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She then looks back and forth between my two captors and wrinkles her nose. “You both need to get cleaned up.”
“Hello to you, too,” Griffin offers with a grin, but Dallas only flashes a tight smile. Always stoic.
Teagan leans in a little, murmuring into my ear. “He’s waiting for you in his apartment. Go to him. You have a lot to talk about.”
That’s the thing. We have plenty to talk about, but it will not be any easier for me to explain myself than it would have been before. I can’t avoid it any longer, though, so I get on the elevator and try to ignore the way Dallas and Griffin follow close behind me. What, are they afraid I’ll find a way to run? All I can do is grit my teeth and put up with it, counting the floors as the car rises until a soft pinging announces our arrival. They don’t follow me out, I notice, only waiting for me to exit before the doors close. Congratulations, boys. You delivered the package.
There’s no time to absorb my familiar surroundings before a sharp voice rings out from somewhere in the apartment. “It’s about time. Come, sit down.” I follow the voice, my heart pounding with every step I take. I’ve been through much more dangerous situations, where there were much higher stakes hanging in the balance, but there’s something uniquely panic-inducing about a situation like this. Where history is involved. Blood.
Mason is waiting for me at his kitchen table, his hands folded on the surface in a parody of calm and restraint. Anybody looking at him right now would think he was waiting for some bland, everyday sort of meeting to begin. I know better. The man is barely containing himself. I see it in the way his jaw ticks, in the narrow set of his eyes, and the flaring of his nostrils.
Rather than say a word, I take a seat across from him and fold my hands the way he has. I take a deep breath and release it slowly. He does the same. Silence stretches out between us, silence so profound and full of blame it might as well be ear-splitting screams.
It doesn’t take long before I can’t stand it any longer. “Here I am. Let me have it.”
He doesn’t move a muscle beyond his mouth. “Let you have what?”
So this is the game we’re playing. “Tell me everything you want to say. You’ve had enough time to come up with plenty. You deserve the chance to let it out. Here I am. Let me have it.”
His head tips to the side, a familiar gesture. “Do you think that’s what this is about? Do you think I’m going to scold you? Maybe I’ll bitch you out for the inconvenience?”
“For starters. I would expect nothing less.”
He blinks rapidly before shaking his head, while his jaw somehow tightens even further. He’ll break it before much longer if he isn’t careful. “I won’t waste time complaining about the inconvenience you’ve put us all through. You know this is deeper than that. Don’t insult me and don’t waste my time. I want answers—real answers.”
“And all you have to do is ask,” I whisper.
“Very well. How long have you known our mother is alive?”
“For a while.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
He slams back against the chair, the muscles of his face twitching while his eyes dart over me. He’s looking for answers. I wish I could offer them. “Did you forget who you’re talking to?”
“Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?” I counter. “You’re not Dad. Don’t talk to me that way.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he snaps. “I’m your brother. I know you. We’ve worked side-by-side all these years. Don’t give me some bullshit act where you’re going to sit and give me the defiant attitude. I know you better than this. So why don’t we start again?”
“We can go through this as much as you want,” I tell him with a shrug. “But you’re not going to be satisfied. I knew Mom was alive. I knew she didn’t want you to know.”
“So you chose her. You chose to shield her from me.”
“That’s not at all what happened.”
“Goddamnit, tell me what did happen. Why are you being so cryptic? Can’t you come out and tell the truth?” His eyes narrow to a pair of slits. “Or are you still shielding her? Is that what this is about?”
“No. I promise you, that’s not it.”
“Then what is it? You’re making it impossible for me to trust you.”
“I am so sorry for that,” I tell him, and I mean it with all my heart. He’ll never understand how sorry I am. “It doesn’t change anything. I did what I thought I had to do.”
He barks out a flat, bitter laugh. “And how many times have I heard that? It never ends well.”
