Page 73 of Forged in Rain

I move to follow, but Bastion pushes back his chair and stands with a weary sigh. He glowers in my direction, and I turn to Jig with a frown as he exits.

Jig looks at me with his intense blue eyes, and I curl into myself at the stare. “What?”

“What’s eating at Cyn?”

“Rand?”

He raises a questioning brow, and I sigh because I don’t want to share this with Jig. It’s personal, private, between Cyn and me. Not to mention humiliating. Maybe I am naive but knowing Cyn might even now be concocting ways to drop me is definitely a morale killer.

“Why is his dad such bad news?” I ask, hoping to turn the conversation.

Jig turns his head away, and I battle frustration. “What? What is it?”

With a shrug, Jig returns his gaze to mine, and I blink at the emotion staring back at me. “He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t care about Cyn or Veah, but he uses them.”

“And Cyn performs because of Veah,” I say, rubbing my sternum. He nods, his eyes distant as he looks at something I can’t see, but I want to because I need to understand Cyn.

I can’t breathe without him, and I’m scared he’ll slip away. Maybe if I can understand, I can convince him to stay—what a load of pathetic bullshit.

“Anyway, there’s is a long, violent relationship. Seeing his dad messes him up. He’s probably just grumpy.” Jig smiles, but it’s missing the twinkle I’ve come to need.

He walks away, leaving me alone in the damn kitchen, and I stare after him until the ringing of my phone pulls me from my thoughts.

It’s from an unknown number on the phone Iris gave to me. I don’t want to speak to anyone I don’t know, but I can’t miss a call if my dad decides to reach out. I need answers, and I need his help, and this is the only place he’ll call unless he calls the house.

Thoughts that do not comfort me. What will Pam tell him? Why hasn’t she reached out to me about not coming home? Because she knows the pretense is up?

Not knowing has me on edge, and with a deep breath, I answer the call tentatively. “Hello?”

“Rain?”

“Yeah?” I don’t recognize the voice and glancing at the door where all of my backup just disappeared, I clench my fist on the table.

“Good. This is Hate. Do not tell Cyn I called. Do you understand?” His tone brooks no argument.

“But—”

“No buts. This is fucked-up shit, and the less involved he is, the better. He clearly can’t think without his dick anyway,” he grumbles.

“What do you want?” I ask frigidly. He may scare the shit out of me, but I’m tired of his attitude.

“Meet me at the warehouse in two hours.”

“What? Why?”

“Just be there,” he growls.

“I don’t have a vehicle. I can’t just go without people knowing.”

“Fuck. Fine. I’ll arrange it.”

With that, he hangs up on me, and I stare at the phone with a frown. Did Cyn give him the number for this phone?

Chapter Fourteen

Miraculously, two hours later, I’m sitting in the SUV with Jig staring at the warehouse. Jig came back through and informed me he had to run an errand, asking if I wanted to come along. Grudgingly, I accepted, with fear’s icy touch tingling down my spine. This couldn’t be a coincidence, so I followed him out to the car like an inmate on death row.

“Wait here,” he says, exiting the vehicle.

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