Page 55 of Rayne

"What are you doing?" he asks suspiciously, eyes darting to his cell.

"I… uh," I pause. "I needed to call an Uber and my cell isn't here," I finally answer softly, putting it back down on the drawer.

Hawk watches me carefully, studying me. He's waiting for my reaction—and I have no idea what to say.

"Okay then," he replies simply. Walking over, he snatches up his cell, punching in some numbers. When it clicks open, he holds it out to me. "There—Uber app is on the second page. Just charge it to my account."

I automatically take the cell, but don't move or swipe. He's nonchalant about it, the tension still in the air from earlier.

"I'm on your screen," I blurt out, not able to keep it in any longer.

Hawk walks over to some larger drawers, fishing around for clothes. He pulls out a pair of black boxers, removing his towel. "And?"

My eyes scan over his physique as he pulls the boxers on, not looking at me. "Why?"

"Why not?" he shoots back.

I shrug. "It's weird."

He pauses, folding his arms. "It's only weird because you think it is."

"But you hate me," I murmur. "You've said it yourself."

"Yeah," he admits. "Because you said we did. I only agreed with you."

Hawk doesn't wait for my reply, walking out of the bedroom. I stare at the empty doorway, before glancing down at the cell in my hand. Slowly, I click the button on the side, locking the screen. I place the cell back on the bedside drawer, following him out of the room.

I find them both in the kitchen—Jett at the stove, cooking steak and vegetables, while Hawk grabs a drink from the fridge. Neither of them look at me as I enter the room, but Hawk grabs a second can, holding it out toward me.

"That's for me?" I ask stupidly.

He turns his head, a deadpanning expression on his face. "Obviously."

I walk over, taking the can of beer from him. The smell of food wafts through the air and I take a good look at it, impressed that Jett knows how to cook.

I mean, I assume every adult knows how to cook at least some basic meals, but I never pictured him as the cooking type. With all their money, I expected them to just order constantly. But I guess you don't stay rich by spending your money.

"It looks good," I tell him politely, noticing that there's three steaks sizzling away.

They knew I wouldn't leave…

It's an unsettling thought, a hard pill to swallow. While they had forced me to come here, the reality is that they gave me an out. They made it clear they wouldn't stop me if I wanted to leave… and I'm willingly here still.

Maybe it's another mind game. I tell myself that, wondering if Hawk is really that sophisticated that he knew to leave his cell out… to change the photo… to lead me to that very moment. There's too many variables that could have gone wrong or changed, and I resign myself to the fact that maybe I just don't know them at all.

I still don't believe they are good people. But, maybe they aren't bad either. The world isn't always black and white, so why should we expect people to be?

Despite conceding that I've painted them in a light that may not be accurate, it still doesn't answer all the questions. I've argued with them until I'm blue in the face, confident that this is all part of some sick game. I've never known them to lie, only to agree with me. They keep saying this is all for me, and while I still can't grasp what they mean, it leads me right back to one simple question.

Why does he have an old picture of me on his cell screen?

Chapter 19

If I thought the family dinner with all of us was awkward, it doesn't hold a light to this one.

The three of us are eating in silence at their dinner table by the window. In the distance, the city lights of Phoenix sparkle, the last of the orange hues fading into darkness.

The food is surprisingly delicious, much better than I can do. The beer has gone down well, complimenting the steak. It's also relaxed me a little and I'm on my second one, enjoying the emerging buzz in my body.

---