Page 59 of The Shadows We Keep

Igroan into the darkness behind my eyelids while the air around me shifts. Peeling my right eye open slowly, Stace’s concerned gaze peers down at me from a mere inch away.

“Okay, enough is enough. You need to tell me what’s going on with you,” she prods.

“Stace, come on. It’s a long story,” I sigh.

Her hands grip my shoulders and pull me up from my supine position on her couch. “Nope, you don’t get to show up unannounced, dressed in someone else’s clothes, without telling me what the hell is going on. Let’s start with whose closet you raided.”

I dive into the whole situation, recapping everything from the moment I got home to see that stupid paper taped to my front door. To the very end, where I freaked out on Harkin and left without grabbing any of my stuff. I filled her in on the notes I’d received and how my miraculous giveaway winning was him, too.

“So, you know I love you, right? But how is what he did any worse than what you’ve been keeping from him? Sounds to me like it’s a whole lot of the same stuff from a different angle. Hate to be that friend, babe, but you don’t really have a leg to stand on in this fight, if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you,” I snap, immediately regretting it. My head falls heavy in my hands. “I’m sorry. I know, you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. But, what if...” My thought trails off.

“But what if he really cares about you enough to look out for you? What if you just ran because you’re scared? What if you finally found the one guy in this city of millions that’s exactly what you need to break down those mile-high concrete walls you’ve surrounded your heart with?” she says.

“You know I came here for a couch to sulk on. For the friend I thought would ease my wounds with a couple shots of tequila. What’s gotten into you?”

Her face reddens at the accusation, and I know something’s up.

“Spill! I need a distraction.”

“Not what, but who,” she corrects, raising her eyebrows at the innuendo. “You remember the bouncer from the club? Robert?” she asks, a sly smile creeping across her face.

I nod in confirmation.

“Well, last time we went, after you left, he got off early. I expected him to want to leave and have a drink, but he’s a member there too. He’s only allowed to enjoy the activities on member only nights though because the crowd is easier to control.”

It’s all falling into place now. If he’s anything like Harkin, no wonder my beautiful, free-spirited friend has quickly become the voice of reason. It’s that good dick.

“So, you’ve finally been tamed, huh?” I tease.

“Bitch please, he wishes. But I really think you should talk this out with Harkin. Does being compared to his dead ex-girlfriend suck? Hell yeah. But you’ve been caught up on his ass for years. Are you really going to let something like this stop you from finally being with him?”

Rolling my eyes, sick of her logic, I break down and agree. “But can we get drunk first?”

“Of course!” She sing-songs across the apartment to her liquor cart, and says, “Pick your poison.”

* * *

The screen onStace’s phone blurs, but if I squint at just the right angle the images blend back together and I can see what I’m trying to do. I haven’t had it for long, but his number sits at the front of my mind as I type it into the contact bar.

I can’t replace her.

My eyes droopwith heaviness as I wait for a response. A bottle of tequila and a few hours of much needed mind-numbing trashy TV later Stace was ready for bed. Her oversized plush sectional my home for the night. It envelops my body as I sink deeper and deeper into the comfort of my drunken haze. The phone vibrates against my chest over and over. Not a text notification; a call.

Hitting the green button, I automatically put it on speaker. I can’t balance the phone against my ear in this state. I say nothing, waiting for him to fill the silence with more than just the deep breaths flowing across the line.

“You we’re never a replacement for me, Keira.” His tone is so sincere. I can almost see the worry etched in his brows behind my closed eyes.

“I just can’t get it out of my head. Harkin, you loved her. You still dream about her, even with me in your bed.”

“Shit, those aren’t dreams, they’re the fucked-up reminders of the worst day of my life.” He scoffs, but his words are laced with sadness.

The silence builds again between us. I know it’s not fair to blame him for what happens when he’s unconscious. But I’m grasping at straws for a reason to stay mad when all I want is to blurt out that it’s fine because I have secrets too. Secrets just as bad; if not worse. That would certainly change his mind about me. It’s why he can never know about my connection to Alina. And especially why I’ll continue to play the victim even though it’s eating me alive every time I have to lie right to his face and make him out to be the issue, when I’m equally as guilty.

“Tell me where you are, little one?” His question pulls me from my vortex of self-spun lies.

“In Manhattan, on a very cozy couch—all alone.” My words slur.

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