Page 22 of Twisted Truths
“Rowan,” I respond, nodding stiffly.
“I’m sorry to hear about your family,” he says, his tone blunt but genuine. His eyes soften slightly, a rare break from the usual hard edge he carries around.
“Thanks,” I mutter, my throat thick with emotion.
“If there’s anything we can do, don’t hesitate to reach out.” The Ridge Rider VP’s expression is unreadable, but his words are an unspoken understanding that he has my back. “I mean it. Anything at all.”
“Appreciate it.”
When my coffee order is called, I take my cup, nodding at the guys before heading back to the market.
The crowd has grown, the quiet peace from earlier now a chorus of laughter and conversation. Bianca and Paige are deep in the flow of business, chatting with customers and selling their homemade jewellery with practiced ease.
I settle into the background, nursing my coffee and trying to blend in.
But it’s impossible to stay invisible for too long.
Well-meaning locals stop to offer their sympathy, each murmured, “Sorry for your loss,” a painful reminder that I didn’t protect my family. I couldn’t stop what happened. I failed them.
Shifting uncomfortably, I nod politely, but inside, the weight of it all is eating me alive. Their pity is suffocating, and I find my gaze wandering, searching for something else to focus on.
Gabriel and his brother are deep in conversation with a group of women over by the Sunfire Circle stall. My chest constricts as I watch the Solomon brothers exude their easy charm that draws people in. I have no doubt they’re spewing their brainwashing bullshit, but there’s nothing I can dowithout drawing attention. My eyes drift to the two girls behind the table passing out samples and serving customers.
I straighten, realising Hadley isn’t with them. Scanning the crowd, I search for her auburn hair, but there’s no sign of her. My eyes flick to Gabriel, who’s still commanding the attention of the locals. Before I can think about it, I move towards their truck, weaving between stalls.
My heart races the closer I get to the truck, anticipation swirling in my stomach. I keep telling myself that finding her alone will give me the chance to question her about Ziggy, but deep down, it’s more than that. I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t explain and desperately want to know more abouther.
I shake my head. This is so wrong. I should be focusing on clearing Ziggy’s name, not getting myself caught up with a member of a cult that I’m sure is responsible for the death of my family.
When I round the back of the truck, I freeze. She’s leaning forward, reaching for a box of produce. For a moment, I simply stand there, transfixed as I watch her struggle with the heavy pallet.
“Need a hand with that, Hadley?” Her name feels so right falling from my lips, my voice barely a murmur as I step into her space. Without waiting for her response, I reach over her and pull the wooden pallet of fruit to the truck’s edge.
Her body stiffens from our proximity, and in her haste to move away from me, she trips. With lightning reflexes, my hand finds her waist, steadying her. She gasps, her eyes darting to the market before she slowly drags them back to me. She doesn’t meet my gaze, settling somewhere on my torso.
It both angers and pains me to see her so skittish. What have they done to her to make her feel this way?
“Are you scared of him?”
Him.
Gabriel.
The reminder is like a bucket of cold water thrown over us, and she twists out of my grasp, putting space between us.
“You need to leave.”
The desperation in her voice tugs at my insides, and I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Please. I don’t know who you are, but this is improper, and?—”
“Nash,” I interrupt, taking a small step forward. “I’m Nash Stone.”
Her eyes widen, the recognition flashing through her green orbs stopping me in my tracks.
“You know who I am?”
“No.” Hadley shakes her head, but the lie is clear on her face.
