“Honesty only.”
“I could’ve been wrong,” I answer slowly. “About Milo.”
“Just promise me one thing,” she says, turning back around to face her mirror. She picks up her applicator but doesn’t move to continue applying her mask. She takes a deep breath and stares at me through the mirror instead of straight on.
“Anything.”
“Don’t forget about me. My brother might not have been your mate, but that doesn’t mean you can kick me to the curb, Willow. I don’t care what anyone says. You are my sister.” Layla’s eyes are watering, and I know mine are too. She’s more afraid I’ll leave her when she’s been one of the few people I consider family. Everyone had let me go, but not her. She followed me when she could and chose me. How could I ever leave her?
“Never.” I say, a smile coming back to my face as I get up to wrap Layla in a side hug. Nola comes to sit in Layla’s lap, missing the attention, I guess. I hold on to Layla, my arms wrapped around her shoulders as we stare at each other through the mirror. “Nothing could stain our relationship, Layla. Nothing.” Milo might not have been my mate, but Layla and I were always meant to collide. No one can tear her away from me, not if I can help it. And between me and my bear, it’d be a darn hard task.
“Have you gotten anything from Ghost lately?” I ask her while she is still wrapped in my arms, and I run a hand through her pin-straight black hair.
“I didn’t want you to worry, but since we’re being honest,” she says, going back to applying her mask.
“What do you mean? Layla—” I cut myself off, worst-case scenarios running around in my brain ass if they’re at a track meet. I knew there was no way Ghost was done. I’m not dead, and that if that is his end goal, which makes my skin crawl, but what’s a girl to do?
“I’m not sure, but... I think I’ve seen him,” Layla mutters and rolls her eyes.
“Has he hurt you? Why haven’t you told anybody? Are you okay?” I rush through my questions. I drag myself off of Layla to see with my own eyes that she is okay, and she shrugs her shoulders and sighs.
“He hasn’t touched me. I think he’s been following me, though.”
“You think? Layla, even if you think it is only your imagination, I need to know. I need to know if you’re okay. I need you to be okay,” I say. Was she not comfortable telling me this?
“I am, though. I am okay.”
“How long?”
“Since I started my new job.” My heart drops as I realize that’s after he attacked me in my apartment, but before the tea poisoning.
“What does he look like?”
“The same as you described. He doesn’t get close, but I can see him through the shop’s window. He leans against his car—a black Audi, I think, and watches me.”
“Is he there every day?” I ask.
“No.”
“Does he scare you?” It doesn’t quite make sense to me why she’d wait till now to tell me or anyone. Did the Enchanted Pack members never see him? Does he come after they drop her off and leave?
“You won’t understand,” she says, shaking her head.
“Try me.”
“No, he doesn’t scare me.”
“Even knowing he strangled and poisoned me?” She sighs and looks away, almost guilty, and that’s when I have my answer. “He’s tried to kill me, Layla.” I say, even though my point feels moot. I don’t know why he hasn’t tried to come after her, even though she’s the one that started this whole thing upagain. I’m glad he hasn’t hurt her; I’d rather him come after me than her, but I can’t figure out why. Is it because she’s young? Even if she has this connection to him, this doesn’t change what Eddie and I agreed on.
We have to kill Ghost. As much as I may not want to, I don’t think we have another choice.
“Why did you stop contact with my family?” Layla asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. She has curious eyes and even more questions, reminding me she was left out of the loop all those years ago. I had been dealing with the idea that Milo was murdered longer than Layla had. She was fifteen when it first happened, and her parents told her it was a hiking accident. When she began to think it was a murder, I’m not sure, but it brought her here, so I’m selfishly happy. Happy enough, I should probably tell her the truth about what happened.
“It was in the small coffee shop on Third, where I ran into your parents for the last time,” I say. I grab a wooden comb peeking from her top drawer and focus on combing her hair as I tell my story. “They ripped into mysillybelief that Milo was killed in front of everyone at the shop. I was embarrassed. I guess they had hoped to shame me into letting it go, and it worked.”
I was hurt. They didn’t have to agree with me. I understood why they wouldn’t, but to make fun of me for thinking their son was murdered was too much. “Your mom told me to stop being selfish, to let their son rest in peace, to stop making everything about me. They got people around them laughing at me and talking down at me as if I was a kid. I mean, I guess twenty is young for shifters but?—”
Layla rests her hand against my forearm. She knows. If anyone knows what Mr. and Mrs. Barrow are like, it is her. Layla is young, but I’m sure her heart hangs heavy after having to live with them.
