bring up Beckett’s number. He’s still on the ice if he’s playing or cheerleading from the bench. I can’t fuck up his game like I’ve fucked everything else up.
But I have to make that right. Even if I lose everything.
Chapter thirty-five
LIAM
Icheckmywatchagain. Seven minutes until Ash is supposed to arrive. The kitchen feels too quiet with just me here. I’ve already arranged the snacks in the basement three different ways and adjusted the thermostat twice.
I spin the package on the counter as I wait for the kettle to boil. Tea might help settle me. I’m fucking drinking tea.
I canceled on Enzo when I got the text from Ash. The Raspberry Pi and RAM modules, a few control boards for the laundromat, finally came in, all sitting snug in bubble wrap now. AI is eating up all the chips, and I’m not dumb enough to buy anything high-end and traceable.
So instead of crawling through the insides of industrial washers, I’m sitting here crawling out of my skin instead.
I flip my new iPad open and stare at it. I gave her my Pro with the Apple Pen and all, and just replaced it the next day.
With only a little guilt, I located the device earlier today. It was at Little Red Hen Diner. I am presuming that’s where she works.
I had left myself logged into everything on that iPad. Safari, Chrome, Apple ID.
I scrub both my hands through my hair and let the rationalizations flow.
We don’t really know who she is. I’ve pretty much ruled gold digger and puck bunny out.
She has secrets. And I’m not going to be a little bitch and hold that against her, considering the shitstorm Pierce and I are sitting on.
I can’t shake the idea that something is seriously wrong with her.
We don’t even know what her last name is.
I’ve already exhausted every google search avenue.
This is no different really. Right? Fuck me. The temptation to spy on her device is too strong.
I tap into Safari and pull up history on that device.
The first few searches are innocent enough.
procreate tutorials beginners
how to blend colors digital art
Nashville bus schedule downtown
Nothing surprising for someone learning a new skill, navigating a new city. But then there’s a dramatic shift.
what is coercion
