Page 61 of Ruthless Intent

“We thought you’d be happy.”

“I’m not in love with him. I’ve never claimed to be in love with him.”

“Three years, Ashley. You don’t stick in a relationship for that long if you don’t have feelings.”

She’s right … that would be the case for most people. Apparently, I’m not most people.

“Maybe I just didn’t realize it until he brought up the idea of getting married. But I don’t love him, Jessa. And I don’t want to marry him.”

“Is that the real reason you’re hiding out back in your hometown?”

It would be the perfect excuse, but I want to keep the lies to a minimum. “No. No, I really have met someone.”

“Who? And what does he think?”

“He … he wants to explore where things might go between us as well. We had dinner last night, and breakfast this morning. He’s picking me up again in a couple of hours and we’re spending the evening together.”

“How did you meet him?”

“He was at the cemetery when I went to visit Jason, and we struck up a conversation. He’d … he’d lost someone close to him as well.”

“And what’s the name of this mystery man who’s scrambled your brains?”

“No one you know.” That isn’t a lie. She’s never met Zain, just heard about him on the news. “I’m not ready to talk about him yet.”

“I don’t like this. You’re acting so out of character.”

“I promise, I’m fine.”

“Maybe we should come and visit.”

“No!” I almost yell the word. “No,” I repeat. “I’ll come and visit in a couple of weeks. I … I’ll bring him with me to meet you.”

“You swear?”

“Yes.” Hopefully, Zain will understand why I have to do it. It’ll be necessary to fit in with the story he’s trying to present. Surely, he’ll agree to meeting my friends.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ZAIN

“You’re spending the evening with her again?” Mom hands me a cup of coffee.

I stare down at it. I lost the taste for coffee when I was inside, preferring to stick to water, instead of the cheap, bitter instant mix available there. But before that I loved coffee, specifically a Brazilian roast my mom drinks. I can tell just from the smell that it’s not the cheap stuff.

Lifting it to my lips, I take a cautious sip, and almost moan with delight.

This is how coffee should taste.

I look up just in time to catch the tail end of a smile, quickly hidden when Mom realizes I’m looking at her.

“All I’ve seen you drink since you came home is water. I wasn’t sure if you still drank coffee.” She sits opposite me and reaches out to cover my hand with hers. “I’m so glad to have you home again.”

“I’m glad to be home.” I am. More than she will ever know. Yet the words sound hollow to my ears.

“So, tell me what’s going on with you and Ashley Trumont. You took her out for dinner last night, and I heard you leave the house early this morning. Where did you go?”

“We had a lot to talk about last night, and wanted to carry on, so we met for breakfast.”

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