Page 120 of Threaded Lies

“What?” I stare at Bob and set the file down absently without thinking.

“You’re somewhere else that is not listening to me right now, but that sure as shit got your attention.”

“I said I’ll review them. I have another meeting to get to.” I glance at my watch.

“Tonight?”

“Are you questioning me?” The chill in my smile ends the conversation.

But when he leaves, when I watch him on the cameras depart out the back door of the complex without encountering anyone, I sit down on my couch and sigh. There is no meeting for me to go to. There is no anything. Just more thoughts of Rowan and how I did what was for the best.

The Chadwick farce is over.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

I set up the little scenario at The Vine, ending the thought of Chad touching her and tarnishing her reputation a little.

Maybe I tarnished it because I wanted it to match mine?

I pour some scotch and take a sip but even that doesn’t dull this shit. The feelings. The wanting. The needing. The falling.

Best-case scenario? Remind her of the man I am, not the man she wants me to be. Because the man who walked in here months ago is definitely not the same one sitting here right now.

Remind her how?

By putting the rest of the plans in motion. Kickstarting into gear why I came here.

By making her hate me before she can love me.

That’s the easy way out.

But I’m pretty sure it’s too late.

And not just for her.

But for the both of us.

FIFTY

Rowan

If I thought my mom’s call sobered me completely, rushing down the hall under the bright, unforgiving lights of Memorial Hospital finishes the job.

Worry and fear course through me. Own me. Terrorize me.

The last time I was in a hospital with these feelings was when I was seventeen and thought Cassie had been in a simple fender bender.

How wrong I was.

So tonight I rush down these halls with trepidation nipping at my heels and memories weighing me down that I’ve never been able to shake.

“Mom.” Her name is a croak as I fall into her arms and hold on for dear life.

Because that’s the thing about families. You can hate them. You can love them. You can fall out of like with them. But when it comes down to it, in a moment of crisis, they’re all you have.

The fundamental differences you have are momentarily reduced to petty bullshit.

The unspoken words you wished you said or are glad you didn’t now become trivial.