I drove back home in silence.
My perfect day with Shay had shattered into reality. Seriously, what the fuck was I thinking? I didn’t get to have normal. By trying tobenormal, I was putting Shay in danger.
When I got home, I tossed my keys on a side table with a loud clank. The lights turned on with me as I went to the kitchen. I was going to bake. I was going to slam this bullshit into some goddamn butter.
The kitchen lights turned on, illuminating a very large person sitting at my counter, their back to me.
“Jesus.” I jumped. “How long have you been sitting here?”
“Awhile,” Stone said, not turning around.
A tangible silence fell, static and buzzing against the hair on my arms. I slowly walked to the other side of the counter, facing him.
We hadn’t talked since our ill-fated attempt at lunch.
“Hungry?” I asked. “I was going to bake?—”
“Why?” he asked. “Why did you join? It doesn’t make sense.”
I exhaled and stepped back, leaning against the sink, running my hands through my hair. He wasn’t supposed to find out about this.
Finding out his sacrifice was in vain would gut him.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I said, hoping he’d let it go with that.
But, of course, he didn’t.
“What does that mean?” he said.
I dragged my hand along the back of my neck.
Stone stood up, planting his hands on the granite. “Tell me the truth or we’re fucking done, Calder.”
I could see the veracity of his words burning in his blue eyes, but words got lodged in my throat, stuck on a suspended breath.
He exhaled a disgusted sound and turned to leave.
“They told me they’d kill you in prison if I didn’t take their deal,” I said to his back.
He froze, and though I couldn’t see his face, I knew his reaction by the way his shoulders fell. By how his head hung.
Fuck.
When Stone turned around, he’d done his best to conceal the emotions on his features. But when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
“You do what Dad did?” he asked.
A thin thread of fear wove between his brows, but he quickly erased it.
“No,” I said. “Fuck no. I clean their money.”
His shoulders sagged, barely enough to notice.
Then he straightened his back. “I’m getting you out.” He spun around on his heel again, as if about to go confront the entire fucking Mafia.
I ran around the counter and grabbed his arm. “You can’t.”
He peeled my hand off his arm. “I will.”
