Текст книги "Forgiving Lies"

Автор книги: Molly McAdams

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Epilogue

Four months later . . .

Kash

“YOU GOOD?” I asked Mason as we headed back toward the elevators.

He shrugged and punched at the buttons on the wall. “There’s only so much you can do to get them to go in a different direction. He wanted to follow his brother.”

We’d gotten a call late last night from homicide detectives about a murder that looked gang related. It had ended up being a drive-by involving a newer gang that we’d come across recently, and one of the two victims was a thirteen-year-old Mason had been trying to get off the streets over the last few months named Lil Tay. And though Mason was acting like this was just another case, I knew this was harder for him than the rest.

Knowing there was nothing I could say, I clapped his shoulder and let him be alone with his thoughts. Grabbing my phone, I smiled when I finally saw Rachel’s text from last night.

SOUR PATCH:

Just so you know . . . cleaning up from a whipped cream war without you isn’t nearly as fun. See you when you get home. Love you.

We just finished up, be home soon babe. Love you too.

Rachel had moved to Tampa Bay the week after she showed up in my apartment and I’d never been happier. My parents loved her just as much as she loved them, and she fit in with my life well. Mason’s younger sister and Rachel were practically inseparable and his parents viewed her as an extension of their family, the same way they did me.

Candice was graduating at the end of this month and we were taking a two-week vacation to be there and spend time with the Jenkinses in California before Candice came back with us for a month. Rachel couldn’t wait to see her, and honestly, I think Mason was excited to have that particular hookup back.

Work was going well; Mase and I—as well as our parents—were happy we were out of the inner parts of narcotics. Living that way isn’t something that any cop would want; the reward of bringing down an entire drug ring was what had made it worthwhile. For us to go to the gang division was natural. We knew the ins and outs of different gangs, already knew a lot of the members, and were no longer undercover. It was perfect for us, and we were good at what we did. Most importantly, Rachel supported me one hundred percent.

A month after Rachel had moved here, I’d asked her to marry me again. This time, there was absolutely nothing between us and everything about it felt different . . . felt right. We talked about everything, there were never secrets kept unless there was a surprise involved, and there were never any lies. And even when my family and Mason’s asked for her side of the story about our time in Texas and when we broke up, Rachel never held it against me. She’d gotten everything out the night she came here and left it there. She wasn’t one to hold grudges, and I loved her for it. I would always hate myself for what happened, but whenever I started to bring it up, she would kiss me to shut me up and say we were moving forward.

We were getting married at the end of June, and Rachel and my mom had been busy planning the wedding since we set the date. I loved that she was enjoying this and that she was going to get the wedding she deserved, but I didn’t care about the details. I just wanted her to be mine, and in a month and a half, she would be.

The doors to the elevator opened and we stepped in. Just as they were closing, someone started yelling my name from down the hall and Mason caught the door just in time.

“Ryan! Gates!” Sergeant Ramirez ran toward us and as soon as he was in the elevator, he started pounding on the Close Doors button.

I suppressed a groan. I was exhausted and wanted to get home to my fiancée.

“We already have three units at the scene, and I’ll be following you there.”

Ramirez was a K-9 unit; why did they want his dog, Crush, there? And what scene? “Wha—”

“I know you’re anxious to get there, but you know we’re doing everything we can for this.” The elevator was already moving but Ramirez kept stabbing at the ground-level button. “How are you holding up? You look really calm, are you in shock? Maybe you should let Gates drive.”

That seemed to snap Mason out of his thoughts. His head jerked up and his eyes widened. “Why would I need to drive?”

“And why would I be in shock?” My heart started racing as Ramirez started hitting the Open Doors button.

Ramirez gave both of us an awkward sympathetic look before ushering us out to the underground parking lot. “You weren’t informed?”

“Of what?” I was supposed to be the one in shock. So it had something to do with me. My parents, my– Oh God . . . “What happened?!”

“I’m sorry, I thought someone already told you, you were supposed to be informed already. I didn’t understand why I saw you two walking down the hall. I figured you would have already been there.” He mumbled to himself as he kept walking toward the lot. “Look, I’m sorry I’m the one who has to tell you this.” He stopped walking abruptly and turned to look at me. His expression was one I had seen so many times and had even had to use myself. My stomach dropped and it felt like time slowed as I waited for him to tell me one of fifty scenarios that were flashing through my mind. “A call came into dispatch about an hour ago. It was your fiancée, Ryan. The only thing that came from her end of the call was her saying her name, that someone had broken in—”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I took off running for my truck and had just gotten to the driver’s door when Mason slammed me into the side and ripped the keys from my hand. After barking at me to get in the passenger seat, he fired up the engine and peeled out of the lot.

