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He keeps looking around like he expects to find blood or bullet holes. There aren’t any. The agents only disturbed some of the papers on my desk. From my brief glance last night, nothing was taken, which tracks with what Leo said. There are no charges against me. And the only casualty of last night was Daphne’s painting. I think, with special care, it can be fixed. If she wants. I’m not sure that she does.
I sit down at the kitchen island and fold my arms on the top. Sin paces around so he can look at me. He leans against the counter. Straightens up. Frowns.
“I couldn’t stay at Will’s anymore. It was too long. I couldn’t sleep.”
“He said you were sick.”
“I wasn’t.”
Sin raises his eyebrows.
“I had an attack once I left the house. And when I got to Will’s. It didn’t stop. I told him it was a cold so he wouldn’t worry.”
“Emerson.” His exasperation has no humor in it. “He worried anyway. And then you fell off the face of the planet.”
“No, I came here. So did the Morellis.”
“What?”
“Her older brother was here when I got home.”
Sin lets out a long, creative string of curses. “Which one? Doesn’t she have ten older brothers?”
“She has four older brothers. And it was the protective one. The one who wanted to kill me the most.”
He’s around the kitchen island before I have time to get up. Sin’s hands come down on my shoulders and he leans me away from the counter.
“What the fuck, Em. What the fuck. What did he do?”
I bat his hands away. “Nothing.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“We fought. He had a knife. I was going to let him—” Murder me in my own house. Make it easier for Daphne. “Daphne showed up with another one of the brothers.”
Sin winds both hands through his hair and leans heavily against the kitchen counter. “How are you alive right now?”
“That’s what she wanted.”
“Tell me—” He clenches his hair in his fist and lets go. “Tell me you’re not keeping her here again. Tell me this isn’t a death sentence.”
I summon all my skepticism and shoot him a look. “She answered the door for you. And she didn’t run.”
Sin walks to the back of the kitchen, then stares out the window over the sink. I could put my head in my arms and fall asleep again. My vision is relatively clear, at least. The painted texture only appears in the shadows.
Something’s different, however. I can’t say how. I’m waiting for Sin to speak. To rage, if he’s going to.
“It can’t be like this.” He crosses his arms. Drops them to his sides. Crosses them again. “You have to talk to us when it gets this extreme.”
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”
Sin rolls his eyes. “I’m making it my business. I told you I was coming back, and I meant it. I’m buying a place in the city. Or out here. There are a couple—you know what? It doesn’t matter. You can’t keep pretending that no one cares about you.”
“I’m not.”
“You walked out of Will’s place without leaving a message. You didn’t answer your phone. You showed up in a wetsuit, on the run from the fucking Morellis, and then—”
“Fine.”
