“I think you’re wonderful.”
The words surprise me and my heart twists hard. Griff often says things like that, and, every time, they make me melty. Sometimes I wish they didn’t. I’m not sure what to do with the girl he turns me into.
Then Griff smiles that smile I crave and I lean into him, pressing my lips against the corner of his and scooping handfuls of his polo shirt. It’s so soft and thin I can feel his heart’s bird-wing beat. Griff goes rigid, but his hands ease around me. Ever since Todd, we’re so careful—and even as careful as we are, when his hands push up my rib cage, I flinch.
“Wick?”
“Sorry. I’m . . . sorry . . . just . . . it was a bad night. I’m sorry.”
He pulls back, disappointed. I am too. Then again, I’m also relieved . . . which is disappointing . . . and disconcerting. How can I be afraid to be with him?
And even more afraid to be without him? Once upon a time, I wasn’t afraid to be without anyone. I only needed Lily. Now . . . Carson’s right. I have too much that can be taken away.
Griff closes my hand in both of his. “It’ll get better. You’re still recovering.”
Recovering. Like I’m broken, and I’m not. I look away, eyes falling on my computer.
See what they did to her?
It’s something Griff and I would agree on.
“It gets worse actually.” I untangle myself from him, swiping the DVD case from my desk. “I need to show you something.”
I hand it to Griff and his mouth twists. “Isn’t that your mom’s name?”
“Yeah. I was waiting to give my statement to Carson. This cop gave it to me. He even wrapped it like some sort of messed-up birthday present. There’re a ton of interviews.”
“What would the police want with your mom?”
“I think she was informing on my dad.”
“Willingly?”
“Don’t know. I watched all the files, and from what I saw, she didn’t seem super thrilled about it and there’s a message at the end of the first interview. It says ‘See what they did to her?’”
Something shifts in . . . out . . . of Griff’s features. “What?”
“Something’s wrong here.” His green eyes go dark. “One of the cops just gave you the DVD? Which cop? Why?”
“Never met him before. His name was Hart.”
“Hart? That doesn’t sound familiar.” Like me, Griff helps the police from time to time. Unlike me, he actually wants to be there. His cousin works in narcotics, and thanks to Griff’s help, they brought down my dad, catching him with so much evidence he won’t see the light of day for years. Griff testified that I had nothing to do with any of it.
It’s a lie Carson still doesn’t believe.
“Are you sure he was a cop?”
I shrug. “I did a quick internet search and didn’t find anything, but he had the right uniform. I guess that could be stolen or bought. It was a costume party.” The more I think about it, the more my brain clings to how his shoes looked next to mine. They were shiny black loafers, not government-issued black boots.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Griff continues. “Why would he give you something like this? Why would someone put a message at the end?”
“No idea.” That should bother me more than it does, but right now, all I can think about is my mom. All those years we stayed. . . . I thought it was because she was too afraid to leave. I hated her for it. What if she had no choice?
“It doesn’t change the fact that she was working for the police,” I say.
“The same way you are?”
I go still, feel the question fall through me until it hits bone. I thought he didn’t know.
“Tell me you aren’t working for him, Wick.”
I focus on the white zombie makeup slicked on top of my hands. The more I rub to get it off, the worse it smears. “How did you find out?”
“Rumor. Carson’s closing cases left and right. He’s the department’s biggest rising star, making connections no one else has ever thought of. It’s like he’s psychic . . . or he has a really good hacker.”
I nod, take a deep breath. “I’ve been doing odds jobs for him for a few months now.”
“Jesus, Wick. Why?” Griff’s pissed, edging away from me, and I follow . . . stop. In the space between us, the words I need seem to come more easily.
“He knows I was involved in my dad’s stuff and with Todd. He says he’ll dig into me and he could find enough to put me away too.”
“By agreeing to work for him you’re practically admitting guilt!” Griff pushes ink-stained hands through his dark hair. “He’ll just use you and arrest you later!”