Page 59 of Never Forget

“Simon is the home health nurse?” Cory clarifies.

“Yeah, he moved in just a couple of hours before you called. I gave him a rundown of the basics so he could make an informed decision about staying, and he had an interesting theory as well.”

Naz tells us about his conversation with Simon. If he’s right, it changes the game as well as our plan for catching this person.

“This all makes sense to me,” I say, still not looking Naz directly in the eyes. “Their texts have kind of been all over the place. It’s one reason I didn’t think they were connected to the actual attack, but if you put them together and consider that the physical threats were meant to scare and not actually harm anyone…”

“We’re not working with a criminal mastermind here,” Cory finishes for me. “They’re grasping at straws.”

“In that case, we should be able to create a diversion, right?”

“How do you mean?”

“Send us all to New York to meet with legal and the investigators,” Naz says.

“I don’t think putting you all in the public eye is a good move right now,” Cory starts.

“The rest of the guys won’t actually be there. The trip is just a decoy,” Naz explains. “File the itineraries into the system so they think we’re all going. Scott and I will actually go to keep up appearances in case we’re followed at any point. We normally stay at Will and Ari’s condo, and the label owns the only other flat on that floor, so the security team has somewhere to stay. Which means if anything bad happens, there are unlikely to be innocent bystanders.”

“And then what?” I ask, finally looking up to meet his gaze.

“We hope they make a move and are stupid enough to get caught.”

His expression is flat, devoid of emotion. His dark eyes are locked on mine, but it’s like there are shutters up, blocking me from seeing the real person beneath the hard exterior. It’s hard not to wince after I spent so long getting under his shell, getting to know the sweet softness inside him.

Cory’s voice breaks through the tense silence. “I can work with that, and I’ll meet you there, too. Scott, when you get here, I’ll need you to turn over the phone. It’ll be easier for us to see if we can trace anything.”

“But—”

“Just temporarily,” Cory assures me. “I’ll need to meet with Blake about this, anyway. So I’ll try to get the phone back to you once we make a final decision about what to do with you.”

What to do with me.

Scott: What do you want from me?

My ears pop as the small jet begins its descent, the change in cabin pressure settling inside my head like a constant buzz. I swallow against it, wishing it was as easy to clear the uncomfortable pressure from my chest. The loud mechanical whirring of the landing gear and the initial thud of the wheels touching down do nothing to break the oppressive silence that’s filled the cabin for the last hour and forty minutes.

Naz has barely said a word to me since we got off the phone with Cory, and even then he wasn’t truly speaking to me. It was more like he was speaking at or around me while we came up with a plan for New York.

I had a few minutes of hope that Naz would be able to overlook my stupidity, or that his ability to compartmentalize would allow him to process and maybe even rationalize my reasons for hiding the messages from him. But it’s looking more and more like that’s not going to happen.

Maybe he’s just upset and not wanting to talk. Maybe he’s worrying over not being there to help his grandparents settle in, and having the whole band move in. Maybe he just needs time.

Or maybe he’s done with me.

I wouldn’t be surprised. He probably blames me for Jesse and Luc getting hurt. I blame me.

Understanding doesn’t make the likelihood that this is over any easier. The thought of him leaving me sits in my gut like a boulder, weighing me down and making me feel sluggish.

None of that changes what I need to do, either.

My eyes wander, not for the first time, across the aisle to where Naz is sitting, his face and body turned to the small window. The shade is down, so he’s just been staring at plastic this entire time, a blank-faced mask settled over his gorgeous features.

I’d almost rather him look at me with anger or disappointment. At least it would be something.

The captain’s voice crackles as he makes an announcement over the speakers, welcoming us to LaGuardia and relaying the local time and weather. It’s raining, and a heavier downpour is expected the next hour. It suits my mood, to be sure. More importantly, though, it works to our advantage for the plan.

The plane comes to a stop at the private terminal, our flight attendant emerging from the back of the plane to open the door and secure the stairs. She offers us a friendly smile and reminds us to watch our step as the stairs are wet.