Page 79 of Daring You

“After,” I say on a growl. “I meant after.”

“Lots of people wanting to conversate with me today,” I think I hear her mutter as she plops down on her cushions. “But at least you’re man enough to come do it yourself.”

“What’d you say?”

She looks down her nose at me while sitting. If anyone can achieve this, it’s Astor. “You sent Carter to butter me up so you could come in while I’m all weakened and emotional.”

“First off,” I say as I come meet her, “You’re not either of those things. You’re fuckin’ drunk.”

“Better than choosing door number one or two,” she sings.

“Second,” I enunciate, “I didn’t send Carter to you. Locke did. But I figured you’d want family around you instead of me, and I see I was right. You and Carter had some fun, looks like.”

“She helped me forget a few things,” Astor admits. “Her and that spunky blonde friend of hers.”

“Then I guess I’m here to help you remember.”

I sit a careful amount of space away, lest Astor swipe at me.

“I don’t want to think about any of it,” she says. “You told me, and now I have this secret. And in order to keep it, we have to stop talking about it.”

“You deserve a better explanation than what I gave you.”

Unexpectedly, her eyes go misty. “I don’t want to put you in danger, Ben. And I’m so afraid I’m going to.”

“You’re not,” I say on an exhale, and shift closer. I lay a hand on her arm. “I never wanted to put this kind of burden on you. Please believe that.”

“I don’t know…” Astor trails off, looks away. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act now. You went through something horrific, and I’m part of a team that’s representing who’s responsible. You broke my heart in college, and I hate you for it. But now I feel guilty for hating you, because of what you went through—”

“Don’t,” I say sharply. “Don’t you dare pity me.”

“But—”

“No. I’m Ben. I’m the guy who humiliated you as a sophomore, who ditched you for years after that yet stayed in your life by becoming buddies with your brother. I’m that guy. Not a little boy who experienced trauma over twenty years ago.”

The facts taste like vinegar, but I need to get Astor back to who she used to be. The woman who would as soon spit at me as throw me off a building—the passionate, argumentative, confident chick who doesn’t let the victims of her cases get to her.

I don’t want to get to her. Not like this.

“But you’re both,” she says. “And I can’t reconcile the two.”

I let out a frustrated rumble. “That boy—Ryan, me, who the fuck ever—I can’t come up with anything. Memories. Killers’ identities. None of it. All I have are…are shades of what went on. My mom’s face…I can’t even fully remember what she looks like. My dad is nothing but a talking shadow. And I had to go into WITSEC for this—for knowing nothing, because these guys would kill me anyway. Do you know how much that pisses me off? Truly?”

Astor nods sagely.

“Except if I didn’t, if some…distant relative adopted me or something, I wouldn’t have my parents now. I would’ve never met Locke and the rest of my crew. I would’ve…fuck, I don’t know what life I’d be leading, but it can’t be as good as this. I love who I am. My career. My people.”

“If you’re worried I’m going to take that away, I won’t,” Astor says, and she gains strength as she talks. “I may not like you, but I’d never go so low as to disrupt your life.”

“Astor, what happened in college…”

“We’re not talking about that,” she says, then steers the topic back. “Your parents, your real ones, did you ever look them up? Want to remember them?”

I shake my head and look to my hands, fisted and curled between my thighs. “No. I wasn’t allowed to. No internet history allowed. And after a while, I guess I stopped wanting to.”

Astor rises from her curl on the couch, and pads over to a small table near the window, opening up her laptop. “Do you want to see them?”

“I…” My posture straightens as I take this in. “I don’t know.”

---