Page 76 of Heart So Hollow

I bet he’s enjoyed her just as much as I have. The girl’s a freak, he has to know that. But as much as I love thinking about her getting fucked all to hell, I also want to smash his fucking face in. If only she knew what I’ve been through—the hell I’ve been through—to finally find her. She’s everything no one else could be. And, now, I’m never leaving her. She’ll have to shoot me in the fucking face to rid herself of me.

But she won’t. When this is all over, it’ll be my lips she kisses every day, my house she lives in, my bed she sleeps in every night, my name that stays on her tongue, and my babies that grow in her belly. And if I go before her, I’m the one she’ll mourn for the rest of her life.

But if it’s her, she’ll just have to take me with her and we’ll return to the ashes together.

Because now that I’ve found her, I’ll burn this world to the ground before I ever leave her again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Brett

One Year Ago

Peeking out my doorway, I scan the hallway. Muted voices float out of open office doors, but it’s otherwise deserted. It’s a good time to make my getaway. Like a criminal in my own building.

I cringe in disgust at my paranoia, but still scurry down the hallway toward the stairs. It may be idiotic, but I still don’t want to have any unexpected encounters. The arctic blast of air on my face as soon as I push through the glass doors is surprisingly refreshing. It also means I’m a few steps further from the awkward mess that is my job now. As I trudge through the parking lot toward my SUV, I feel my phone ring.

I reach into the pocket of my bag and fish out my Drunk Tank pink phone. Hildy’s name flashes across the screen. Apparently, my contacts transferred properly, after all.

“Hey, where are you?” Hildy’s voice sounds distant, I’m probably on speaker.

“Leaving work. What are you doing?”

“Want to go to Costco?”

“Sure,” I laugh to myself. This is typical Hildy. “Let me text Bowen and see when he’s—” I don’t even finish my sentence before Hildy cuts me off.

“He’s still out with Dad. They’re about 45 minutes out, so they won’t be back for a bit.”

“God,” I scoff, “I should just call you instead of him.”

“I can always find him,” she laughs.

Hildy’s right, after all. Between working together and the twin connection, if anyone knows where Bowen is at any given time, it’s her.

“Shocker,” I roll my eyes, “OK, I need to stop at home to let Waylon out and then I’ll come over.”

As soon as I get into my car and shut the door, I get a text from Bowen.

BOWEN (4:10PM): Hildy said you’re going to Costco so I’ll start dinner when I get home

A second text comes through a few seconds later.

BOWEN (4:10PM): Can you get some of those voodoo mama juju pretzels

I snort as I text my response.

ME (4:11PM): The Zapp’s pretzel sticks? You got it.

BOWEN (4:11PM): Love you

After letting Waylon out and making sure he’s safely back on his bed by the fireplace with his favorite rawhide, I disappear into the bedroom to change into a pair of jeans, a sweater, and boots. I slip off my wedge ankle boots and tuck them against the wall under my clothes hanging on the left side of the closet.

I pause, my eyes wandering along the floor to the space where I found the photo of Bowen and Hannah. I shake my head, still astounded by the audacity that woman has to come in here and leave shit on my closet floor. Then I recall that night—New Years Eve—only a few days ago when I secretly watched the heated exchange between her and Bowen in the parking lot of the bar. He never did mention it, and I never asked about it.

I check the time and head into the bathroom to give myself a once-over. I straighten my sweater in front of the mirror and give my hair a scrunch. For some inexplicable reason, during the winter my lips drain of color as soon as my lip balm absorbs, transforming me into a walking corpse. Digging in my work bag, I find my reliable tube of Black Honey, which immediately turns out to be not so reliable. The metal edge scrapes across my lips, the tube all but empty. Reluctantly, I toss it into the garbage can with a groan, making a mental note to order more as I start digging through my makeup bag for a different tube.

Maple Sun saved me at the wedding, and it’ll save me again for the time being. Except that my fingers come back empty. The black tube with the gold band around the middle is gone. I pause, glance around the vanity, and then dig into the makeup bag a second time. The outcome is the same. When did I start misplacing things and losing everything?

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