He glanced around him before returning to look at Andrea. The red had begun to creep up to his face again, and he lifted a hand, itching the backside of his neck. “Andrea, I…okay. I guess.”
Carter went to the office and opened the door. I started to follow Andrea inside, but he held me back. “One minute, please,” he said to her as he shut the door.
She frowned at him, but didn’t respond.
“What?” I glanced over my shoulder. We were out of hearing distance from her friend. “What is it?”
“Stay
within eyesight of me.”
“What?”
“I don’t trust you alone with her either. The door can’t be locked, and I’m right here on the other side. If you start getting a weird feeling, scratch behind your ear. I’ll come in.”
“You think, what? She’s going to attack me or something?’
“I don’t know.” He was insistent. “But I’m not willing to risk it. The Bartels killed AJ. I don’t put anything past them.”
“Oh.” I tensed immediately. “But her…”
“Emma,” he said quietly. His hand still held my arm, but he softened his hold and his thumb began rubbing back and forth. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Okay. Yeah.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I will.”
I started to step back, but he caught the back of my head and pressed me to him again. One more kiss. One solid touch from him to me. This wasn’t about passion. It wasn’t even about comfort. This was a connection between us. I felt his need for me, and my own matched it, rising within me. It wasn’t sexual. It was primal. It was the need for both of us to be okay. My lips pressed back against him, tasting him, and then I leaned away, gazing up into his eyes.
I saw a bleakness there and my hand lifted, reacting to it. I hated seeing that. He shouldn’t feel that way, ever. I touched the side of his face to reassure him.
He nodded, but the bleakness didn’t leave.
I stepped inside to talk to my sister.
It was just her and me.
With the door closed, it felt like the outside world had been cut off. The room filled with questions, but one thing rose to the top. “Our mother?” I asked.
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
I swallowed. “I mean, how is she?” Is she alive? Is she well? Does she know about me? So many more questions waited on the edge of my tongue, wanting to spill out. I gripped my arm and held tight, physically holding myself back.
“I—” She stopped. Her chest heaved up and down in a dramatic breath. “She’s…” She looked down for a second. “Dead. A car accident.”
I stepped back. I hadn’t expected that.
“She died when I was little,” Andrea continued. “I don’t remember a lot of it.” Her voice was strangled, and she dabbed at the corner of her eye again. “I was adopted when I was five—”
“You’re two years younger than me.” I would’ve been seven. I glanced at Carter. I didn’t meet him until I was eleven. That didn’t make sense.
“I remember you.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “I remember playing together. I liked to play with dolls. You hated dolls.”
“I did?” The side of my mouth lifted up.
“I think we played hide and seek in the house. You don’t remember?”