He sent the text and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He wanted to finally feel clean. He craved it. There was nothing he could do about the past, other than make sure it never happenedagain.
Another thought caused dread to rise in his chest: He had to tell Mariana. She needed to decide for herself if she would forgive Bram and give him another chance, or if she wanted to move on.
And he would never tell Mariana the other girl’s name. He couldn’t. It would create an even bigger mess out of this. And he wasn’t sure how Mariana would take it.
One step in the right direction would be to actually fix her car. After calling her name out in the gardens and getting no response, Bram decided to head to the shop and help his brothers. Hopefully, Mariana had simply gone to check their progress, and he’d meet her there.
11
The sound of the front door wrenches me from Bram’s trance.
I stand up quickly, like I’m shaking a spider off my clothes. Fortunately, the foyer is one room over, so Henry can’t see that it’s actually his brother I’ve batted away.
“Hey!” I say brightly the moment he enters the room.
Henry glances up from where his gaze was planted on the floor, and his brows knit together. His eyes drift from me to Bram, to the mugs side by side on the table, and then back to me again. “Hayden. What are you doing here?”
“I texted you,” I say somewhat defensively, even though I’ve come over unannounced a million times before.
“Oh.” He frowns and tugs his phone from his pocket. “Sorry, it was on silent. I needed to think.”
“That’s okay. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Of course,” he says without meeting my eyes. He’s still upset about earlier, which means he’s really going to hate what I have to tell him now.
Bram stands, taking his mug. “I just remembered I’ve got a thing to do,” he says, tipping his head in the direction of the staircase. “Later, Phil.”
“Later.” I keep my voice light, waiting until he’s really gone to take a seat.
Henry slumps against the couch and removes his glasses to rubat an eye. He’s starting to look sleep-deprived. “You and Bram had a little coffee date?”
I laugh, the sound forced. “Sort of. He was attempting to shake me down for information on the case.”
He sits up straighter. “And did you ask him? About Kennedy?”
“Oh,” I say, feeling stupid. “I didn’t, sorry. I thought we’d agreed there was no way it could’ve been him. Did you talk to him?”
Henry’s gaze shifts to the coffee table and then over to the staircase. “Maybe I shouldn’t say.”
“I can’t exactly help you guys if you don’t share anything.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, then leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “I asked him, just to put it out of my mind, once and for all. At first he looked angry that I even suggested he might be over Mariana. But then he got this strange look on his face. Almost guilty? And he admitted that he might’ve had feelings for someone he shouldn’t have.”
My body heats so fast, I look straight down into my mug. “So you think it was Kennedy?” I ask.
“No,” Henry whispers, too quickly. “Of course not.”
“Because if it was,” I say, treading carefully, “it would look really bad for Bram.”
Henry purses his lips in thought, one hand fiddling with his frames. “Are you sure Lydia already told the cops about Kennedy seeing someone?” he asks, desperation in his blue-green eyes. “Maybe it’s not too late to change her mind.”
“She said she already told them,” I say. “I’m surprised the copshaven’t asked about it.”
Henry blows out a long puff of air. “Oh, they will. The good news is that at least now, we’ll see it coming.”
“Unfortunately, that wasn’t what I came to talk to you about,” I admit. “You know how I asked you about Adam and Dr. Russo earlier? Well, after my chat with Adam this morning, I couldn’t get something out of my head.” Henry’s eyes go to my foot, which bounces in agitation. It takes all my concentration to still it. “He was so angry with Dr. Russo,” I continue, “that he said he wasn’t sorry the man lost a daughter.”
Henry’s eyes widen. “Adam said that?”
