Lawson’s expression gentled. “No one here would believe the nonsense some of those conspiracy theorists spout.”
I pressed my palms against the sides of the mug, trying to let the heat ward off the dark memories that wanted to break through. “You don’t know what it was like,” I whispered. “People were awful. Some just stared with pity, but others were cruel. Someone dumped an entire iced coffee over my head. Another person who came into my office for a meeting started screaming at me that I was a liar and a whore.” And everyone had known where to find me, thanks to Oren Randal.
I stared down at the swirling liquid as those memories pressed—memories of how things had gotten so much worse.
A hand landed lightly above my knee and squeezed. My gaze flew to Roan’s, but he didn’t move.
“We’re not going to let that happen to you here,” he vowed.
“You can’t stop it. No one can. Not if everyone knows the truth.”
Lawson blew out a breath. “Okay. I’ll tell my people those two were hassling you at The Brew and I want to keep an eye out. That’s the truth, just not all of it.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you.”
Roan gave my thigh one more squeeze and then released me. I missed his heat the second it was gone. I wanted to beg him to bring it back. Needed the steady pressure that seemed to somehow ground me amidst my swirling thoughts.
“We need to figure out how they found you,” Lawson said.
I nodded, my gaze dropping to my darkening tea.
“Has anyone else found you here?” Lawson asked.
My blood ran cold, my muscles winding tight. “I got a letter.”
The air around me went electric.
“What kind of letter?” Roan growled.
“Not the warm and fuzzy kind,” I said.
“Was it signed?” Lawson asked.
I shook my head. “No. But I know who sent it.”
“Who?” Roan demanded.
“John. The man who killed my sister.”
21
ROAN
Rage pulsed through me, punctuated by an icy, stabbing fear. Neither was an emotion I welcomed. Hell, I didn’t welcome feelings of any sort. Nothing extreme. I lived for the slow and steady, the calm.
Right now, I was anything but those things.
“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” I snarled.
Aspen reared back, and I knew I should’ve taken more time to reel in my emotions.
“Dial it back a notch,” Lawson warned.
“This is something we needed to know,” I gritted out.
Lawson released his hold on his mug. “When did you receive the letter?”
“A couple of days ago at my PO box.”
My jaw clenched. “Which means he knows where you are.”
Aspen’s hands trembled as she set her tea down. “He’s in prison. It’s not like he can show up here. If he planned to expose me, he would’ve done it already. He wouldn’t have given me a warning.”
She let out a shaky breath. “John has always gotten a thrill out of letting me know his reach is long. He sent me flowers at my work. Chocolates I’m allergic to at home. He wants me scared, however he can manage it.”
“How do you know the letter was from him?” Lawson asked.
I was envious of my brother in that moment. How easy it was for him to keep his cool. To remain measured, thoughtful, and calm.
“I know his handwriting,” Aspen explained. “Christmas cards, paperwork, crossword puzzles.”
Because the devil had been someone living inside her family, not some stranger attacking from the outside.
“Do you still have the letter?” Lawson asked.
Aspen nodded.
“I’d like to take a look.”
She pushed her chair back and stood. I didn’t miss the shakiness in her limbs. That only made me want to gut the man more. Rip him limb from limb. I felt a desperate, clawing need to know that Aspen was safe and he couldn’t torment her anymore.
“Can you handle this?” Lawson asked, voice low.
My gaze jerked away from the hall and toward him. “Of course, I can.”
“You sure as hell aren’t acting like it.”
My back teeth ground together. “She should’ve said something.”
“Maybe. But you don’t need to bite her head off because of it.”
I gripped the table, the worn edge biting into my palms. “I know.”
Lawson sighed. “Take a walk if you need it. There’s no shame in having to pull it together.”
I glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Fine, but you need to wipe that look off your face.”
“What look?”
Lawson picked up his mug of tea. “The one that says you’re about to go on a murder spree, taking out anyone who looks at Aspen wrong.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and then forced a smile. “How’s this?”
Lawson blinked a few times as he stared at me. “You look like a feral clown or something. Pretty sure that’s going to give me nightmares.”
I socked him in the arm.
“Hey, don’t hate on me because I told you the truth.”
Footsteps sounded on the hardwood, and I tried to find that mask again. The one that allowed me to keep everything I was feeling on the inside.
Aspen slid an envelope in front of Lawson. “Here.”
He pushed back from the table. “I want to grab gloves and an evidence bag really quick.”
Aspen winced. “I didn’t even think about the fingerprints thing.”
Lawson squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay. You didn’t know what was inside.”
He headed through the living room and out the front door, leaving Aspen and me in silence.
She wound her way around the table and slid into her chair again, not saying a word.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
She looked up, studying me for a moment. “I like you better when you’re not hiding.”
I blinked. “What?”
Aspen drew a circle in the air that encompassed my face. “I like authenticity better than fake politeness.”
I swallowed hard. “I scared you.”
She shrugged. “You startled me. There’s a difference. You were angry. Because you care. I like that better.”
I moved on instinct, covering her hand with mine and gripping it tightly. “I was fucking furious. Almost decked Law when he told me what happened at The Brew. Want to kill that waste of space in prison and do it slow. There’s so much anger in me it nearly burns me alive. And it’s always been safer if I keep a lid on it.”
Aspen’s green eyes stayed locked with mine as I spoke. She didn’t waver, didn’t look away, not even for a second. “You have to let it out. If you don’t, it’ll eat you alive.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d been letting it devour me for so long I was used to living in the agony. “I don’t trust myself to do that.”
“Because people already look at you like they should be scared,” Aspen surmised.
No one had ever guessed that or understood it. “Some part of me wonders if they were right to be afraid.”
Aspen flipped her hand over, lacing her fingers through mine and squeezing the blood out of my palm. “They couldn’t be more wrong. You’re a good man, Roan. Maybe the best I’ve ever known. You hide that gentle goodness beneath mountains of armor. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”