Page 97 of Overcast

Emric continues chewing his pizza, letting me fill in the blanks between us. How can he eat, number one, at a time like this? And, two—

"How will you know either way?" I manage to force out, all of a sudden, losing my appetite.

“The same way I—” I abruptly rise from my chair and toss my paper plate with my pizza on the coffee table.

“You can’t. You can’t do that.” He peers up at me, hazel eyes filled with determination and calmness.

This seems like a normal thing for him, but it’s not for me. He can’t put people’s lives at risk by his hands and expect things to just appear. I got extremely lucky when I ran into Reagan to get out of my predicament.

There is no one to save dad.

“You…” My words—they run. They don’t want to deal with the reality of what could happen with the man sitting across the room from me. How he holds the only piece of family I have in the palm of his hands.

“You, what?”

My stomach knots, but I tilt my chin up anyway. All he's ever seen from me is fear and hopelessness. But I don't feel courage. Emric is more than I could ever be, right or wrong, moral or cordial, I'll never be as strong as him.

“You wouldn’t...kill him if he had nothing to say or give to you, right?”

He nods. "Eat your food, and we'll talk about it."

I don’t want to eat and talk about it.

I just want him to blurt it out and let me...deal with it. Think of something to do or another way to escape this house.

What good would that do?

I have no idea where I am, where Dad is locked up, how I'd be able to find him or locate someone who might know? I'm as worthless as I feel.

Emric continues to look at me expectantly, so I compel myself to sit in front of the man who’s changed my life forever.

And not in the way that will make me write a eulogy piece at his funeral.

“Don’t see you eating, sweetheart.” My eyes cut into him, but I snatch my plate back up, catching my slice of pizza before it slides off and take a large bite to appease him.

"I'll make a deal with you," he offers, leaning up in his chair. "Question for a question. You ask me, and I'll answer truthfully and vice versa. Deal?"

“What could you possibly want to ask me that you haven’t already?”

His face holds straight-laced as we hold a locked staring contest. "Deal or not?”

I have a feeling, either way, this isn't going to work out in my favor.

I could lie, telling the truth doesn't get me anywhere. Whatever doubts or misgivings that he wants to get out in the open, they lead to one thing—I have no clue what he's going to be talking about.

"Fine."

Off my answer, Emric tosses the rest of his pizza in the box. His eyes that turn moss-like study me like I'm prey again. "What's up with you and Hollis?"

My eyes slit as he looks fixedly on me.

I'm tired of thinking of that man. I don't want to ponder on the way he made me feel or the things he did. I don't want to recall the dread I felt in my veins when I heard him in my house, which was supposed to be a safe place.

He was the last thing I wanted to discuss.

“Who said you got to start the questioning?” I object instead, casting my own slice of pizza in the box, followed by the plate.

“If you wanna go first, go for it.” He folds his hands together, broad shoulders extenuating as he patiently waits for me to start.

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