Page 36 of Where Demons Hide

He takes my hand and squeezes as he looks me in the eye. “You asked for answers. Let me give them to you.”

Why couldn’t he give me those answers at home? Why does it have to be here?

I close my eyes to keep from breaking. I’m not even sure I’m breathing. This place, the memories, are taking up all the air.

“Come with me,” he says, opening his door to get out.

My eyes pop open.He wants me to get out. My legs won’t move. I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but Icannotget out of this SUV. My nerves go rigid. Every muscle is like concrete.

I tighten my grip on his hand, pleading with him not to do this, not to makemedo this.

He brings his other hand to my face. “You have to trust me.”

I do trust him. Callisto is not a spiteful man. There has to be a good reason he would bring me here knowing what I went through. What I don’t trust is myself, my strength.

His hand leaves mine. He climbs out, then meets me on my side and opens my door.

I want to close the door, to tell him I changed my mind, that I don’t want answers anymore. I want to sink into the leather seat all the way back home. The last thing I want to do is face whatever it is he’s asking me to do. And the one thing I need to do is face whatever he’s asking me to.

You can do this. Breathe, Makenna.I force my body to move as he takes my hand again and leads me to the back of the store.

Every one of my senses is alive and buzzing. I notice each crack in the sidewalk, every ridge on the brick wall, feel the sun on every inch of my exposed skin, hear the whir of rubber tires on asphalt with all the cars that pass.

I squeeze his hand back because I need something to hold onto, something to keep me grounded. I need him to be the anchor to keep me from drowning.

We walk around the back of the building, stopping next to a dumpster.

“These aren’t your demons. They’re mine.” His voice is quiet. Reflective.

I don’t understand.

He stands next to the large green, metal container, looking at me, no,through me, into the distance. As if he’s replaying scenes from a movie in his mind. His hand trembles in mine, and it’s the first ounce of anything other than confidence I’ve ever felt come from him. All the color has drained from his face and his eyes are—

His eyes are…

His eyes.

I can’t breathe. My entire universe implodes. My legs feel like they’re going to give out beneath me. My heart falls to my stomach. Tears fill my eyes, and I am incapable of stopping them from falling.

Oh my God.

“It was you,” I whisper.

It all comes rushing back. The pain. The anger. All the emotions I felt in him that night once again scream at me to round them up, rein them in.Help him.

His jaw tightens and his eyes go dark. Not dark with hunger. Dark with pain and rage. Dark like an angry god. “My mother died in this store. It happened the night I saw you. I was visiting home from college, and my father needed help because the night clerk called in sick, so I figured why not. I needed the extra money.”

His words sink in. Emotion breaks through my chest, littering my mind with flashbacks and realization.Carlos owns this liquor store.All those times he reached out after Reid’s death. Him telling me he understands.

His grief recognized my own. The pain in his eyes looked just like mine.

This place stripped me of my heart, ripped open my soul. But not only mine. Theirs too.

My heart breaks for him. For Callisto. For a woman I wish I’d gotten the chance to know.

The agony in his words when he told me about his name, the crippling pain in his eyes at any mention of her—His mother is dead.

I’m starting to regret asking for answers. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning.

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