“It’s not like that.” My hands curl into fists at my sides. Shame and anger scald me. “It saysprivate commission.”
“While conveniently forgetting to addwhorebetween private and commission.” Barclay stares me down.
“Quit it.” I raise a hand to my chest, willing my pulse to settle. Urging my heart not to bleed out from how my brother’s treating me.
What I don’t do is ask for the invitation back. Then he’d tear it to pieces out of spite.
“You’ll be no one’s whore.” His eyelids grow even heavier. Speech slurring. “End of discussion.”
The sentence ends with a snore.
His entire body goes limp, sagging onto the bed. His hand opens, releasing the invitation.
I snatch it before it hits the floor, clutching it close to my body.
Maybe I’ll never text The Restorer. Maybe it’s a scam.
Or maybe Barclay’s right. Maybe it’s the kind of arrangement where I’m expected to trade sex for money.
But what if it isn’t? What if, for once, I’ll be able to be the hero of my story?
Not to mention, it could be an experience of a lifetime.
Maybe, after that, I’d finally be brave enough to pick up the phone and call Duncan. If he hasn’t changed his number, we could talk about us. Our past. Figure things out, even.
Maybe.
I scurry out of Barclay’s room and into mine, hiding the invitation under my mattress.
Where it’s safe. A secret.
Mine.
3
DUNCAN
My visit to the hospital tonight has one purpose and one purpose only.
To satisfy my curiosity.
Unlike the past ten years, tonight I’m not here to question why Elowyn never looked for me. Or how easily she accepted my disappearance. How her silence wounded me.
Now I have to figure out why she hasn’t replied to my—aka The Restorer’s—offer. We both know she needs the money. Badly.
Still, it’s been a week, and she still hasn’t texted the number I left on the invitation.
I don’t get it.
I mean, it would make sense if she knew who I was.
She doesn’t.
She doesn’t even know that once she says yes, I plan to get back at her.
And man, do I ever.
Breaking her comes first.
