Page 147 of Under the Lies

“I doubt that.” I remember the heated argument happening as I was waking up, though the words still escape me. “Why was he really here?”

“Why does it matter?” he counters.

With a glare, I push away from the doorframe. “Should I recount the last twenty-four hours to you?”

“Yes, I seem to have forgotten,” he snarks back. “Please go on.”

“Noah. Can’t you be serious?”

“What do you want me to say, Sayer?”

“I want you to tell me how we’re going to catch this bastard. It’s the same person who sent me the letter and photos!”

Darling Sayer. The name makes my skin crawl.

“We?” He lifts a brow. “There is no we in this, Sayer.” He stands up from the bed, meeting me in the middle of his bedroom. “There’s you, then there’s me. You’re not getting near this.”

“I’m already in this!” I shout. “Or have you been so focused on my sister that you forgot why I’m actually here?”

A look crosses his faces as his feet eat the distance between us. “You think I forgot?” That authoritative tone is back in his voice, but I’m not one to bend. “I still have dirt under my fingernails from the cemetery where I dug you out.”

“I want to help…” My voice trails off, Noah’s already shaking his head. Not budging. My fists clench and I resist the urge to do what I really want, which is punching Noah in the throat.

He’s so stubborn!

But before I can carry out my crime, there’s a knock on Noah’s door.

It opens before Noah can give the okay, and Gabe’s head is peeking in. “Got what you asked for.”

Noah doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t look away from me as he raises two fingers waving him in.

As the door opens, my eyes widen. Gabe’s not alone. In his hands is a small bundle of fur. “Pan!”

Breaking away from Noah, I run to Gabe and grab my cat from his hands.

The comfort of his purring is a balm to my ears, soothing the places my shower couldn’t reach. I bury my face in his fur, never wanting to let him go again.

“I’d be careful next time you see Reeve,” Gabe warns.

“Why?” I ask, picking my head up.

“He wasn’t too happy I took your cat back. My boy has gotten quite attached to that flea infested fur ball.”

“Pan doesn’t have fleas!” I hold my cat closer, insulted on his behalf. Turning away from Gabe, I march to Noah’s bed and place Pan on the mattress, inspecting him.

He looks the same, fluffy white fur and yellow-green eyes that still shine with judgments and sass, and it feels like he’s gained a little weight.

He’s perfect.

I turn to Noah. “Why did you ask for him?”

“For you,” he replies, glaring at the feline as he walks across the mattress headed for the pillows. “I thought you might’ve missed him.”

An unspoken thought lingers: I thought you might need him.

At a loss for what to say, Gabe saves me from saying anything. “Do you need anything else?”

Noah shakes his head. “Go meet up with Reeve, he’ll fill you in.”

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