“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening, Mase, tell me this isn’t fucking happening!”

“Kash—”

“Damn it!” I roared, and punched at the dashboard. “I don’t even know if she’s okay, Mason! What was Ramirez saying, did he say if she’s okay?! Is she—oh God. Rach, baby, please be alive,” I whispered, and slumped into my seat, raking my hands over my face.

I heard Mason on the phone calling into dispatch and asking questions about what happened, but I couldn’t focus on his exact words or the muffled response coming from the dispatcher. I just kept praying over and over again that she was okay. I could deal with our place being broken into. I could replace our things. But I couldn’t replace Rachel. Ramirez came up next to us running code three and pulled in front of us so we could follow him safely with his lights and sirens going.

Mason nudged my arm and I snapped my head to the left to look at him. “Sorry, you weren’t responding.” He looked quickly back and forth between me and Ramirez’s Tahoe in front of us, his face solemn. “They don’t know if she’s alive.” I sucked in air quickly, and Mason continued, loud enough so I would listen. “But there’s no blood. So just focus on that, Kash.”

“W-what?! No . . . what do you mean?”

He took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. “From what units at the scene—uh, your place—are saying, whoever broke in . . . they, uh, they took Rachel.”

Mason was saying something else, but I couldn’t hear anything past the blood rushing through my ears. This had to be a nightmare. There was no way something like this was happening to us again. I grabbed my phone and called her number, praying that all this was a misunderstanding and they had the wrong girl, the wrong address. It rang until her voice mail picked up. I quickly hung up and called again with the same result.

By the time her voice mail came on the second time, we were pulling up to our house and I didn’t wait for Mason to stop; I threw open the door and sprinted past the neighbors standing around in our cul-de-sac and ducked under the crime-scene tape before rushing into the house. The front door was hanging like it had been kicked in, and my first thought was, No one heard that happening and came to help her? It had been barely eight in the morning when Mason and I had started to head home; someone had to have been awake, or at least woken up when all this happened.

Officers were trying to talk to me, but all I could see was that other than the front door being kicked in, the front of our house looked completely normal. Save for the dozens of officers and detectives who were walking in and out of it. Someone tapped my shoulder but I walked quickly to the hallway, barely paying attention to the other officers taking pictures of our bedroom, which looked like a hurricane had just gone through it. I turned into the bathroom and went to the large closet. We had a faux wall set up that was really just flimsy material. But with all the clothes around it, it looked legit, and I’d put it up for times just like this. Rachel had joked that I was going overboard, and at the time I’d agreed I probably was. But now, I hoped like hell she’d used it and that I would find her behind it. Alive.

Opening the closet door, I flipped on the light, and my heart sank when I saw the drag marks on the carpet. I called one of the officers over to take pictures before I walked in there. The female officer snapped photos and I stepped in cautiously.

“Rach?” I said softly. Please, God, be in here. “Rach?” With one last breath, I grabbed the edge of the faux wall and yanked it back. I sank to my knees and a sound of pain left my chest as my eyes fell on our puppy, Trip, backed into the corner whining softly. There was no Rachel. She was really gone. “C’mere.” I grabbed him and pulled him into my chest as I fell back against the wall and the tears that had been threatening started spilling over.

“Kash, you need to see this,” Mason said softly from the doorway to the closet. I looked over at him, rolled to my knees, and stood. “Give me Trip. Go into the bedroom and look at the wall. We’ll find her, okay? I swear to you we’ll find her.”

I handed him the golden retriever and rushed into the bedroom, my eyes widening when they finally landed on the wall opposite our bed. A roar filled the room, and before I could realize it had come from me, two officers were holding me back and trying to get me to sit down on the bed.

On the wall in red spray paint were the words DID YOU THINK WE WOULD FORGET? Underneath was a symbol both Mason and I’d had tattooed on our left forearms before we’d gotten them covered up. The sign for Juarez’s gang, the one we’d had to join on our last undercover narcotics assignment.

