Page 72 of Insurgent

Danny shuts the door, dropping his phone on the table. “I had some business to take care of.” He rubs his eyes and pops his neck.

I narrow my eyes. “Whatever that means.”

He exhales.

“Can you tell me why I’ve been stuck here all day?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bexley. Maybe because someone is trying to kill you.”

“There he is,” I say.

“What are you talking about now?”

“The asshole who’s Danny O’Brien. My husband just died, and you leave me here in this dump all day, not knowing anything, not having anyone to talk to.”

“Don’t talk down about my place, and Mae is downstairs if you wanted to talk to someone.”

“You’re such an idiot, Danny. The woman is in love with you. I’m the last person she wants to have a conversation with.”

He stops, removes his watch, and looks at me. “Why would she feel any certain way toward you?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” I ask.

“I really don’t know, Bexley.”

I shake my head, looking back out the window. I hear the clink of his watch and then his wallet hits the dresser along with some change.

“How long have you been seeing her?” I ask, not looking over at him, but in my peripheral I can see him remove his shirt before he takes a seat on the bed.

“Years,” he says.

I keep my eyes focused on the evening sky. “Do you love her?” I’m inquiring about something that may hurt me. Flaw of being human.

I look back, because I need to see his facial expression. He rubs a hand over his five o’clock shadow and the light reflects off a black diamond ring I’ve never noticed before. His hands are fully tattooed, showing a skeleton as if it’s his own. It’s 3D. My eyes go to the necklace he wears, just like I still wear the bracelet he gifted me.

Samuel questioned this bracelet one time and I lied and told him it was a gift from my mother.

“Do I love her?” he asks. He lifts a brow, shaking his head slightly. “What do you mean by that? Do I love her the way you love Samuel or the way I love you?”

I don’t respond. Instead, I look away again.

“Nothing?” he says. “You ask that from me and then you have nothing to say?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just tell me the truth. All I want is the truth from you.”

“What truth do you want?”

He stands up and walks over to me. Reaching down, he grabs my arm. “This truth. You still wear my bracelet after all this time. Why?”

I look at my wrist before looking at the necklace that resembles it. “And you still wear that. There’s your truth. No matter what we do…where we go, we can’t rid ourselves of the past. It follows like an unwanted shadow.” I see his busted knuckles, and once again I’m reminded of the monster he is.

“Is it that unwanted?” he asks, and I feel his thumb brush against my wrist. My eyes shoot to his before going to his bare chest, the ink on his skin, and the muscles under them. Once upon a time, I would have relished in his touch. Bathed in it, like the summertime sun.

But I don’t know this man anymore. I yank my hand away. “Yes. It’s that unwanted.” I look toward the window, and he inhales.

“Noted,” he says. “I won’t touch you again. Have you eaten?”

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