Page 56 of Burned By Sin
“So there’s going to be a next time,” he grins. It takes everything in me to not let my smile slip. Thanks to Rhys’ father, every little notion I give either of the guys about a possible future is like scattering breadcrumbs. What was something we were simply enjoying, coasting by on what felt right at the time, has now become an impending sentence. Both Rhys and Clay have claimed a piece of my heart. To lose one now would sever the connection and cause half of the muscle to wilt away.
Jarring me from what was due to be a long, awkward silence, the front door bangs open, followed by a yell.
“Harper Addams!” Addy screams, stomping through the house like a woman on a mission. I frown, turning on the stool to watch her approach. The stiffness of her spine doesn’t match the playfulness ofher purple dungarees and rainbow embellished high top sneakers. “Where the hell have you been?!”
“Um…here,” I gesture to Rhys’ house as if it’s obvious. It’s not as if she’s not staying in one of the spare rooms upstairs whenever her busy schedule allows it.
“I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour! Have you heard the news yet?” I withhold a joke there, asking if she’s mocking me, since her face is the image of seriousness. It doesn’t sit right beneath her perfectly contoured make-up and artful cat eye.
Rhys, who had been clearing away the plates, steps behind Addy and effectively cages her in. His eyes are narrowed on her back, the tic in his jaw beating. He’s still convinced my roommate had something to do with everything that’s been happening to us. In my heart, I know there’s no way. She was my first real friend and has no reason to want to harm me. Oblivious to his lingering, Addy continues in a flurry of panic.
“The police have made an arrest. They know who started the fire.”
My eyes widen, the room around me falling still. As if I’ve switched off my implants, the sound of rain pelting the window suddenly stops. My eyebrow hitches, as does my breath, while Addy’s nervousness increases.
“But?” I encourage, sensing there is more she wants to say. Addy’s features clench with sympathy as if she’s about to deliver bad news.
“He says he’ll only speak to you.”
My gut drops, nothing but air beneath my feet as I struggle to stay upright on the bar stool. A wave of nausea sweeps over me, a reality I hadn’t dared to hope for starting to fabricate around me. Rhys has gone a paler shade, his nostrils flared and fists clenching at his sides. I don’t want to dig any deeper into Addy’s revelation, hesitant to shatter the comfort I’d found here. With Clay and Rhys both staying under this roof, with my phone shut off from the outside world, it felt safe. It felt like home.
Swallowing thickly, Rhys asks the burning question for me.
“Who is it?”
“You don’t have to do this.” Rhys’ hand clamps down on my thigh in an attempt to keep me in his car. I stare out at the looming building beyond the passenger window, its stone façade streaked dark from the recent rain. A heavy sigh drags through me.
“Yeah, I really do,” I nod. I still can’t quite grasp what Addy told me. I need to see it with my own eyes, and I need answers. It doesn’t make any sense. I should say goodbye to Rhys, but I already know he has no intention of letting me walk into that station alone. Officers drift down the wide steps, their badges catching the damp evening light as a few slow, clocking the Porsche parked amongst their police cars. Visitors parking is over the road, but Rhys doesn’t care for convention.
Exiting, I press my back against the car and steady my breathing. The building is so tall, I have to crane my neck back to see the top of it. The last of a passing downpour sprinkles my cheeks, but that’s not the reason I wrap my arms around myself. Not even my thickest, purple sweater can eradicate the chill seeping bone deep and stemming from fear. Beyond those double doors, held in an interrogation room, is the man they say tried to kill me.
Rhys’ arm wraps around me and I instinctively reach for Clay’s hand, before remembering he didn’t come with us. I have left him several messages, telling him where we’ll be should he go back to the frat house, but something tells me Clay needs some space. I’m used to his to and fro, hot and cold demeanor, but it still hurts.
