“Yes,” I bite out. “She trusted me to protect it for Sebastian.”
“And yet you didn’t trust her to decide who she saw?” Wynter mutters, swiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper.
I turn slowly, my glare cutting straight to Wynter. “Get out.”
I grab her arm and march her towards the door, picking up her bag on the way. She stumbles to keep up. The elevator dings open and I throw her bag inside, then shove her after it.
“If I see you near this place again . . .” My voice drops, low and dangerous. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
The doors slide shut between us and I stare at them, my chest heaving with an ache I can’t explain.
When I finally turn back, Catherine is watching me. There’s no anger in her expression, just disappointment. Somehow, that’s worse.
“Was that necessary?” she asks quietly.
“Yes,” I reply, too quickly.
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “Anika wouldn’t have wanted that, and you know it.”
I look away, my jaw tightening.
“She pushed you two together,” Catherine continues, her voice softening. “Because she wanted to see you happy before . . . before she . . .” Her words break, caught on a sob she can’t quite hold back.
Something twists in my chest, sharp and unwelcome. “Don’t,” I mutter.
“She loved you,” Catherine says, wiping at her eyes. “And she loved Wynter too.”
I drag a hand down my face, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “You know how I feel about lies, Catherine.And right now,” I shake my head, a hollow laugh escaping me, “I don’t know who the fuck to trust.” The room feels too small, yet so empty without Anika. “Anika is dead,” I say, the words scraping out of me. “And I know it wasn’t me.” The silence that follows is heavy. “So, that leaves the agency carer,” I continue, my voice darkening, “or her.”
“Wynter would never—” Catherine starts.
“How do you know?” I snap, turning back to her. “She lied about Luke. She looked me in the eye and lied.” The anger rises again, easier than everything else. “What else is she lying about?” I push. “We don’t know her, Catherine. Not really.”
I shake my head, pacing now, restless,wired.“And this . . .” I gesture towards the door she just walked out of. “This is exactly why I didn’t want her here in the first place.”
“We do know her, Ray. You know her,” Catherine snaps, her patience finally breaking. “And I can see you’re hurting but taking it out on Wynter isn’t going to fix anything. You need her.”
I let out a short, hollow laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t need anyone,” I say, the words automatic, defensive. “Especially not her.”
Catherine studies me like she doesn’t believe a word of it. “So, what now?” she asks quietly. “Anika’s gone. Wynter’s gone.” Her shoulders lift in a helpless shrug. “What does that leave you with?”
For a second, I don’t answer. My mind thinking over her words.An empty apartment? A space where her voice used to be?
I swallow it down. Bury it with the rest of my pain.
I step forward, pressing a brief kiss to Catherine’s cheek, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Now,” I say, my voice steady again, colder, “I find out who hurt Anika,” my gaze hardens, “and I make them pay.”
Dale is hurting too. I see it in the way he stares into space, even the way he drinks, slower than usual, like he’s trying to hold himself together instead of drowning it out completely.
We both loved Anika. Losing her . . . it’s unbearable. It just sits there, heavy in your chest, making everything else harder to breathe through. We were siblings, just not by blood. And that’s a greater bond in my eyes because we chose each other.
He sits beside me at the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, and it’s barely noon. I fill him in on the police visit. He listens without interrupting, which isn’t like him at all. When I’m done, I take a long drink and set the glass down harder than necessary.
“We need to pay Luke a visit,” I say.
Dale glances at me. “Luke? Why Luke?”
