Page 136 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
“Are you okay? You don’t look so good,” she says, searching my face.
Am I that transparent? I school my features, settling them into impassivity.
“Don’t do that. Tell me what’s bugging you instead of shutting me out.”
“You might want to sit down first.” Although she ended up not liking Sam much, the news of his death is going to be a blow. She’s known him for so long, and he did take care of her earlier, when she was just out of her coma and vulnerable.
She perches on a stool, her eyes not leaving my face. “What is it, Tony?”
I place my hands on her shoulders. There’s no gentle way to put it. “Sam’s dead.”
Her eyelashes flutter, and she opens and closes her mouth. Finally, she shakes her head. “What? That… There must be a mistake. Some kind of mix-up.”
“I’m sorry, Iris. He died in a car accident last night.”
She presses trembling fingers over her mouth. “Oh my God. Why didn’t anybody call…” She stops. “I have him and Marty blocked. Oh no.”
“Listen to me,” I say, tightening my hands on her. She needs to focus. This is too fucking important. “It was a hit-and-run. The cops are looking for who did it. And Bobbi’s moving in with us.”
“But why?”
“To be on the safe side.” I can’t quite meet her gaze, so I go grab two mugs of coffee. “She’s going to keep an eye on you.” I thrust a coffee at her.
She doesn’t take it. “What are you not telling me?”
Even if I want to, I can’t tell her about the killers and the crazy kind of danger she’s in. She would worry endlessly, and I don’t want to see that anxiety and fear in her eyes. “The funeral’s next week.”
“Tony. I’m going to ask again. What are you not telling me? Why does Bobbi need to move in with us?”
I’ll tell her the only truth I can. “Just trust me, Iris—”
“I’m your fiancée, not your kid! You can’t make decisions without any explanation and expect me to be okay.”
Beyond the angry façade, I glimpse a hint of fear. Sometimes not knowing is worse. It twists and morphs into a monster that makes you scream in your sleep and look over your shoulder during your waking moments.
“Sam had enemies,” I say, choosing my words with care. “I think whoever killed him last night could’ve been one of them. I don’t want them to come after you because of your relationship to him. That’s why.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t want to make you afraid.” I can’t let you know the full truth. Not yet. I’m not ready. I’m probably never going to be ready.
She finally takes the coffee from my hand. “I’ll be careful. And I promise I’ll be a model client for Bobbi.”
That should reassure me. But somehow it doesn’t. Nothing will put my mind at ease until whoever’s responsible is put away forever.
