Page 49 of Broken Halo

I was not lying—Trig has two minutes and he’s out. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to make him leave, but I’ll do my damnedest.

“Well?” I demand, evening my tone and straightening my spine. I don’t need another scene like the other day in my office.

He brings his hand up and rubs his jaw. “I see your parents haven’t changed.”

I roll my eyes. “Did you think they would? Kipp Montgomery will never change.”

“He hasn’t been in town much since I started at MI. Luckily for me, he’s taking his retirement more seriously than I thought he would.”

“Why did you do it?” I ask because I have to know.

“Do what?”

I take in a breath. “Take the job at MI. Why in the hell would you want anything to do with my family, let alone work for them?”

He looks to the side, contemplating my backyard. When he turns back to me, he says, “I couldn’t help myself. It was a big, fat fuck you to your dad.”

His blatant honesty pours over me like a bucket of cold water, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Trig was never one to bullshit, and after my years with Robert, I know the difference.

He keeps up with the honesty but his tone cuts through the space between us like a knife. “Every time he walks into the business he built, I want him to see my face. I want to remind him that he has no fucking control over me and he’s not the only one who can build something out of nothing. He tried to get rid of me years ago, but I’m back and no one has a fucking hold on me—no one. I’m not going to lie, angel, as much as I never wanted anything to do with a Montgomery ever again, sticking it to your father makes me a very happy man.”

I have no words and I know I should feel guilty or some sort of loyalty to my family, but I don’t care. As much as it hurts to have him back in my life, it brings me nothing but joy that he can throw that in my father’s face. His being upset that Trig was back in Texas was nothing compared to the conversation Jen said she had with our dad before hiring Trig.

“Sorry to piss you off more,” Trig adds, though not at all contrite. “But it’s true.”

I shake my head. “I don’t blame you. And it doesn’t piss me off. My dad thinks he can rule his kingdom with a heavy hand. Well, he might have, but not anymore. Jen is making sure of it. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to pick our parents?”

Trig doesn’t find any humor in my offhand comment because his face doesn’t crack when he states, “Your father might be an ass and I’m not giving him a break, but it could always be worse.”

Shit. Just when I gained an inch of comfort, he brings up the past and tosses it at my feet. I bite my lip and look away from him because it’s etched into his face—the pain and the anger and the loss. I’d know it anywhere.

I move to the island and blindly flip through my mail for something meaningless to focus on. “Your times up, tough guy. Get out of my house.”

He moves, his fancy dress shoes connecting with the wood in confidence and purpose, and not toward the exit to take him far, far away. When they stop, he doesn’t touch me, but I feel him at my back—not only his heat but his presence. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the edge of the marble, begging my body and heart not to react.

I jerk when he touches me, just one finger sliding across my bare shoulders and back, dragging my messy hair with it. My skin tingles under his touch, one that feels so different than the other day in my office when he practically restrained me like a wild animal. My words catch on a breath. “What are you doing?”

“Shh.” His hush tickles my temple and I tense, waiting for … something. Another touch, his warmth, his lips…

Shit.

What’s up with the change in him? He’s making this too hard. I’d rather him hate me than us be in this weird twilight zone that I don’t comprehend. I’m not sure I can take it—not with Trig. Feeling anything insipid when it comes to him isn’t possible.

“Trig—”

“Here,” he murmurs, so close to my ear, his word brushes my skin at the same time cool metal tickles my collarbone. “She’d want you to have this.”

I bring my hand up to my neck and choke on my tears in an instant. It’s the gold crescent I gave Faye for Christmas last year. She wore it every time I saw her after that, until she got too sick to get herself up and dressed every day. That’s when everything went downhill and I totally forgot about the necklace because the gravity of life overtook everything.

Trig fastens it at the back of my neck and traces the gold against my skin, but that’s all I get. My tears leak through my lids for my friend who’s gone, for Trig who lost his mom, and I can’t lie, for everything that never was.

He drops his face into the side of my head, burying himself in my hair, inhaling deeply.

“My time’s up,” he whispers there and I have to bite my lip to hold back a sob.

Breathing in one more time, he doesn’t say any more. I lose his touch, his warmth, and, most importantly, his presence—something I’m allowing myself to get used to.

Leaving me, I hear my front door open and shut without another word.

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