Page 46 of Flame
A conflicting array of emotions wash over me, setting my skin on fire and making my hands shake. The doubt is the worst part, the uncertainty.
For a dangerous second, I play with the prospect of telling Liam everything.
But even trying to imagine Branden’s retaliation makes me shrink from the thought. As I settle behind the counter, my mind turns to another topic I’ve been deliberately avoiding—the video. Would he really upload it? Has he done it already?
I scan the various patrons perusing the bookshelves. Will one of them happen to stumble across a video of a girl having sex in her bed with a man adorned by a dragon tattoo?
The act itself isn’t what makes me feel so helpless; I have to blink back tears. It’s what it conveys. The lack of control over my own body cuts deep, more violating than any other action Branden’s taken so far.
Except, maybe in the old days. In those memories, I’ve spent years avoiding. They feel as foreign to me now as old, dusty photographs tucked into a box at the back of a basement or attic.
The days of Lexi, and Branden, and the twisted ending to that saga.
“Excuse me?”
I startle to awareness and find a woman standing before me, holding a book.
“I’d like to buy this, please,” she says.
“Sure.” I ring her up and turn my attention to the remaining customers. By the time closing approaches, I’ve seen a steady stream of business, more than enough to distract from my thoughts. When the store is finally empty, I take my time cleaning up before stepping out into the night.
Now what?A part of me wonders.
A glance at my phone reveals an absence of text messages from either Rafe or Mara. All I can do is stare at the clock, pouring over my options. Should I go back to my old apartment? Wait for Branden to track me down, if he isn’t on my heels already?
Or go to Rafe…
He’s probably with Mara now, heading to Faith’s memorial. I don’t have a right to feel a damn thing about it, especially not jealousy.
Not that he’d need a reason to move on,that hateful voice in my head taunts.He told you before—you’re just a fling—a diversion.
Even so, they both deserve an apology in person.
I exit the bookstore and find myself heading toward the park Mara mentioned. The service itself isn’t hard to spot—a circle of ethereal orange, the result of the assembled crowd, and each attendee holding a lit candle. As I approach, a woman hands me my own as well as a brochure sporting a smiling photo of Faith. I flinch at the image. She looks so happy. So innocent.
Could Branden really be responsible for her death?
I squash the thought without deciding on an answer and creep closer to the circle of mourners. It’s too dark to make out anyone from this distance. I have to wander from person to person as a speaker recites a list of Faith’s attributes.
I listen avidly, caught off guard by the depth of emotions each speaker conveys. It’s a beautiful if somber service. But I don’t see Mara or Rafe. It isn’t until my third trip around the gathering that I spot two figures who make my heart sink with recognition. The first thing I notice is a pathetic, selfish observation—they resemble a couple. The man is taller, his arm protectively thrown around the woman’s shoulders. It isn’t until they pass the glow cast by a lit candle that my suspicions are confirmed.
Rafe spots me first, his gaze rigid and indecipherable. Without taking his eyes off me, he murmurs something to Mara and pulls away. Deliberately, he takes a step in another direction, but a sharp jerk of his head warns me to follow.
My heart pounds with every step I take, letting him lead me away from the gathering to a quieter section of the park. The second I’m close enough to touch him, I rush to speak. “I’m sorry—”
“Save it,” he snaps. In the dark, his features take on an angular, fearsome appearance. In a way, he seems more like his dragon than human. “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses. I’m done. You want to fuck your ‘brother,’ then, who am I to stop you?” A harsh laugh punctuates the taunt, making my cheeks flame.
“I wasn’t lying about Bran,” I say in a rush. “But… The man you’ve seen me with isn’t him. His name is Liam. He’s just a friend.”
He rolls his eyes, hissing in annoyance. “Where have I heard that line before? A friend. Like Mara is your ‘friend,’ right? The one you’ve let try to fuck me left and right? Well, maybe it’s time I finally did.”
In a blur of motion, he surges past me in the direction of the ongoing service.
Eyeing his retreating back, I’ve never felt so damn pathetic. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He stops mid-step, but if I were to hope I’ve convinced him, the glare he aims over his shoulder proves otherwise. “No, you’re not,” he growls. “You’re a liar,Hannah. I’m done being your little fuck boy. You don’t trust me, and I sure as fuck don’t trust you. Oh, and just in case ‘Liam’ doesn’t take your ass in, feel free to stay at my place. I certainly don’t plan on sleeping in my own bed tonight.”
He stalks off, and the pain I feel piercing through my chest shouldn’t come as such a shock. Nonetheless, I have to bite my lip to silence another word. The worst part? I can’t even blame him.
