Page 54 of Trustfall

Luke eases me off the bike, removing my helmet. I release my hair, my damp waves tumbling free, and his fingers brush my cheek, tucking a wayward strand behind my ear before leaning close, placing a featherlight kiss on my lips. “Thanks for today. It was the best day I’ve had since I came back here.”

“I should be the one thanking you. For the ride…and for showing me your spot.”

“You mean the motorcycle ride or…” His eyebrows jump up suggestively.

I laugh and swat him playfully with the back of my hand.

“Both,” I admit.

“There’s no one else I would rather have done that with. Any of it,” he says, rubbing his thumb against my cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask hopefully.

“You bet, Little Wells.”

I turn to walk up the pathway to the front steps when he calls out to me.

“Hey Emory.”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever your story is, it doesn’t define you either.”

I want to run to him. I want to say screw this stupid dinner and stay with Luke, because he makes me feel like I’m enough. I want to tell him about Jaxon and the texts so we can figure it out together.

But I don’t. I nod and give him a small smile before I walk up to my front door, eager to get this night over with.

19

EMORY

I pullup to my dad’s circular driveway, after doing the whole song and dance at the gate, at exactly eight o’clock. I scramble out of the car and rush up to the front door. Maeve takes my jacket and doesn’t have anything to say about my attire for once.

“They’re in the sitting room,” she says as she ushers me down the hallway.They?Not again.You have to be kidding me. I round the corner and see my dad, scotch glass in hand, chuckling as the brown liquid sloshes back and forth with his movements. He looks up when he hears me enter.

“Oh, Emory. I’m so glad you could finally join us.” His tone is slightly biting.

“I told you I’d be here at eight. It’s eight.” I can't help but sound annoyed and frustrated as I glance at the other couch across the coffee table, where my dad is sitting, and notice a man sitting there with his back to me. He’s wearing a navy suit, and his hair is cut close at the sides but styled perfectly on the top where it’s a little longer.

Ashton?

No, his hair is too light.

He turns around, flashing a saccharine smile that showcases his flawless white teeth on his tanned face.

No.

A rush of nausea rolls through me like a tidal wave, and I falter on my feet. The room tilts sideways as the dizziness crashes into me. I taste bile, bitter and sour, as it rises to the surface and coats the back of my throat. My stomach lurches and my chest tightens. Shit, I’m going to be sick. I swallow it down, willing myself not to throw up right here in the middle of the living room. But then my eyes start to cloud, and everything becomes blurry. I blink, feeling liquid start to seep out of them. I rub my eyes quickly, smearing the tears on the back of my hands.

“Emory, did you hear me?” My dad says, completely oblivious to my state of panic. Did I? No. I haven’t heard anything in the past thirty seconds. Not since I saw Jaxon sitting on my father’s couch. He looks almost exactly the same as the last time I saw him. Perfectly styled sandy blonde hair, angular jawline, piercing green eyes. But there is something different. He has dark circles under his eyes and what looks like a fading bruise colors his cheek with light splashes of purple and yellow. He looks like he’s been beaten down a little.

“Emory, this is Jaxon Forbes,” he says as if he’s repeating himself, his tone irritated at best.

“He’s thinking of hiring us,” my dad goes on. “His family has a real estate firm in New York, but they are looking to beef up their cybersecurity at their California location. Anyway, I figured since Nate was gone, we could use one more person to round out the dinner table.”

I look at my dad and back to Jaxon, whose smile has turned dark and unsettling. He’s holding a rocks glass, like my father, but his contains clear liquid instead.Grey Goose on the rocks.His drink of choice. The smell of vodka still makes my stomach churn.

“Nice to meet you, Emory,” Jaxon speaks in the factory-made, sweet tone I know so well. “Sorry about imposing on family time. I had a few logistical questions for your father, and he insisted I stay.” He stands up while he speaks and holds his hand straight out to me. I stare down at it, frozen, like it’s a grenade about to detonate.

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