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Jesus, Octavia.
“What are these tattoos?” I trace them. “They look like barbed wire.”
“Zane Madden did them for me,” he says, glancing down at them. “He was my wife’s adopted brother.”
“Was? He died?”
“Fuck, no.”
“But she did,” I whisper. When he doesn’t speak, I say, “I know about your wife.”
He shoves away from me and gets up, scowling, his gaze going stormy. “The fuck you think you know. You know nothing.”
I recoil as if he slapped me. “Matt…”
“Get out.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I won’t let then fall. I don’t know why, but I’d do anything to hide them from him.
“Fine,” I say unsteadily and stand up, then turn blindly toward the door. “Whatever.”
Not gonna let him see.
I hope he’ll call my name, stop me. Explain. Apologize.
He doesn’t.
Not that it matters anyway. I don’t know what I thought I was doing back there, touching him, letting myself want him. Letting myself fall for him.
What an idiot I’ve been.
Chapter Fifteen
Matt
The piece of paper in my hand reads “Remember who you left behind,” the hole left by the knife that was used to stick it to my door almost taking out the word “you.”
Nice touch.
“And you said you have no idea who this person is talking about?” John Elba, the young cop I talked to last time, says over the phone. “These people you left behind?”
“No fucking idea.”
This is messing with my head. Last thing I need with my state of mind right now. Who the fuck did I leave behind? My parents, my brother. They were fine without me. It’s not like I left the country, or the planet. I visited. They visited me, too.
“All right.” He’s quiet for a moment, and I think I hear the clacking of a keyboard, but it might be the wind. “No forced entry, no other sign of this person’s presence on the premises?”
I frown. “What do you mean… like vandalism?”
“Yes. Or anything indicating she or he attempted to force entry into the house, or your car, or left any other message somewhere.”
“Didn’t notice anything.”
“You checked?”
“Hell yeah, I checked.”
“Calm down, Hansen.”
