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; “What the hell are you hiding, River?” I accuse harshly. She tenses in my arms, and immediately pushes me away and then walks past me as if she didn’t just dramatically throw herself at me.
This woman is a fucking… I don’t even know what the hell.
“Get out,” she orders stoically, all emotion from her voice gone.
Crossing my arms, I widen my stance and cock a brow, letting her know I’m not going anywhere. There’s a muffled voice somewhere in the house that sounds like they’re yelling, Ryan’s mysteriously gone, and River is acting like she’s hiding something. She’s fidgety and if I didn’t know any better, River is lying. Terribly, at that.
Subtly, I catalog every single detail. Shifty eyes, trembling hands, restless feet and a small splatter of blood on her neck. The smell of some type of cleaning solution filters through my nose, overpowering her sweet cinnamon scent.
“You know you can tell me,” I assure gently, attempting to soften my trembling voice. She did something. She did something very bad.
She snorts. “I can tell a cop anything? Get real, Mako,” she replies, her tone dripping with poison and condescension.
“I’ve already crossed a few lines for you, River.”
“You’re saying you’re dirty?” she challenges.
“Are you saying you’re going to give me a reason to be?” I shoot back. Her lips tighten into a thin line. That would be a huge fucking resounding yes. I drop my head back and heave out a harsh breath. “Tell me, River. I swear I will not arrest you or get you in any kind of trouble. You can trust me.”
When I lift my head back to her, she’s chewing on her bottom lip and looking at me as if she can’t decide if I’m Robin Hood or the big bad wolf. I’m not really sure which I am, either. Depends who’s asking.
“Alison and I had sex,” she blurts. The spit I was swallowing at a very untimely moment lodges in my throat. I choke, coughing harshly as I try not to die before her feet. The evil little sprite would probably enjoy it, too.
The gears in my brain are turning too quickly. The little dude manning my brain is desperately trying to reign them in as I try to process what the hell she just said. She smiles at my reaction, while I feel my face go red. “Are you blushing?” she teases.
“No. Fuck. Yes. What the fuck? Did you really?” I ask harshly, mostly because I’m actively trying to keep my dick from getting rock hard, which is a really big fucking feat when I can’t get the image out of my head.
She nods, and then shrugs indifferently. “Not because we’re like, into each other or anything. I think… we just needed it, you know?”
Weirdly, I do. I get it. Her face is arranged into a blank mask, but something tells me she’s waiting for me to get mad. She expects it actually. But how can I be mad at someone for trying to heal? As much as it pains me some days, River’s body doesn’t belong to me. She can fuck whoever she wants, and I have no say in it. While I’d love nothing more than to have the privilege, I’m not going to hold anything against her when she gives that gift to someone else.
Her lioness eyes study me closely. She’s still guarded and on edge, but yet staring at me with tentative hope that I’ve been completely distracted. It almost worked for a second, but I wouldn’t be where I am today if I let the obvious slip past me.
I allow a slow nod. “But that’s not what you need to tell me, River.”
Her shoulders drop in defeat, disappointed her little distraction tactic didn’t work.
Later, I’ll be revisiting that confession. Thoroughly.
“Ryan’s upstairs. In the attic.” She pauses, seemingly contemplating what else to tell me. I don’t tell her I’ll force my way into the attic regardless of what story she spins. I’m fully expecting her to lie to me.
“I’m torturing him,” she confesses softly.
This time, I was smart enough not to be swallowing, or else I would’ve choked again. The last fucking thing I was expecting to come out of her mouth was the truth. Was she saying it for shock value, expecting me to think she’s lying because the premise is so outrageous? It’s possible she expected me to laugh, roll my eyes, and brush it off as a joke.
As much as it pains me, I had already started putting that together, each puzzle piece sliding into place. Ryan’s absence, the muffled voice yelling for what sounded like help, River’s clear paranoia… and the blood and smell of cleaning solution.
“River,” I groan, rubbing my hand down my face.
“What?” she snaps, giving up all pretense and becoming defensive once again. “He deserves it!”
“It’s not that he doesn’t, River. But have you actually thought this through? What the fuck are you going to do when people come looking for him? When our parents come looking for him? If he doesn’t show up for work tomorrow morning, people are going to question why. Have you considered the fact that you’re going to be the number one suspect?”
Her face increasingly grows pale as I bombard her with very valid questions. Ryan’s too important of a guy for people not to notice him missing.
This time when her shoulders deflate, it’s with resignation.
“I have. I’m just not sure what to say yet.”
