Page 40 of Twisted Truths
“This is why, for your protection, I’m announcing you as my next Chosen.”
Chapter Fourteen
NASH
Levi barrels through the front door, clearly coasting on the high of the game when his bellowing voice fills the space. “You should’ve seen Cartwright’s shot! A buzzer-beater from way outside the arc. The gym went nuts. I’ve never seen a kid with such natural talent since?—”
He stops short at the door to the living room when he sees us.
Paige and I are tucked up opposite each other on the three-seater couch. Two glasses sit on the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey between them. I lift mine in a silent toast and down the rest.
Levi’s smile falters. “What happened?”
I huff a humourless laugh. “I hope you’ve got no plans on Wednesday.”
“Nash,” Paige scolds me with a sigh. She rises and walks over to press a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
His expression shifts, subtle but not invisible, as he steps farther into the room. “Something tells me I’ll need a drink forthis,” he mutters, helping himself to Paige’s forgotten glass and the bottle of whiskey before meeting my gaze. “What’s on Wednesday?” he asks warily.
“Oh, you know,” I say with a shrug, blinking back the tears prickling the corner of my eyes. “Burying my family.”
Levi’s hand pauses with the glass halfway to his lips. The breath whooshes out of him as he stumbles over to the single armchair and drops into it, somehow managing not to spill a drop. “Christ, Nash. Way to drop it on a bloke.” He chokes down a mouthful of his drink. “When did all this happen? I didn’t even know they’d released the bodies.”
“Today.” I reach for the bottle to pour another glass. Levi watches me, sympathy shining in his eyes, which only fuels my anger. I don’t want sympathy; I want fucking revenge.
“I would’ve been there for you.”
“Why?”
He flinches at the harshness in my tone. “Fuck, Nash. Ziggy was my sister, too. You’re not the only one hurting.” Releasing a shaky breath, he runs a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
There’s a weight behind his words. Not quite an accusation, but it leans in that direction. I consider them, rolling them around in my head. Levi and Zara might have shared our father’s DNA, but he didn’t stay up with her when she was crying after breaking up with Alex Forsyth in year eight, or hold her hand in the ambulance when she broke her wrist after falling out of a tree when she was six. They only became close after Mum and Dalton divorced, and Ziggy wanted to piss our daddy dearest off. I’m not a heartless enough bastard to throw that in Lev’s face when he’s the only family I have left besides the sorry excuse for a man whose sperm brought us into this world.
Instead, I release my own steadying breath and say, “It was something I had to do on my own.”
Levi frowns, but doesn’t push it. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
“I have a meeting with Father Malachi after Sunday’s mass to go through the order of ceremonies. George mentioned the eulogies, and…” I clear my throat. “I thought you might like to give one?”
“Yeah, of course. For Zara, or everyone?”
I shrug. I’m struggling to write my own, let alone his. He’ll figure it out.
Silence stretches between us, awkward and heavy. The kind that makes your skin itch.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, loud in the stillness.
I snatch it up like it’s a lifeline.
“Hey, Clay,” I say, rising from the couch and heading outside to the backyard.
“Nash—” My agent’s American accent is softer than usual. “Been thinking about you, man. Just wanted to check in to see how you’re holding up.”
I sit on the back deck, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Hanging in there, I guess. The funeral’s on Wednesday.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “I’m really sorry, Nash. I can’t even imagine … Just know you’ve got people in your corner. Whatever you need.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Thanks. Appreciated.”