Before I allow Rhys to talk me out of it, I stride up the stone steps, a female officer holding the door open for us on her way out. I instantly regret wearing my receivers. The lobby buzzes with noise and movement, phones ringing, boots skidding on tile, the faint hiss of a coffeemachine somewhere in the distance. I spot a desk through the bustle and weave toward it.
A sheet of clear Perspex separates me from a hulking man on the other side, his huge shoulders crammed into a navy shirt and the wealth of facial hair covering the bottom half of his face reminding me of a bear. His pen looks tiny in his claw-like hand as he scrawls across forms. I toy with the edge of my cuff nervously, waiting for his attention before muttering the name of the person I’m here to see.
“Take a seat,” he grumbles, pointing to a row of chairs with his pen. I link my fingers with Rhys’ and lead him over. As soon as his butt touches the seat, I cuddle into his side. God, why am I so anxious? I’m finally going to get the answers I wanted. I’m just worried I won’t like what I hear. Usually this is the point I would turn my hearing off and act ignorant, but I doubt that’ll work this time.
Rhys’ fingers draw patterns across my back while we wait, his other hand tapping a rhythm on my thigh. I doubt he realizes how effortlessly he’s comforting me, something that would have been so unnatural to him a few months ago. As it stands, he’s lost to his own thoughts and I spiral back into mine.
We’re ignored for the most part, except for a few curious glances from officers. Granted, with his tattoos and scowl, Rhys looks like he’s on the wrong side of the cells they have here, but there’s so much more to him than the façade he prefers the world to see. My head slumps against his shoulder and I worry the bear-ceptionist has forgotten we’re here until the main door bursts open.
Blond waves and muscled frame fills the doorway, relief crashing through my body and revealing a weight I didn’t know was settled there. Clay spots me, sweeping me up into his arms as if we haven’t seen each other for weeks. We’re worlds away from where we were this morning.
“I’m sorry, Beautiful. Kenneth was freaking out, trashing our dorm. I had to talk him down from the ledge.” Clay sits me back down with a kiss to my forehead. As we sit, Rhys stands, putting distancebetween us that feels like a void. I watch him head over to the main desk, wiping away my frown to focus on Clay.
“Is Kenneth okay?” I ask, thankful for the distraction. I don’t know how much longer I can hold my tears back. I’ve been through an onslaught of emotions and it’s not even lunchtime.
“He will be. Someone at the café swapped his lacto-free milk with full-fat dairy. I had to cream the rashes he couldn’t reach on his back.” Clay shudders and I wind my arm into the crook of his with an understanding nod. There’s no doubt in my mind that someone intentionally messed with Kenneth’s milk. He’s prime bullying material, and I should have been more present. Kenneth was there for me when Clay left, but I haven’t repaid the favor. After I’ve gotten through today, I’ll make more of an effort to hang out with him.
As if by magic, and no doubt a little threatening from Rhys, a door across the lobby swings open and two men in standard slacks and shirts beckon us. After quick introductions, PC Haynes and Detective Steiner lead us toward an elevator. My head sways slightly as we head thirteen floors up and step into a hallway. The air is quieter up here, conversation fading into the distant click of keyboards as we pass rows of glass cubicles. Steiner gestures toward one near the window, dropping into his leather chair. Haynes fetches an extra seat and sets it beside the two already facing the desk.
“Thanks for coming down,” Steiner starts. We take our seats, me in the center. Haynes perches on the edge of the desk, his expression kind. He’s young, possibly late twenties with a light smattering of hair lining his tanned jaw. The complete opposite to his partner, who’s an older gentleman with no hair to speak of and pale skin.
“It’s our understanding you are….um, that you may need an interpreter?” Haynes edges carefully. I give him a wobbly smile, lifting my hair briefly for him to spot my receiver.
“That won’t be necessary. Please, just tell me what you can about the fire? I need to understand why it happened.” I turn to Detective Steiner,figuring he is the lead on the case. The older man links his fingers over his rounded stomach and sighs.
