Page 81 of Safe Word

My throat tightened, the image of us resurfacing like the sweetest memory.

Because it wasn’t just that I’d taken what I wasn’t allowed – it was that he’d let me break the rule.

I flung my legs over the edge of the bed, dragging my fingers down my face as though I could rub the memory away – if only for a single breath.

The shower was sobering. I scrubbed – harder than necessary – at the remnants of Scarlett, of him. If I’d left his scent on my skin, I’d lose my mind by the end of the day.

My muscles ached, as if they didn’t belong to me; as though someone had rearranged me in the dark.

My thoughts refused to stop their incessant sprint, replaying every second in flashes that left that familiar, delicious hunger behind.

I grabbed my jacket and car keys, about to bolt out of the flat when my phone suddenly rang. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat, as I fumbled with the mobile while locking the door on my way out, until my eyes hooked onto the name on the screen.

Matteo.

My oldest brother.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the green button as my strides slowed towards the garage.

He was the oldest of us. And when our dad died, he took up the mantle. He wasn’t the kind of person you ignored. Not unless you wanted him showing up at your door.

Taking a steadying breath, I answered.

‘Hey, Matty.’

‘Hey, Birdie.’ His warm, booming voice came through the line, a mix of cheer and exasperation.

The nickname was given to me by our Dad. He always told me I was a loud, chirpy, bouncy little girl – like a little sparrow. When he died, I’d tattooed the bird on my wrist – so I’d always be reminded of him whenever I looked at it.

‘What’s going on? I’ve been trying to call you all week!’ Matteo ground out.

‘I’ve been busy,’ I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. ‘New job.’

‘You couldn’t spare five damn minutes to check in, huh? What, you’re some hotshot now? Too fancy for your big brother?’ The familiar blend of sarcasm and Italian exasperation in his voice was like a caffeine shot straight to the heart.

‘I’ve just had a lot going on.’

I sighed.

There was a pause on the other end – and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. ‘Paula, is everything okay?’

I forced the knot in my throat to untangle, my grip tightening on the phone. ‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?’

Nothing was ever fine, but I also knew nothing ever would be.

The silence that followed squeezed like a noose around my neck.

Matteo’s voice was softer this time, weighted with something that made my stomach twist. ‘Paula, I need you to listen to what I have to say. Do not freak out.’

I froze, my heart already hammering in my chest as I nestled in the driver’s seat and shut the door to my car – locking it instinctively. ‘What is it?’

He let out a long, heavy exhale, the sound crackling over the line. ‘Travis is out, Paula.’

A sharp breath stuck halfway through my throat, and the world tilted slightly, the edges of my vision blurring.

‘What?’

‘He was released last month,’ Matteo continued, his voice tight with frustration. ‘Good behaviour, apparently. They couldn’t pin the murders on him – not enough evidence. His lawyer produced some last-minute alibi, said he was with someone else during the time of the deal.’