Page 82 of I'm Not in Love (I Promise)

I want to stay here on this cheap mattress, with coils poking my back, inhaling the smell of stale cigarettes that’s permeated the fabric. Curl into a ball and take up residence until I wake up from this nightmare.

But I can’t. I know that. My entire life hangs in the balance and I have shit to do, plans to make. Truths to accept about the man Brennan was.

When I finally open my eyes, adjusting my vision to the sliver of yellow light coming in from the bathroom door, I focus on the brown stain and the peeling paint on the ceiling. I’ve gotten through a lot by picking one point of focus and clearing my head, even if those sights sometimes come back to haunt me.

“Blake?” Damon calls to me in a hushed whisper. “Are you awake?”

If I close my eyes again and stay perfectly still, maybe he won’t talk to me? I try, but an itch on my nose betrays me.

“I see you moving over there. Do you need anything?” His bed creaks and before I can answer, he’s crouching beside me, brushing my hair out of my eyes with his warm palm. “I’ll be right back.”

I grieve the loss of his touch immediately and I hate myself for it. Even with everything that’s happened, I still can’t forget about his deception, his complete betrayal of my trust. He’s the reason Brennan is dead. The reason I’m in this mess. Why do I still want him?

The lock on the door clicks and he’s back, once again crouching at my side. “I got you some water and some salted peanuts. They were the only thing in the vending machine that you could eat.”

I open my eyes again and take in the concern on his face. My mouth is too dry to turn away water, and it must have been twenty-four hours since I’ve eaten anything. Scooting up against the headboard, I accept the cold water bottle, and take a long sip.

“Thank you,” I say, wiping my palm across my lips. He leans forward and hands me the pouch of peanuts, watching me open the package with raised brows like he’s a hovering mother handing her picky toddler a vegetable. To appease him, I shake a few into my palm and pick on them slowly. He seems to sag in relief.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, while I chew and swallow a few peanuts, and he observes me with a tilted head. I can tell he’s dying to talk, but I appreciate the time he’s taking.

Finally, after I take another sip of water and put the capped bottle on the bed, he takes my hand. His golden eyes shine with moisture in the dim lighting. “I’m so fucking sorry, Blake. About your brother, about everything. Please… tell me what to do to help you? I’ll do anything to make this right. I’m sorry, baby. So sorry.”

Dipping my head, I suck in a breath to keep my own tears at bay. I need to be strong, to let him know that I knoweverything. That this isn’t just about what happened at the warehouse, it’s about him and what he’s done.

But before we have that conversation, I need to know one thing. Meeting his gaze, I ask, “Where is Brennan’s body?”

He’s not expecting that question. His brows draw together as he answers. “The police showed up soon after we made it out. I’m assuming they have him. We’d have to go down to the station and ask, or I can call Ray and have him check it out?”

After learning what I have about Brennan and his nefarious deeds, I don’t know what I want. But I can’t let him rot there in a morgue. We have different last names. I’m not listed on any of the bills. It could take the cops a while to track me down. I need closure if I’m going to move past this.

“I need to see him, to say goodbye.” Damon catches a tear from my cheek before holding my face in his hands. His eyes burn into mine. So intense, I want to look away.

“I’ll make it happen. Whatever you want, you get.” He pulls me against his chest, and kisses my head like he’s cherishing this moment. “I’m sorry.”

“I believe you.”

After a few hoursof broken sleep, each of us woke up, one at a time, antsy to leave this dump. I’m supposed to be at microbiology class this morning, but there’s no way that’s happening with everything I have to do.

Damon and I leave for the police station. Falin stays to call the airline and change her flight, while the guys look into another place for us to stay. Somewhere safe and preferably without the sound of truck horns blaring at all hours.

Damon’s antsy. I’m sure the police station is the last place on earth he’d like to be, but I appreciate him coming with me. With our hands entwined, we ask at the front desk about a missing person, being vague with our words as to not garner suspicion. I’m not naturally gifted when it comes to hiding my expressions, so I let Damon do most of the talking. He gives our assigned officer a physical description of Brennan and then I open my phone and pull up the most recent photo I have of him, biting my lip to hold back the flood of tears.

The officer pauses and studies the photo for a few moments before telling us to have a seat.

“She recognized him,” I whisper. “He must be here.”

Damon wraps his arm around my shoulder, holding me close. “Yeah, I think so. You’re doing great. So fucking strong.”

His praise warms the ice in my veins. “Yeah well, I have some practice with this situation.”

It was different with Bryan. I had no idea what I was walking into when they called me to identify him. I was sure they’d been mistaken. It wasn’t my brother that they found behind an overpass with a needle in his arm. It must have been someone else.

The memory of stepping into that eerily still room, with its cold metal counters and harsh fluorescent lighting, still plays clearly in my mind. The stinging smell of disinfectant, my plodding footsteps on the tile floor, the moment when the attendant pulled the pale sheet back, revealing my brother’s lifeless form.

Here I am, about to repeat history, except now I know what I’ll be walking into. I’ve accepted it, but it doesn’t make it easy. I don’t register the officer’s appearance as she guides us through the corridors, but her words ring in my ears. “I’m sorry.”

She’s sorry. Damon’s sorry. Everyone’s sorry.

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