Page 28 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

“Someone’s got your attention,” Delilah says, always in my business.

“Someone lives to confuse me and keep me guessing.”

Delilah rocks on her heels, her face pensive. “Maggie’s life is nothing like people think. She hides a lot.”

Her veneer in high school. Her placid smiles with her Ivy League boyfriend. The insight is similar to Delilah’s texting when I had that date with Sloan, suggesting Maggie’s life is more complicated than anyone realizes, but I’m still in the dark. “Quit with the vagaries. If you have something to say about Maggie, spit it out.”

“Not my story to tell.”

“Right. You just enjoy tormenting me with cryptic clues.”

“I do.” She picks a blob of beet out of her curly hair, cringing as she flicks it on the ground. “But I will tell you this—whatever went on with you two in high school, I think Maggie was in love with you back then.”

My brain goes on the fritz. “She told you that?”

“Not in so many words. But we were out a few years back, drinking our weight in tequila, and I was nagging her about the latest guy she was dating—a selfish prick who dicked her around. I told her to ditch him, but she said he was nice enough. So I told her she didn’t know from nice, because all the guys she dated were losers or jerks.”

“Wow. If that’s how you talk to your friends, remind not to get on your bad side.”

Delilah rolls her eyes. “I obviously said it nicer than that. But then she said, and I quote, ‘I was in love once, and the guy was nice and sweet and really fucking great, and he still broke my heart. I’ll stick with the jerks and losers.’ ” Delilah’s expression softens. “She said I didn’t know the guy. Claimed he was some art student from her college dorm, but with how she’s acted since you’ve been home, I’m pretty sure she was talking about you.”

My brain’s no longer on the fritz. I can barely swallow. “Because I broke her heart by disappeared into WITSEC?”

“I mean, it makes sense. As far as I know, you’re the only guy from her past she never talked about with me, and her relationships since then have all been short-lived. To this day, Maggie only dates guys if she knows it won’t get serious. And if anything does get serious, she ends it. But there’s more to that pattern than your disappearance. Like I said before, her history is complicated. I think she wants to open up to you about it all. It’s just hard for her. Give her time.”

I blink at the grass, attempting to rearrange more of my Maggie history. For over a decade, I assumed Maggie moved on easily after I disappeared. Maybe missed me a little, but I was the guy she ignored in public. Our final night ended with her running away from me. I was sure I’d hurt the girl I’d loved. But Maggie recently admitted our last erotic night had been the hottest sexual encounter she’d ever had. Now Delilah’s telling me Maggie might have been in love with me too.

Or Delilah’s wrong and Maggie was upset over some other guy.

Either way, my feelings for her aren’t fading. I want to give Maggie time to open up to me. Talk with her more, understand the woman she’s become, the fears that seem to guide her life. The complicated past Delilah keeps hinting at.

Compared to my past, I highly doubt hers is shocking. Maggie had loving parents growing up, a cute little sister. As far as I know, they’re still close. Her father didn’t launder money for a drug cartel and destroy his family, but something’s up with her. And her commitment issues are a red flag. I’m not looking for casual. I’ve had eleven years of meaningless flings, and nothing about Maggie is meaningless to me.

I should quit pushing, let her continue dating losers who don’t make her happy. Save myself from getting hurt. But the thought of walking away from Maggie, not kissing her and teasing out her husky laugh, has my stomach twisting into knots. Regret-itis.

Guess that means I have to make tonight’s meetup at the Barrel House count. Somehow convince Maggie to ditch her boyfriend and share her secrets with me, then hope like hell the choice doesn’t bite me in the ass.

chapter ten

There’s a lot of red at the Barrel House this evening. Red hands. Red arms. Red stains on clothes and faces. Beet juice has seeped into the town, but my favorite shade of red hasn’t appeared at the bar yet. The DJ is playing upbeat country tunes. People mingle as they gossip and laugh about the zombie incident. I hate that the event wasn’t a success for Maggie, but she certainly created buzz. Maybe more so than if it had gone according to plan.

I leave Delilah and E’s circle of friends, sidling up to the bar for another beer.

Jolene has joined her bartenders, nodding to me as she pulls a bottle from the fridge below. “One hipster beer coming right up.”

I lift my middle finger.

Laughing, she slides the beer my way and grabs my money. “Whatever you said to Jake, thanks. He called this week.”

“Just told him you were dying of a rare venereal disease. Probably wanted to pay his last respects.”

“Pest.” She mock scowls. “But yeah, it was great to hear from him. He said he might be moving back with Cal. We’ll hopefully meet up soon.”

I hadn’t heard confirmation of that intel, but I’ll be thrilled if it happens. Having my family split apart doesn’t feel right. “Des and I need help building our ropes course, and I think Des reached out. Seems they have time and probably miss the people here.”

“Not sure about Cal on that last one.” A customer lifts his hand to get Jolene’s attention. She waves him off, staying intent on me. “He still hasn’t called me.”

The same Cal who seemed to hold his breath when we discussed Jolene, then studied his shoes like they held a treasure map. The odd behavior, especially in relation to his former best friend, has my Bower intuition shifting into a higher gear. “Did you and Cal have a fight before we left?”