“How?” Mason was asking a detective who was in the room with us. And that was a damn good question. The hit on Mase and me had died when the guys hired were thrown in prison for murder. And I knew for a fact Juarez and his boys were all in prison. “Recruiting people from the inside who got out? Or just using people he trusts? Set up questioning with each of them separately.”

I looked up when Detective Byson’s cell rang. His mouth snapped shut as he stopped talking to Mason and took the call. “Byson.” His eyes flashed over to me and a grim look crossed his face as he listened. “Mmm-hmm . . . Yeah. Set up something with Romero Juarez and his attorney immediately. I’m on my way.” He turned to face me fully and slid his phone back in the holder on his belt. “Rachel is alive.”

“Thank God,” I breathed, and tried to stand, but the officers were still holding me there.

“A call was placed about fifteen minutes ago, they said they had Rachel and demanded that every charge against Juarez’s gang be dropped. Before the dispatcher could ask anything, the caller said they would call back in two days and expected progress on the charges being dropped, and would continue to call every two days until the gang was released. They said if there wasn’t progress, there would be consequences, and if they aren’t released within the month . . . she dies.”

“Kash, Kash, Kash, calm down. Come on, man. Calm down. I know.”

Mason gripped my shoulders and I tried to focus on him. The other two officers were now struggling to keep me down as I thrashed against them. Where I was going to go when I got away from them, I didn’t know; I just needed to go. They had my girl. I needed to find out who they were and I needed to get her back.

“I know this is hard. But we’ll find her. I swear.” Mason looked just as panicked as I felt, and it was then I noticed the wetness in his eyes he was trying to keep back.

When I finally stopped struggling, the officers let me go at Mason’s request, but he kept me seated on the bed. “I need to get her back, Mason. I have to.”

“We will.”

“I’ll do anything.”

A determined look settled over his face and he whispered low enough that only I could hear him, “Anything to bring the fuckers down, right?”

I slammed my fist against his and replied, “Always.”

The End for Now . . .

Excerpt from Deceiving Lies

Want more Kash and Rachel?

Keep reading for a sneak peek of

Deceiving Lies!

Prologue

Rachel

I NERVOUSLY FLIPPED my long hair over my shoulders and smoothed my hands down my shirt a few times as I took deep breaths in and out. My back was to Kash’s truck, hiding me from his parents’ house while I collected myself, but I was starting to consider taking off running. Why the hell did I buy and wear heels today?

“Rach?” He laughed when he came around the truck and caught sight of me. “What are you doing? You look amazing.”

I grimaced when I glanced down at my dark, skinny jeans and electric blue top that I’d gone out to buy today, since I hadn’t brought any clothes to Florida that I’d deemed acceptable to meet his parents in. “It’s not the clothes.”

He grabbed my chin and tilted my head back until I was looking at him, and waited until I stopped fidgeting. “They’re going to love you,” he assured me as he brushed his lips across mine. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“How can you say that? I was engaged to their son without ever meeting them, they hardly knew I existed, Kash.” And I got their son shot . . . I knew it wasn’t my fault, my therapy sessions with Dr. Markowitz at the end of last year had helped me realize that. But that didn’t mean Kash and Mason’s family would feel the same. “Honestly, at the time I just thought you weren’t close with them, it didn’t seem weird to me because, well . . . because I didn’t have parents for you to meet either. But now—”

“Stop. You’re overthinking this, they know everything that happened now, and you have no idea how excited my mom was when I called her this morning to tell her you were here. Right now, they’re just happy because they know I’ve been miserable without you. But, babe, they’re going to love you.”

I exhaled roughly and nodded my head. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed me hard before wrapping his arm around my waist and walking me toward the house. “I mean, honestly, how could they not love you and your bitchy personality?”

“You’re such an asshole, Kash,” I hissed at the same second the front door opened and his mom stepped out. Oh good Lord, kill me now. This is where I need to run away.

Mrs. Ryan’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and Kash tried to choke back his laugh but failed miserably. It felt like my stomach was simultaneously on fire and dropping. Not a good feeling, I was going to be sick. I was the freaking Queen of first impressions with the Ryan family. When I’d met Kash at the beginning of last summer, I’d been a bitch to the extreme and our first three run-ins had gone over about as well as a bale of turtles in a sprinting race. Now there I was cussing in front of his mom in the first seconds of ever seeing her.

