Page 18 of Shattered Hearts

Pop scoffs. “That’s hardly surprising.”

“No, but it’s too tidy for me. Max was working to expose the Blacks. He meets Zarah and falls in love. Willow and Max’s father were having an affair. She lets Stella go, Ash and Clayton go to prison. Now Zarah can’t remember anything, and Max is dead.”

“And you pick up where Max left off.”

Rourke said the same thing, and it doesn’t matter if Pop’s the one repeating it, it still rubs me the wrong way. “I can’t help how I feel about her. One second she was a chore Max foisted on me, the next, all I want to do is hide her from the world so no one can touch her again.”

“I think she’s had enough of that, but I get your point and I see what you see. A beautiful, vulnerable young girl. Nothing makes a man feel more like a man than taking a bullet for the woman he loves.”

“I don’t plan on getting shot.” Again.

“Doubt Max did, either. You think everything is too neat. So is falling for the girl. Be careful.”

Scowling, I hunch in my seat. No one coerced me into falling in love. No one manipulated me into it. Her big brown eyes and her kisses did that all on their own. Zarah didn’t need any help. Would things be easier if I didn’t love her? Fuck, yeah. Or maybe, like Stella feared, without me in the picture willing to get my hands dirty, things could be a lot worse.

“Maybe it was meant to happen,” I say.

Pop folds the check and locks it in the safe we keep in the wall hidden behind a tacky oil painting of dogs playing poker. “All right. If Zarah’s a case, we treat her like a case. That means keeping an open mind. I’m not working this with you if you’re going to stonewall everything I say. There might be things you’re going to have to push aside. You know as well as I do not every case is roses and champagne, and Zarah might not be anydifferent. Sometimes we find things we don’t want to find, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Not all endings are happy.”

“Stella said the same thing at lunch. It doesn’t matter what we find. We do what’s right like we always have.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go over what we got.”

We’re an hour into writing a list of what’s related to Zarah’s case and what’s not when Pop’s phone rings. Everything from Jerricka Solis to Quiet Meadows’ dead former patients to Stella’s escape and Willow and Rourke having an affair. Everything is connected...but not, and on paper, nothing looks like it makes sense. Not with anything in regard to the Blacks, and certainly not to Zarah’s recovery, but I like having it all written down and now that Pop’s helping, maybe we can start putting a few of the pieces together.

I badgered Pop into accepting Stella’s invitation, and I’m feeling better about things for the first time since Zarah broke down in my stairwell. Pop answers his cell, and I don’t mind—I need a break. It’s a good idea to brainstorm with someone who can look at all the details objectively. I’ll have to be careful because Pop’s right. I’m too close to this case.

“Delilah, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

I tamp down a smile. Pop always did know how to sound sincere when he was anything but.

“Well, Happy New Year to you, too.”

My gaze shoots to the calendar hanging on the wall above our Keurig. Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve. How did I miss that? I would love to bring in the New Year with Zarah, kissing her and...talking about a future that’s so hazy and disjointed that planning causes fear instead of excitement. Sounds great.

“Yes, he’s here.”

I frown.

“You can speak to him. Just a sec.”

Pop pushes Mute.

“Why does she call you looking for me?”

“Because she knows you don’t answer your phone.”

I hold out my hand. “Fine.”

Pop unmutes his cell and hands it over.

“Mom.”

“Gage. You’re a bear to get a hold of. Just a bear. How are you? And Zarah?”

“Fine. We’re fine.”

Pop kicks me under the desk. No reason to be rude. It’s not her fault her husband is a lying, fucking cheat.

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