Page 64 of The Brutal Arrangement

That dread of being caught sneaking around suited her.

And the terror of her glancing at the dead phone proved that she was determined to keep this secret from me for as long as she could.

Every clue of her panic reinforced what I knew had to be true.

“I warned you not to fuck up,” I growled as I advanced toward her.

“I’m not!”

“I heard you.” I grabbed the front of her robe as she tried to backpedal away from me. “I heard you saying you’d spy and report in!”

“No. I’m not!” Her hands were useless over mine. She could pry and bat and resist all she wanted, but I wasn’t letting her have any mercy.

“The fuck you weren’t. I heard you!”

She shook her head. Tears leaked from her eyes as she tried to breathe through this panic attack that I witnessed over her face. “No!”

“I heard you!”

“I’m not spying!” She sucked in a wheezy breath, glaring at me with a mixture of too many emotions for me to track.

Sadness.

Anger.

Indignation.

Fear.

Panic.

Agony.

“I’m not spying,” she insisted hotly, her voice choppier with the tears she couldn’t hold in. “I was on the phone with the facility where my mom is.”

25

LUCY

Icouldn’t believe that I blurted that out.

Damon surprised me. No. He’d scared me, sneaking up behind me like that. I was so engrossed with that call from the nursing home facility that I’d zoned out. As I listened to the director as she explained that my mom would be sent to another place, everything in me froze.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t. Locked down in utter panic, I tried to understand her when she said that my mom was about to be packed up and removed from her current place. She wasn’t going to Dream Garden where she’d fare better with proper care tailored to her situation. She was going to be moved to a crummy, low-quality, state-run facility that was probably more like an institution than a residential place where she could be even slightly comfortable.

With tunnel vision, I’d fallen into an instant pit of despair. Nothing cut through. I couldn’t react to anything. So when Damon growled behind me, speaking so menacingly, he’d caught me off-guard at the worst possible moment.

That was the only reason I’d break and blurt out anything at all about my mother.

“Tell the truth.”

He didn’t lighten up. His fingers stayed curled tight on the front of this robe he’d rip if he wanted to. On his face, I saw nothing but a deeply lined scowl that emphasized the scar above his eyebrow. He was venomous like this, full of nothing but fury.

And doubt.

He didn’t believe me.

“I did,” I insisted, feeling so stretched thin and raw with what I’d learned since the fluke decision to turn on my phone.

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