Page 58 of Cold Mercy

Elizabeth slaps her hands onto the counter, frustrated.

“Thomas called me today. Wouldn’t hang up until I promised I’d come check on you.” She narrows her eyes. “Explain.”

So he worries about me even when I’m not there to see it. The realization is a strange, unsettling warmth in my chest.

I sink onto the stool, the fight suddenly draining out of me. Elizabeth immediately takes the one across from me, her expression a mix of concern and expectation, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“Noah was guilty. Everything the police suspected he did, and so much worse.”

She blinks, shaken.

“I found out a few days ago, or weeks. I lost track.”

A look of pure shock and heartbreak washes over her face, and a second later, she's pulling me into a tight hug.

“Sophia, I didn’t… I’m so sorry. I’d never have imagined…”

Maybe she didn't, but James did. And Thomas, and everyone saw it but me.

I pull away from her.

“I don’t want to mourn him anymore. I’ve cried enough tears to fill a pool. Let’s… not talk about it, please.”

Elizabeth wipes her eyes, forcing a smile. Someone has to.

“Good, then get dressed. I'm not leaving you with all this mess.”

“Elizabeth, no. I want to rot in bed, please.”

She crosses her arms again, this time with a different kind of authority.

“No. I'm sorry, Soph, but today my boundaries outrank yours because I am not losing you again.” She takes a breath, her voice softening but firm. “So please, just get dressed. We're going out. No more arguments, okay?”

Maybe she’s right? Possibly I do need something reckless.

We go upstairs, and she digs through my closet like she’s excavating ancient ruins, pulling out the shortest, tightest dress I own. I haven’t worn it in years.

I pull out a similar one.

“If I’m wearing this, so are you.”

With a reluctant groan, she agrees, and the next hours dissolve into a surreal blur of makeup and laughter that feels just like when we were teenagers sneaking out to a forbidden party. By the time we're done, we take her car, her plan being that James will just pick us up later.

Good, one night I won’t think about Noah, or Aurora, or Thomas, who somehow manages to be attached to every thought I have.

We reach the club, and Elizabeth orders double drinks instantly.

Men approach us, but she scares them off with a flash of her engagement ring, which is exactly what she should be doing, because two traitors in the family would be too much.

She leans in, swaying slightly as she grabs my shoulders. “Okay, mission for tonight,” she slurs playfully. “You need to have fun. I'm not saying you have to make out with someone, unless he's hot, then you totally should, but you have to relax. I swear to God, if you don't, I will personally hold you down while the bartender pours tequila down your throat.”

I take a sip of my drink, and the bartender slides another toward me.

“From the gentleman behind you,” he says.

I look over my shoulder to see a tall, blond man with eyes so blue they almost don't look real. He takes the seat beside me with a quiet, steady confidence, not crowding my space or trying too hard, and almost immediately, we fall into an easy rhythm.

His name is Arlyn, he’s a firefighter, and for the first time in a long while something about a man feels… uncomplicated. He doesn’t brag, doesn’t posture, doesn’t try to impress me with danger or violence or stories meant to make him look heroic.