Page 65 of Never Forget

“I’m not sure you do, son.”

“I’m not your fucking son. And I understand that you’re tucking tail right now.”

“I need to do what I need to do to keep you safe.”

“If you say so.”

At that, I turn and leave, nearly knocking into Emmy on my way. “Naz? What’s–” He looks behind me. “Oh.”

I move past Emmy, hearing him tell Blake to let me go.

Once I’m out of Blake’s office, I’m too… everything. Angry. Upset. Confused. Worried. Pissed beyond reason. It’s all so overwhelming. I need to sit down. I take a seat at the end of the conference table everyone was sitting at earlier. Emmy hasn’t cleared the refreshments from the room yet, so I grab a bottle of water and drink half of it in one go. Leaning back in the seat, I let my head fall back, replaying my conversation with Blake over and over in my mind.

I said too much. Acted like a petulant child and showed my entire hand. They all knew I was sleeping with Scott, and I didn’t give a shit that they knew. But I did give a shit when anyone accused it of being more. And here I just said it out loud. That I need him.

SEVENTEEN

NAZ

Just as my phone buzzes, likely Lawrence calling to check on me because it’s been well over ten minutes, a door creaks. At first, I tense up, thinking that Blake or Emmy is about to come in here and try to make me feel better or tell me to go with my new babysitter, but there’s nothing. No footsteps, no sounds of conversation. Just silence.

I glance around the open conference room door, looking first at the hallway I was supposed to exit through to see if Lawrence has come to retrieve me. Movement to my left gets my attention.

Scott?

At first my heart does this stupid skip-double-beat in my chest, my breath catching with something almost like relief that he’s still here. Something feels off, though.

He’s moving with deliberate purpose, shoulders squared, steps light, looking around his surroundings cautiously. I pull back before he spots me, wait for two breaths, then chance looking again. Scott has his back to me now, carefully turning the handle to Blake’s office and peeking in before he slips inside and quietly pulls the door almost closed behind him.

I stand there for a moment, staring at the door he barely left ajar, wondering what the fuck just happened. Maybe Blake called him back in? Or maybe he came back to finish the conversation?

But if he was going back to confront Blake, why did it seem like he was trying to be sneaky?

Curiosity gets the best of me before common sense has a chance to intervene. Keeping my footsteps light against the carpet the way Scott did, I step into the hallway and quietly make my way to Blake’s office.

Through the slight gap in the door, I can’t see Blake or Emmy. The lights are on, and I’m sure I saw Emmy’s things on his desk just outside the door. They were in here, I know they were. Surely if I heard Scott sneaking around the office like the Pink Panther, I would have noticed two people, one of whom is a chatterbox, leaving.

The only person I see, though, is Scott. Scott, who crosses the room directly to Blake’s desk, his eyes roaming purposefully over the clutter on our manager’s usually very clean and organized workspace. Scott, who closes Blake’s laptop before picking it up and slipping it inside a black backpack slung over one shoulder.

I stumble backwards, my mind racing. What the actual fuck is going on here?

Pressing my back to the wall, I take several slow, measured breaths and try to process what I just saw. Is Scott really stealing from Blake? What could he possibly need his laptop for? Why would he do this?

Unless…

The texts. All of his secrets.

I refuse to believe Scott would do anything to hurt me for his own gain. But what if they got to him? What if they threatened him or someone he loves?

Before I can stop myself, I’m pushing the office door open.

“Scott?”

There’s no answer, and the room is empty. I take two cautious steps inside, my eyes sweeping the room. Blake’s laptop is gone, so I didn’t hallucinate Scott taking it. I search the room again, eyes lower, but there’s nowhere a grown man the size of Scott Riley could hide.

There’s a light on in the bathroom, a shadow moving in front of it. I take another slow step inside the office, closer to the bathroom.

A sudden awareness of a presence behind me sends a chill up my spine. Before I can swing around to face them, a heavy arm wraps around my chest. At the same time, a broad hand clamps firmly over my mouth before I can make a sound.