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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CARMEN
Waking up feels different. Almost as if I’m still asleep and dreaming—that’s the best way to put it. Memories of my entire life keep flashing behind my eyes like the universe is trying to tell me something. I shake it away as I stretch. Between my thighs is sore, it feels as though I’ve swallowed an entire cup of sand, and my head is pounding.
As I stand, I wrap the sheet around me, wincing at the aching pain that shoots through my arm. I tiptoe toward the door and stop behind it. With it cracked, I can hear Hatcher and Cyrus talking. I focus on both their baritones, ignoring all the other sounds around like the coffeepot brewing, birds chirping outside, and Tiny’s nails clattering against the floor as he moves around.
“You have to promise me something, Hatch,” Cyrus starts.
“Anything,” Hatcher replies.
“If something happens to me, you have to keep her safe,” Cyrus says, dropping his voice a few octaves so it’s almost impossible to hear. Almost.
“As long as her friend pans out, we should be fine. We’re too smart—too prepared.”
“Should,” Cyrus emphasizes.
Silence falls over the house for a moment before Hatcher speaks again. “You have my word. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Their conversation quickly dies, so I open the door further and slip out. “What’s going on?”
Cyrus shakes his head. “Nothing. Just making sure Hatch has everything he needs before leaving. You should get dressed so we can leave too.”
“Now?”
“We need to strike while we have the upper hand, Carmen,” Hatcher replies.
“I know. I just thought…” I trail off.
“You had more time?” Cyrus finishes for me.
I nod. More time with you, more time avoiding the inevitable, more time acting as if everything is okay, I think to myself, but I don’t say it out loud.
“Everything will work out how we planned. Go get dressed.” Cyrus juts his chin toward the bedroom.
I comply and slip back into the bedroom. I’ve had doubts and made them clear, but hearing how worried Cyrus sounded talking to Hatcher makes me realize this is probably worse than I thought. For a moment, I had a sliver of hope everything would work the way we want, but now I’m not so sure.
I push the thoughts down and grab some clothes from the bag Cyrus took from Lydia. Basic tank top and shorts along with tennis shoes. Simple, comfortable, easy to blend in. That’s what I’m going for. When I exit the room for the second time, Hatcher is nowhere in sight as Cyrus leans over the kitchen counter, sipping some coffee.
“Got any Tylenol? I have a killer headache,” I ask, walking through the threshold.
He pulls open a drawer and tosses me the bottle. “Are you ready? If we want to make it to Bexley at a decent time, we need to get on the road.”
I shake two pills into my hand, then pop them into my mouth. Snagging the coffee cup from his hand, I take a sip and swallow them down. “As ready as I can be. Not too fond of the idea of telling my dad I know his dirty little secret,” I reply honestly.
He circles the counter and wraps me in his arms. “I’ll be with you. Just lay it out, get the money, and we can leave.”
I scoff. “You make it sound so simple. There will be more to it than that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I have a lot to say.”
He pulls away and smiles down on me. “Spitfire really suits you.”
I shrug. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He nods and leads me back to the living room, where we gather his bag, my purse, and Tiny. When we exit the house, he locks the door, then walks to the passenger side of his SUV and opens the door for me. Once I’m inside and buckled, he closes it, then opens the back and orders Tiny in.
