Page 10 of Mr. Match

“I think the meet-and-greet went really well,” Cindy says, nervous smile all over her face. “It was over in like ten seconds.”

“Ford pulled him off.” Ariel laughs. “Belle called me.” And then she deadpans a look over at Pax, who is too busy gulping down his liquor to give a shit. “You had that coming, Mysterious.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, refilling his glass. Cindy walks over and starts making an ice pack for his eye as I picture that fight in my head.

I smile and feel sorta satisfied that my big, bad friend got slugged by my big, bad father. “Did you hit him back?” I ask, wondering.

Pax shoots me a disgusted look over his shoulder, then goes back to his drink.

“Anyway,” Tori says. “Isn’t it great that we’re all here?”

“You know what would be even greater?” Cindy calls from the bar. “If Ellie came up too.”

“Right?” Ariel says. “And Ivy. Oh, let’s go call Ivy. I’m sure she could use a nice vacation from all the stress.”

All three girls are suddenly on the move and a few seconds later it’s just me, Pax, and West.

“We’re in big trouble,” West says.

Pax slumps down into a chair in front of my desk, drink in one hand, other hand holding the ice over his eye. He sighs. “I got a call from Liam Henry just before we left California.”

West and I shoot each other suspicious looks. Then direct our attention to Pax.

Pax stares at me for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. His gaze tracks to West. Eyes red and bleary. Filled with fatigue, like he hasn’t slept in a while. “Says he’s gonna tell me what’s going on.”

“Yeah?” West says, that one word laced with suspicion. He narrows his eyes at Pax and I start to get a very bad feeling about all this.

“Yeah,” Pax says, swirling the ice around in his glass. “Says all I gotta do is finish the job I started and every question about that night will be answered.”

Chapter Four - KATYA

“Katya,” Oliver says in the video. Just the sound of his voice is enough to make my whole body tingle. I have to pause it and swallow hard, butterflies taking over inside my stomach.

“Get it together,” I say out loud. “Keep calm and don’t lose your nerve.”

Easier said than done.

I have to close my eyes and take deep, deep breaths. How can one word affect me like this? After almost four years. One word.

That word is your name coming from the lips of the only man you ever cared for. And you have a job to do. So focus.

The voice in my head isn’t mine, though. And that’s equally as unsettling.

I get up and go to the kitchen, take out my bottle of Stoli vodka from the freezer, and set it in front of me. The bottle isn’t pretty like Grey Goose. It’s not something you keep to admire like Crystal Head. In fact, the label screams Cold War communism. But it’s got a lot of memories. Good memories. Stoli is like grilled cheese and tomato soup when you’re sick.

Comfort.

I grab a long-stemmed cordial glass and pour. Just one ounce. I don’t want a buzz, I just want… comfort.

“To coming home,” I say, then down the shot.

It goes down smooth, replacing the chill with fiery heat. I carefully set the glass down and turn to face the computer.

This is why I’m here. This is what I’ve been planning for. This is the moment of truth.

I go back to my desk and press play.

“Why did you come back?”