I started feeling lightheaded as I held my breath waiting for Mrs. Ryan to tell me I was not good enough for her son, or to reprimand me. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a glare at Kash that impressed even me.

“What on earth did you say to the poor girl?”

He raised his hands in surrender before wrapping his arm around me again. “No clue what you’re talking about. And why do you automatically think it had to be something I did?”

“Because I know you, Logan.”

“Eh . . . so anyway. Mom, this is Rachel. Rachel, this is my mom.”

She brushed back a chunk of black hair that had fallen into her eyes and smiled brightly at me. I still felt like I was frozen and didn’t know how to breathe properly. “Rachel, it’s so good to meet you, honey!”

I almost blurted out, “But I just called your son an asshole right in front of you!” Instead, I plastered a smile on my face and tried to relax my body as Kash let go of me and she wrapped me in a hug. “It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you for having us for dinner.”

“Of course”—and then softer so only I could hear—“he gets the obnoxious, asshole gene from his father. But, unfortunately, its one of the things I love most about my guys. You just get used to it and become a master at slyly flipping them off with a smile.”

My eyes widened and I blinked rapidly as we pulled away from each other. Is she being serious?

She smiled at me again and kissed Kash on the cheek before slapping his shoulder. “Be nice to her, she just got here! But always remember this, honey, the minute Richard and Logan stop giving you a hard time, is the minute they stop loving you. So, as long as he’s pissing you off, you know he loves you. Now come on, your dad just started the grill and I’m going to make margaritas for Rachel and me. Oh, do you like margaritas?”

I nodded and then had to shake my head to get my mind working properly again. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do, I love them.”

“Well then, I think we’re going to get along just fine. C’mon, now!” She turned and walked into the house, and Kash pulled me into his side, his lips going to my ear.

“Now was that so bad?”

“Aside from the fact that the first time your mom saw me, I was cussing . . . I think I just fell in love with her.”

He laughed low and pulled me into the house. “Just wait ’til you meet my dad.”

1

Kash

“RACH, DO YOU really need this many shoes?” I watched as she unpacked the third box in our closet, and wondered how any person could ever have a need for that many pairs of shoes.

Her hand stopped mid-way to the shelf with another pair, and her bright blue glare turned on me. I took a step back.

“Are you actually asking me that right now?”

“Say no,” my dad whispered from behind me. “ ’Course it wasn’t, Rachel. He’s just mad that he won’t have anywhere to put his sparkly hooker heels.”

Rachel laughed and went back to putting her dozens of shoes away. “No worries about that one, Rich. I put them up already, they even have their own little place away from everything so they don’t get ruined.”

My mom pushed through Dad and me to get into the closet with an armful of clothes to hang up. “Really, Logan. Give the girl a break, I have more shoes than this.”

“Oh, Marcy! I forgot to tell you—”

“Is this gonna be a long story?” Dad drawled, cutting Rachel off.

“Actually, it is,” she snapped right back with a playful smirk. “So get comfy!” As soon as she launched into her story about whatever the hell those two always talked excitedly about, my dad turned and gave me a shove.

“Have I taught you nothing when it comes to women?” he asked softly.

“What? That’s a shit ton of shoes!” I hissed and looked back to see her pull more out. I swear this last box was like Mary Poppins’s purse. It was a never-ending pit of shoes.

“Okay, we’re gonna do this quick and easy. One, your woman can never have too many shoes, clothes, purses or jewelry. Two, it doesn’t matter if you know you’re right—because God knows your mother is wrong about . . . well . . . just about everything—but it doesn’t matter. They are always right. Just say a simple, ‘Yes sweetheart, I’m sorry I’m a dumbass’ and you’ll be fine. Three, them asking if they look okay is a trick question. Because, let’s face it, even if we think it’s the ugliest shirt we’ve ever seen, it’s probably in style and we wouldn’t know either way. So they always look amazing, remember that word.”

I laughed. Rachel did always look amazing. She could wear a sack and I would think that . . . or nothing. I preferred her in nothing.

“Four, and probably the most important if you want to keep your manhood, do not ever ask if she is PMS-ing. No matter what. Might as well dig your own grave if you do that.”

