Page 80 of Brazen Deceits

“I’m a big girl. And now that I have money in my account, I can call a rideshare. Don’t worry about me. Have a nice Thanksgiving, Trips.”

I hang up before he answers. Immature? Yup. But I’m not ruining anyone else’s Thanksgiving.

My phone rings, but I ignore it. It’s followed by a text, then another. I don’t check them until I finish up my fries. One missed call and two texts from Trips.

Call me back

You have ten minutes

A time limit. How original, Trips. I check the timestamp—two minutes left. Taking a few sips of my coffee, I wait until I’m almost out of time before calling back. I’m not brave enough to find out what would happen if I missed his deadline. Not today.

“God fucking damn it, Clara. I’m sending someone to come get you.”

“No, Trips. I’m not ruining anyone else’s Thanksgiving.”

There’s a long pause on the other end. “I won’t bother RJ or Jansen, don’t worry.”

I stop, my mind jumping to all the things he’s not saying. “Trips,” I start, but a vaguely familiar voice cuts in from the background.

“Archie. You know the deal.”

The sound turns muffled, like Trips is pressing the phone against his chest. “Of course, Father. Just wishing a friend a happy Thanksgiving.”

“One minute, Archie.”

“Yes, sir.”

There is a long beat before I can hear Trips’ breathing on the other end. “If I could come, I’d be there in a heartbeat, Clara.”

He clears his throat, and I don’t know how to answer. “Thanks,” I say, as lame as possible.

“Is it okay if I tap into RJ’s tracking app?”

I laugh. “Let me just tell you the name of the place, Trips. I’ll stay put. I promise.”

Giving him the info, he promises to send Walker, then hangs up without saying bye.

The receipt under my empty mug flutters with every rush of cold air from the front door, making me grateful that I’m getting a ride. Even if Walker doesn’t want to see me. Even if I miss him so much it feels like a spot disturbingly close to my heart is seeping blood into my chest cavity.

He said we’re done. And I won’t force someone to be with me if they don’t want to.

Is he hurting as much as I am?

I’ve zoned out, worrying, when a hand settles on my shoulder. I leap up, spinning around, Walker backing away, a small smile on his face. “Hey, just me.”

“Oh. Hi.” My hands flutter around before I force them into the pockets of my capelet. “Sorry you had to come get me. I told Trips I could find my own way back, but you know how he can be.”

He reaches around me, scooping up my purse, hat, and mittens, and then heading for the door. “It’s no problem. I was glad to have an excuse to disappear.”

I trail after him, out the door and down the street to his car, bright orange under a streetlight. Do I push? No, not on this. Not yet. “Then I guess I’m glad to be your excuse?”

He chuckles, opening my door, putting my purse and things inside before turning to me. “You’re never an excuse, Clara, you’re always a reason.”

With that cryptic set of words, he goes to his own side and cranks on the engine, while I climb in, the heat a blessing.

“So where to, princess?”

I take in his dress shirt, his hair tamed, his knuckles dry and cracking. His smile is there, but his eyes are tired. This is no mask. He’s run out of them.

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