Page 1 of The Shadows We Keep

PROLOGUE

KEIRA

I Want It – Two Feet

The grinding of coffee beans mixes with the whistle of the steaming milk as the barista assembles my latte. Customers bustle about the small space, picking up their morning dose of legal crack or relaxing in one of the oversized leather chairs near the windows.

“Keira,” the barista calls and I snag my drink from the counter, peering around for an empty seat. One in the back corner opens up.

Perfect.

I sag down, my limbs heavy with exhaustion from working an overnight at the airport. I should have gone straight home and gotten some shuteye, but the nagging in the back of my mind to see if there were any updates online had me shuffling to the coffee shop around the corner from my place instead.

Reloading the bookmarked page on my browser, his timeline still looks the same. It’s killing me. He’s posted nothing in weeks. My nails are bit down to the quicks. I’m going through serious withdrawals, and I need another hit. Just something small to take the edge off. I click from his page to his best friend’s, although it’s been hard not to notice the distance growing between them over the last couple of months. Can I blame him, though? Not when he’s been through something so tragic.

It’s another dead end. The last post with them together is from weeks ago. Someone else connected to him online has to have something. His dad, strike two. His mom? I don’t have high hopes since she usually keeps things picture perfect and high class.

Fucking rich people.

Dear god, why does one woman need so many photos of her perfectly manicured garden? It’s not like she’s the one that tends to it. Just as I thought, another dead end. I slam my laptop shut and shove it back into the messenger bag at my feet.

He’s absent from socials and hasn’t checked in to the online support group. For the first time in years, I’m feeling the miles between us like they’re actually there. He was the last piece of the puzzle I had to cling on to. If I can’t find him again, I truly am alone. The dark thoughts of years past filter through my mind. There’s nothing left holding them at bay.

I race for the door and push it out, heaving in a lungful of air, clearing out the heaviness that started setting into my chest. My vision clears, the little black dots around the edges fading slowly. I push through a group of kids getting off the bus, stopping at the corner.

A right, and I’m a few blocks from home and only minutes from crashing into my mattress. But if I take a left in the opposite direction, I can do a lap and check out his family’s building. They have a mega mansion in California and an industrial modern apartment in Brooklyn.

Oh, to see how the other half lives.

My body decides before my brain can even contemplate the options. My subconscious saw the flash of his face, and my feet followed. I’m not sure why I do it. They’ve never stayed here before. Anytime I’ve seen their trips to New York online, they’re held up in some swanky hotel in Manhattan overlooking Central Park.

I stop across the street and lean up against the red brick of a pizza parlor, taking in his building. Scanning the tinted windows, I realize how obnoxiously out of place this remodel is against the traditional brownstones.

But that’s when I see him, coming around the corner, hoodie pulled up, boot laces dragging along the pavement. A whoosh of air leaves my lungs, and my hands grasp the rough brick ledge behind me.

He’s here, across the street, closer to me than ever before. My world tips on its axis. An hour ago, I was jonesing for a bite of information on his whereabouts. For once, the universe is on my side.

Following his strides with my gaze, I survey every inch of him. The black hoodie drapes from his frame, but his jeans hold tight to his toned legs. I know underneath he’s coated in inky designs. The once country club going, prep school jock is gone. In his wake stands the mysterious man in black across from me. He enters the building, disappearing behind the tinted door.

He’s here.

I don’t know how long I’ve lingered, but my feet ache and my palms are scratched raw from the rough exterior of the building. I give up on the hope that he’s coming out soon. Turning to head back in the direction I came, a for rent sign in the window snags my attention.

I duck inside. No one sits at the counter, but a jovial voice with a thick Italian accent calls from the back. A gigantic mountain of a man comes around the corner with flour coating his shirt. “What can I get you?” he asks.

“Who do I talk to about the apartment for rent?” I throw a thumb over my shoulder in clarification of my question.

He takes me in. I probably look rough since I’ve been up almost twenty-four hours because of my minor detour on the way home. I must pass his inspection because he finally answers, “Boss isn’t in right now. Should be back this evening. Can you come by then?”

“Yeah, I can make that work. Do you know which apartment it is?”

He points up to the ceiling. “Third floor, faces that monstrosity of a building across the street.” He visibly cringes.

I like him. That’s perfect. If I can swing it, I can keep better tabs on him if he’s done away with socials.

“Great.” I extend my hand across the counter. “I’m Keira.” He wipes his tan paw against his shirt and takes mine tightly. “Can you let your boss know I’ll be back later? I’m looking for a place as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing.” He nods in confirmation, and I head back for the street, looking down at my watch. It’s already one, by the time I get back home I’ll only have enough time for a quick nap before I’ll need to get ready for work again if I want to stop here before my shift. Tonight’s going to suck.

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