“You know,” he finally says. “I met Nessa a few times, when she’d go out on that ridiculous yacht with Oscar.”
Nausea surges through my stomach and into my throat at the thought of that stupid boat. I went on it one time and ended up having a panic attack from being on the water, so I never went again. Maybe if I had, then she’d still be here.
“She had a way about her, didn’t she?” He grins. “Every guy was half in love with her back then. Hell, most the girls were too.”
He chuckles, but I can’t find the humor as he reminds me of how much darker the world is without her in it.
“Your father—”
“I don’t want to talk about him here.” I bite the inside of my lip so hard I taste the hint of copper.
He nods, sucking in another drag of his cigarette and lying back until he’s completely flat on the ground. “Well, this is important, and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to say it again, so just…”
Everything in me wants to tell him to shut the fuck up and leave. I want to snap my teeth and yell, how dare he bring him up. Him—the man who can’t be bothered to even show up. He doesn’t deserve to be acknowledged. Not here.
But it’s Zeke, and he… well, he’s one of the only people in my life who doesn’t treat me like I’m different. Less than. So instead, I lie back with him, my head pressing against the hard ground, the smell of flowers left by other mourning souls assaulting my senses.
“Your father’s been good to me, and he’s good as hell at what he does,” he tries again. “But a man can be successful and still fail where it matters.”
My chest squeezes tight.
“I watch you, Evie, you know? You and that bleedin’ heart.” He turns his face to stare at me. “Your dad loves you… and he loves her too.” He points toward Nessa’s headstone. “He just doesn’t know how to show it.”
My nose burns and I shove my tongue to the roof of my mouth, trying to stem the ache that’s sprouting with every word he says.
Sounds nice, but it’s all bullshit at the end of the day. Zeke can pretend he knows our family dynamic as much as he likes, but it doesn’t change how it feels. I watch him from my peripheral, instead of meeting his gaze. “As much as I love the sentimental bonding, can we be done?”
He chuckles, ash from his cigarette falling on top of his scarred-up knuckles. “I’m sorry you lost your sister, Evie. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”
I swallow. “It was a long time ago.”
Now I do turn to face him, taking in the way his eyes are half-lidded, his mane of hair tamed in a bun. “Do you think about your dad at all, Zeke?”
His features morph into something heavier. “All the time.”
“Did you love him?”
“Thought we were done with the sentimental shit,” he grunts.
I lift a shoulder. “Changed my mind.”
He brings the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling before blowing out another ring of smoke. “He was a prick.”
“So, no?”
“Yeah, I loved him.” He sighs. “I’d do anything not to end up like him, though.”
“Well…” I pause, placing my hands on top of my stomach. “I’d do anything to be even a little bit like Nessa.”
“That’s a shame.” He sits up then, looking down on me. “If you were like her, then there wouldn’t be a you.”
I suck in a breath from his words, tendrils of despair breaking through the ground and wrapping around my chest, squeezing until my heart feels like it might explode from the constraint.
Zeke stands, dusting off his pants. “See ya around, Evie.”
He walks away then, and I stay lying on the ground, basking in the silence.
But for the first time in years, the solitude feels a little less like comfort and a little more empty.
15
NICHOLAS
The motel on the outskirts of Kinland is a shithole, but it’s the most inconspicuous place for Seth to set up shop without me having to travel two hours out of town.
The only source of light in the dark parking lot is from a flickering streetlight and the dim yellow bulbs illuminating the walkways. Parking my car, I glance around to make sure no one else is here before getting out and making my way to the last door on the left, knocking twice.
There’s a faint smell of garbage from the large dumpster a few feet away that makes my nose scrunch, and an owl hoots from a tree in the distance. Other than that, and the steady hum of cars on the street, there’s silence, but it doesn’t stop my stomach from flipping as I whip my gaze behind me one more time, just to make sure I haven’t been followed.
The door creaks open, Seth’s tired and worn face greeting me. He’s a welcome sight and he steps to the side for me to enter before closing the door again behind me. The room itself is nothing special, a full bed in the center, a small dark-maroon couch on the other, and tables set up throughout with computer monitors and recording equipment; enough to let me know that he hasn’t been doing surveillance here alone.
There’s empty coffee cups strewn across the countertops, and white to-go containers filing the room with the smell of Chinese takeout.
While I’ve been spying, they’ve been receiving.
“Anyone else here?” I ask, looking around before moving to the couch and sitting down.
Seth shakes his head, running a hand over his beard, but he doesn’t speak, and his stature catches me off guard, sending anxiety prickling through my insides. I brush it off, figuring he’s just tired, the same way I am.
“There’s a drop happening tomorrow night.”
Seth grabs his mug off the end of the table and moves to sit on the other side of the couch, quirking a brow. “Of what?”
I shrug. “No clue. They didn’t say what it was, just that we should be there to pick it up.”
He nods, taking a sip from his cup. “You didn’t think to ask?”
His tone is accusing, and it soars across the small space between us and hits me in the center of my chest. My hackles rise. “I’m not really in a position to ask a lot of questions, Seth. I may be in, but I’m still a fucking nobody, you know? Questions get people killed.”
He bobs his head again, his eyes searing into mine. “Sure.”
Irritation lights up my insides. “Everything okay?”
“You tell me.” He lifts a shoulder.
I throw my hands up. “Okay, well, I don’t have time for this. If you listen to the audio from yesterday, you’ll hear about the drop for yourself.”
Slapping my hands on my knees, I start to stand, but pause when he speaks again.
“Oh, I heard the audio. Too bad it’s gone now.”
The breath whooshes from my lungs. “What the fuck do you mean, it’s gone?”
Chuckling, he places his mug down on the coffee table, jabbing two fingers into his temple. “Think for a second, Nick. What could possibly have happened that made me feel like it was necessary to ‘lose’ evidence?”
“I told you not to call me that,” I snap.
Immediately after saying it, a pang hits my chest, realizing how much I sound like Eveline.