Page 18 of Broken Halo

She still doesn’t give me her eyes. “Staring at me.”

“Why?”

She exhales, pissed, probably at the world. “The pot wasn’t mine. I don’t know where it came from.”

“Do I look like I give a shit?”

That does it. Her eyes snap to mine and her words are even colder than her expression. “What do you want? I don’t know why you moved back to Dallas. I don’t know why you agreed to work for Montgomery Industries. I don’t know why you want anything to do with me because, right now, of all the times in my life, I do not need you … anywhere near me.”

Her last words might as well be a slap across my face and for some reason, that makes me smile.

The elevator dings and the doors open. But before she can move to leave, I step in front of her, caging her in, and push the button to hold the doors. Leaning down, I level my eyes with hers. “Of all the people in the world, you’re the last person who I should be bailing out of jail, but from where I stand, you don’t have a lot of choices right now—let alone friends. Stop being a bitch because you’ve got problems bigger than me.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I didn’t ask for your help,” she hisses.

“No, you didn’t, but you’re in a bind and you need me. Don’t act stupid, angel, because I know you’re anything but.” I straighten, take my finger off the button, and turn to leave. I hear her moving after me, her shoes slapping against her feet as she follows and I look back over my shoulder. “And by the way, you owe me three hundred bucks.”

5

Zero-Three-Zero-Nine

It may be painful now, but just think, someday when that ache is healed, you’ll be a new person, able to appreciate the agony.

Ellie

I haven’t uttered a word on the ride back to my house. He even flipped off the radio the second my ass hit the seat of his Mercedes, and I swear, he did it intentionally to make me uncomfortable. The silence is heavy with pain and memories that cut so deep, they’re just as raw and bloody as the day I stepped on my parents’ private jet to head for Juilliard.

He hates me.

And rightfully so.

I had no idea the ride from the county jail to my house could last a lifetime, but why the hell would I? I didn’t think anything could seem longer than the ride there when I was sitting on a sticky bench in the back of a police cruiser that smelled of stale body odor and old onion rings.

I’m sure I’ve gotten three gray hairs and a wrinkle between my brows from the stress of the day, not to mention being in an enclosed space with Trig Barrett. Fucking finally, he pulls up to the entrance to my neighborhood and rolls down his window as he turns to me, finally uttering the first word between us. “Code.”

I wince and squeeze my eyes tight.

“Ellie, I need the code to get in.”

I take a breath and exhale.

He’s losing his patience. “Dammit, Ellie—”

Without looking at him, I whisper, “Zero-three-zero-nine.”

He doesn’t move.

I shift to drop my face in my hand and lean onto the passenger door. If I look at him now, I’ll lose it. I should’ve gotten out and walked home.

He mutters, “Fuck,” right before he exhales so deeply it almost turns into a groan.

I hear him punch in the code I use for everything. Every-damn-thing and his muttered curse settles into me where ghosts live.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but for some reason, it hurts to realize he didn’t forget. But I’m sure it would hurt worse if he had.

I’ve decided that everything hurts.

Back to silence, he moves through the gates and when he finally throws it into park in my circle drive, I can’t move fast enough.

---