Too late. I was always asking Rach if that’s why she was in a bad mood. And if I was right, there was no way in hell I was going to tell her I was in the wrong. She could bitch about it if she wanted, but I wasn’t going to go easy on her for the sake of getting out of an argument. Arguing with her was one of my favorite things.

Nodding, I slapped my dad’s shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, Dad, I’ll remember all that.”

“. . . have to go back and see if they’re still there.” Mom was excited about something, and from the look of it, Rachel was too.

“Yeah, we do! Anyway, I just had to tell you about that, I knew you’d flip,” Rach mumbled as she flattened the last box of shoes. Thank God Mary Poppins’ box had officially emptied out.

“That was a lovely story,”—Dad drawled again—“and you tell it so well, with such enthusiasm.”

Mom rolled her eyes and shook her head as she smiled, and Rachel just looked at my dad like she was about to let him have it. At the last second, her head jerked back. “Wait. Forrest Gump . . . really, Rich? You’re using Forrest Gump quotes to insult me?”

“You have met your match, honey!” Mom cheered, and Dad just huffed in annoyance toward them, but shot me a wink.

“She doesn’t put up with your bullshit or mine. Son, I’m telling you, you better hold on tight to that one.”

“I will, Dad. Rach, are you done with the shoes?”

“I’m not sure. If you bring up my shoes again, I could probably sit here and re-arrange them, maybe set them up by color, size of the heel, and length of the boot.”

“Woman, get out of the damn closet. I have to put this up, and if you coordinate your shoes, I swear to you they will be in a pile on the floor the next time you come in here.”

“Logan Kash Ryan!” Mom chided at the same time Rachel swore, “I will gut you.”

My little Sour Patch. So damn cute when she’s threatening my life.

“Wait, what are you putting up?” she asked as she walked out of the closet that could fit a car inside it.

“Fake wall.”

“Uh. Why?”

“Kind of like a really cheap safe room. Actually, that’s a lie. It’s just for you to hide behind if someone were to break in or something.”

She laughed loudly and kissed my throat. “Kash, really? You’re being just a little bit paranoid. We’re not putting up a fake wall.”

Before she could move away, I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “I almost lost you once, I’ll be working shitty hours and there will be a lot of nights you’re here alone. This is for my peace of mind, don’t be difficult.”

“Nothing is going to—”

“Rachel, stop. We’re putting up the wall.”

“You’re being paranoid!”

I kissed her hard once before pushing her gently away. “I probably am, but I don’t care. With all the clothes hung up, you won’t even notice it’s there. And if something happens, it’s there for you to hide behind. I love you, but I’m getting my way on this, okay?”

She rolled her eyes and gave my mom a look that Mom clearly understood since she started laughing. “All right, Kash. If you want to put up the fake wall to help you sleep at night—err, to keep you happy when you’re away—then have at it.”

 

Rachel

“OH MY WORD this is going to be a disaster,” I whispered as I pulled yet another shirt off my body and threw it on the bed before heading back to the closet.

I was so done meeting people in Florida. I had already established I was the Queen of first impressions gone horribly wrong with Floridians, and I could only imagine this one going the same. And, to make it worse, it was Mason’s family. Which meant I got to meet another family of someone that got shot because of me. Well, Blake . . . but still.

I’d been in Florida for two weeks, and though we saw Mason practically every day, I had yet to meet his parents or sister. To be honest, I’d much rather go through meeting Kash’s mom and dad again. Other than the humiliating first few seconds of meeting Marcy, the dinner had gone smoothly and I absolutely loved both of them.

But this particular meeting? I had a bad feeling about it. Call it bad juju, paranoia, premonition or an omen. I’d had my first dream about Blake in over a month the night before, and to make matters worse, Kash had been gone because he’d gotten a call for work as we were getting ready for bed. Ever since I’d woken up in a cold sweat at three AM, I’d been positive that this dinner was going to go wrong on so many levels. Blake being one of them. I was ready for him to be gone from my life. It was ridiculous that even in death, he still found ways to torture me.

Now I was running fifteen minutes late and I still couldn’t find something that would cover all my scars. I didn’t pay a lot of mind to them now, but after the dream, it was like they were neon signs on my body screaming, “Look, look, look, look, looooooook!”

I grabbed a thin, long-sleeved shirt and threw it on, but the MINE on my chest was flashing its bitchy, bright lights at me; so I grabbed a button-up shirt and pulled it over. Even though the top buttons couldn’t button without looking all kinds of messed up because of the size of my chest, the collar still covered the little scar.

