Page 102 of Never the Same

“It’s sure as hell how it looks, at least. Maybe he even baited the Putcheskis, too. Or was working with them for some reason,” Jason said before Gideon could respond, reaching for my hand. His jaw flexed, and his hand was the steady weight I needed in this storm.

“Tristan didn’t want you to die, he just needed you to forget you found out the truth,” my brother remarked in a low, haunted voice as he stopped by the chalkboard. “He probably convinced you to keep your search from us, selling you on the idea it was to protect us—or he put it in your head it was one of us who had it.”

“And Kylo wasn’t supposed to be with me. Now . . .” I cupped my mouth, the guilt hitting hard again. “Tristan may not have had it in him to kill me, but what about Kylo?”

“He can’t use the drug on Kylo. It wouldn’t work,” Gideon reminded me. “But take his life?” He pocketed his hands. “I don’t know, because as much of a loner as Tristan is, he’s still our brother, and I’m having a hard time believing he did this.” The faint edge of doubt prickled through his tone like static. “I honestly don’t know what to think anymore.”

Jason remained alongside me as the lights flickered, gripping my hand firmly.

“Based on how bad it’s sounding out there, we’re going to have to ride out this storm before we head back to the hotel.” Easton hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to check it out.”

Gideon nodded. “We can’t wait too long. We need to talk to Benjamin later.”

“If he’s holding Kylo for Tristan, so help me if he’s hurt.” I didn’t remember my protector, but he’d sacrificed himself to let me escape, not knowing I’d be walking into a trap anyway, one set by my own flesh and blood.

“I’ll take a look around the house and see if we missed anything, but I’m sure Tristan’s already paid the place a visit. He’d know the manor inside and out, much more than us.” Gideon’s dark eyes slipped from me over to Jason, a silent directive written into his expression: Keep her close.

Once it was just the two of us, he brought our clasped palms to his mouth and pressed his lips to my knuckles. “I’d prefer not to stay here. It’s giving Frankenstein vibes.”

I wasn’t sure which emotion I was feeling, so I split the difference and laugh-cried. “Right there with you.”

I turned off the light behind us and closed the door, feeling as though I was saying goodbye to the past one last time.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Hollis

The storm broke over the house. Rain lashed the shutters, a relentless drumbeat, and the lights continued to flicker, buzzing with each surge.

Jason kept his arm around me, my head on his shoulder as we sat on the floor, our backs to the wall, waiting out the weather. It was just the two of us in there for now, and his presence was heat in itself in the drafty room.

I brought my hand to his chest, hooking my stretched-out leg over his to draw even closer to him. “Well, um, since we’re going to be here a bit longer, and the last thing I want to do is think about my family, any chance you want to talk about—”

“Mine?” Thunder punctuated the word.

“No pressure. We just haven’t . . . you know, since the plane . . .”

He was quiet for a few minutes, and I took that silence as his request to drop it, so I didn’t expect him to begin filling in the blanks about his past.

He revealed heartbreaking stories, one after another. Quick and fast, like he wanted to skip through them to avoid me taking a moment to offer compassion or sympathy.

“I stole something once,” he said, switching gears. “I was thirteen.” Guilt thickened his tone. “I hadn’t eaten in days, and my parents were MIA, and nothing was in the house, and as the clerk was yelling out ‘Stop him,’ I ran right into a cop, smashing the sandwich I hadn’t paid for against his chest. The officer felt sorry for me, paid for it, then took me home and waited until my parents came back. He laid into them both and had CPS check in on me regularly. You’d think they’d have cleaned up their act after that, but they didn’t.”

“I’m just so—”

“Don’t be. Please. And there’s one more thing I should tell you. It’s not exactly the time or place to do this, but if I don’t share this soon, I feel like it’s going to break me.” Pain seared his tone, bleeding into me.

I looked up at him, our mouths close enough for him to pass the truth to me in a whisper. “Tell me, please.”

“And if you hate me for it?” He closed his eyes, resting the back of his skull against the wall.

“I could never. Well, not unless it’s fake hate,” I reminded him. “Also, we’re not going anywhere until this storm weakens, and Gwen and my brother are still working on the source code. So now sounds like a good time to unburden yourself of whatever is bothering you.”

His jaw and neck visibly tensed, but he slowly tilted his head to catch my eyes. “The tattoo.”

“Genesis 2:24,” I remembered.

“‘A man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.’” He set my palm to his rib, and I had to believe he chose that spot for biblical and symbolic reasons as well.