Page 62 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

Luke steps toward her, fist clenched around his dagger nearly as tightly as his jaw. Tatianna’s eyes flash scarlet in the darkness. The two stand mere feet apart, gazes locked and blazing.

A long moment drags by. Luke doesn’t lower the dagger, but he doesn’t lunge at her, either.

Finally, her stance relaxes. She spits at his feet. “You weren’t worth my time back when we were lovers, and you’re not worth my time now. I’ll let Beliar deal with you.”

Twenty

The silence inside the van is crushing. Or, at least, it would be, if it wasn’t punctuated by honks and Luke cursing the sea of vehicles surrounding us.

“How about a fucking signal next time?” Luke barks at the sedan cutting us off.

From the open window of the perpetrator, a furry fist protrudes holding up a middle finger.

After fleeing the motel and Tatianna, Luke tore down the open road, tension building with every mile. I’ve refused to be the first to break the quiet yawning between us as Tatianna’s “advice” swirls through my brain. Getting trapped in the special hell that is rush-hour traffic is the cherry on top of our shit-storm sundae.

“This is ridiculous,” Luke huffs. “I hate the Midwest departments because everything’s too spread out. In the bigger divisions, employees either live in the same buildings they work in or in a compound within walking distance. Not this mayhem.”

I pointedly stare out the windshield at the seemingly endless cars.

Luke’s thumb taps on the wheel. “You’ve been quiet. No comments about my road rage?”

It’s been a herculean effort to bite them back, but I’ve managed.

He sighs. “I’m sorry Tatianna called you a toy. That was inappropriate.”

“Your newest toy.” I can’t help but correct him.

He swallows, eyes flicking to me. “What did she talk to you about in the tavern?”

There it is. What I’ve been waiting for.

But I want him to sweat. To crack. I’m sick of the secrets. “All kinds of fun things.”

“Like?”

I inspect my nails, feigning casualness. “Like that you have a hero complex. Which kind of checks out, because why else would someone willingly go to hell.”

He drags in an aggravated breath. “I don’t have a hero complex. I’m protective of the people I care about and can’t sit idly by if there’s something I can do.”

“We also talked about your brother.”

His mouth closes so fast I can hear the crack of his teeth snapping together.

“My brother,” he echoes. Were the steering wheel a neck, it would be broken in his white-knuckled grip. “What about my brother?”

“That he betrayed you. That my dagger was his.”

Something severs inside me, the events of the past night—the past week—boiling over as I drop the act and face him. “I’m tired of being in the dark and dancing around the things we won’t say. I’m sick of not knowing who or what to believe about you. We need to trust each other if we’re going to save Krystal and the others. If Beliar is half as clever as he was in my apartment, we have to be that much more so. We can’t if we’re both holding our cards to our chests. Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

Admittedly, not the most mature ending line. He stares ahead. The seconds drag on, silence stretching taut as a rubber band on the precipice of snapping.

“My brother.” Luke’s voice is rough, as if he’s scraping each word from the bottom of a grave. There’s pain there, buried beneath the contempt. I hate that this hurts him. I hate that I care.

I soften my tone. “I know we said we don’t have to get to know each other past niceties but—”

“I do want to know you,” Luke interrupts, meeting my eyes for a sincere split second. “The big things, like what you wanted to do instead of med school, but also the small things. Your favorite food and flower. If you like rain or loathe it. I want you to know me, too. It’s just…a lot.”

Butterflies swarm my belly. Hello, you mutant caterpillars, I’m trying to hold my ground here.