Page 76 of The Villains We Make

Hearing it is harder than I’d think and I’m glad he can’t see my face. Behind me, I hear him drop the keys on the table by the door.

“I never said I wanted to go, did I?” I ask. He sets the duffel down and follows me into the kitchen, where I put my purse on the counter and slip off my coat. I drape it over the back of a stool at the bar.

“You’re giving me fucking whiplash, you know that?” he asks.

“Did you hear me say once that I wanted to go?” I snap, not masking the annoyance I feel as I spin to face him. He’s closer than I expect.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “It was implied,” he says and doesn’t move or give me an inch of space.

“I said his funeral is later this week. I didn’t say I’d go. I haven’t decided if I’ll go. But afterwards, I do plan on traveling to Texas. I can understand if that’s where my grandfather wants to be, and I do want to get to know him at least a little while I can.”

“Yeah, see that’s another thing.”

I throw my arms up in the air. “You’re unbelievable.” I try to take a step away, but he sets his hands on either side of me on the counter and cages me in.

“You’re taking things very lightly. There’s been a murder, Ophelia.”

“I know, Silas. And I’m not taking things lightly, but I can’t just be afraid all my life. Can’t let everyone else make all the decisions and do the living for me.”

“I’m not. Christ. Until I know Chandler is no longer a threat, until I know who killed Sullivan Fox and am sure they’re not a threat, you are staying right here where I can keep an eye on you. I don’t care if you like it or not. You will stay put!”

“I don’t like your ultimatums.” I try to shove him, but he tugs me closer.

“I won’t take any chances, not with you, and if you’re going to be pissed at me for it, then so be it.”

My cell phone buzzes in my purse and he cocks his head.

“Was it Ethan texting and calling you earlier?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Was it him?” The phone goes off again. Shit. I wish it would stop because I’m pretty sure it’s Ethan. Who else would it be? “How the fuck does he know the number, O?”

I’m still using the phone Silas gave me because when Ethan gave me mine back, it was out of charge and with all that’s going on, I just haven’t even thought about it. Reaching over me, he digs in my purse for it and unlocks it. I never changed his code.

“Please come. I need you?” He reads the text aloud and looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Did you give him this number?”

“No, I?—”

“You said I could call you?” he reads. “For fuck’s sake!”

“I just said that?—”

The phone buzzes again and I try to take it from him, but he holds onto it, unlocking it to read this new message.

His expression goes dark at what he sees, and I try to snatch the phone away, but he keeps it out of reach, turning it so I can see.

It’s a photo of Ethan and I from I don’t even know how long ago. We’re in bed and much like now, I’m trying to get the phone away from Ethan as he snaps our picture. I hate selfies. I always look horrible.

“Found these in your apartment. Remember us like that? When you were mine?” he reads aloud. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he says and is about to walk away when I grab hold of him because I think he might just do it.

“Silas, they’re old pictures. Years old!”

“Are there more? Are there others?”

I shake my head, but Ethan must send another text. He doesn’t read it to me, though. “You’re mine. Not his,” he says and walks me backward to the wall.

I reach up to cup his face. “I’m yours. Just yours.” He looks down at what Ethan sent and this time, what he sees has his face going red.

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