There. I’m ready now.

“Rach, what are you wearing? It’s hot outside.”

Don’t care. “It’s winter,” I reasoned as I caught Kash’s gaze in the mirror.

His gray eyes were heating as they trailed over my non-existent ass, and while I loved that he was appreciating the view, this was about to be an epic fail of a dinner. I wasn’t in the mood to be checked out right now. I was having a mini-freak out.

“Yeah, but it’s also seventy today. Take off the shirt underneath.”

“I’m fine.”

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me so my back was against his chest and brought his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I know you’re fine, but you’re gonna be too hot,” he whispered, his voice dropping even lower as he began slowly unbuttoning my shirt.

Goose bumps covered my body when the cool metal of his lip ring brushed against my skin, and I felt myself getting ready to say I would do whatever he asked of me. He was such a cheater. He knew what that ring did to me.

“Open your eyes, Rachel.”

I did as I was told and found his gunmetal gray eyes looking directly into mine. Even through the reflection of the mirror, I could feel the heat from them and sense the want. His hands trailed over my chest, waist, and stomach; the pressure so light I almost couldn’t feel it, but it was doing insane things to my stomach and my breathing quickly escalated. I watched as he slowly took my top shirt off, the movement of his hands so calculated and controlled, I felt like we had just entered some form of foreplay. If I’d thought I had wanted to stay home earlier, I was definitely all for skipping this dinner now.

After he tossed the first shirt onto the bed, his hands did their barely-there touches over the swell of my breasts and down my waist again until he hit the hem of the long-sleeved shirt. One hand slipped under, and a breathy whimper of need sounded in the back of my throat when his warm hand caressed my bare skin. He smiled against my neck and nipped on it lightly. I wanted to shut my eyes and enjoy every touch, but everything in me was screaming to watch the most erotic undressing I’d ever witnessed or been a part of.

Like with the first, his movements were slow and controlled as he pulled this shirt higher, but now he gave little teases of fingertips being brushed against my skin. By the time it was over my head and he was letting it fall to the ground, my entire body was on fire and I was practically panting with need.

“Rachel,” his voice traveled over my bare shoulder like a caress, and I let my bodyweight fall against him.

“Hmm?”

Suddenly he was gone and I stumbled back a step before catching myself. I turned to see where he’d gone and my button-up shirt hit me in the face.

“What the—”

“Get dressed, we gotta go.”

“The hell, Kash? You can’t do stuff like that to me and then stop!”

“Have you forgotten what frustration feels like?” He asked huskily and I wanted to punch him in the face.

“I hate you.”

His lips curved up into my favorite smirk and he winked. “I love you too, Sour Patch.”

Douche.

OKAY SO I GUESS I should be thankful that the meeting went off relatively smooth. Mason’s parents and sister were actually really nice, and although we’d gone through the mandatory introductions for me, Marcy and Richard had come to dinner also and made the introduction fast and flawless. I’d just kept my mouth shut for the first five minutes unless I was saying the customary hellos and it’s so nice to meet you toos, and I didn’t have anything to worry about.

Until dinner started anyway.

“So, Rachel,” Mrs. Gates began and took another sip of her tea before continuing. “We’ve heard bits and pieces of what happened in Texas from the boys. But you know how men are with details,” she teased.

Mother effing shit. Bad juju! I knew it!

“I’ve really been wanting to hear your side of what went down.”

I got your sons shot! I had to bite down on my cheek so I wouldn’t say something of that nature as I took a breath to collect my thoughts. “What went down at the end?”

“The whole time they were there. We had no clue where they even were and didn’t talk to them more than once or twice a month, so we don’t know what was happening.”

Memories of the few months in Texas with the guys went flying through my mind and I swallowed hard. I knew this was coming at some point, Marcy and Richard had never asked and I knew it was only a matter of time. But I was fine with never reliving those three months again.

Kash seemed to sense the unease pouring off me and stopped talking to Mason and Mr. Gates. “You okay?” he asked softly, and sat back when he realized the other half of the table was completely silent. “What’s going on?”

I looked up and caught Marcy and Richard giving me sympathetic looks. They had to want to know this too, and it hit me then that Kash must have told them not to ask me. There was no way we could have gone this many days together without them saying something unless he had talked to them.