Page 65 of Silent Is The Heart

“About us?”

I have so many mixed feelings about hearingusas anus. What even are we now? What are Easton and I?

“Well, I at least need to tell him you’re alive.”

I don’t know if I’m evenallowedto do that. If Jason hasn’t told his mother and has kept this big secret from me, it seems like no one should know, but I can’tnottell Easton. Yet, henods and fetches his coat from where it’s slung over one of the chairs. I watch with bated breath, wondering what his sudden compliance means, but then I hear the front door creak open.

“I hope you’re still in the Christmas spirit because—”

Easton doesn’t finish his sentence, but my heart breaks seeing the boxes of Christmas lights under his arm and bags of takeout slung over his other. Could he be any sweeter? And now I have to deliver hell to him.

“Hi,” I call, but barely any sound comes out. It’s too bizarre having him and Jason in the same room—my past and my present.

Jason steps in front of me, blocking my view, and leans in, murmuring, “On second thought, maybe it’s better you don’t tell him.”

I don’t understand why there’s a smirk on his face when he draws back. What’s amusing about this? Does he see something in Easton he finds comical, or is it the situation? It’s like being suspended in time, watching him walk to fetch his bag mere feet away from Easton.

“It looks like your company’s here,” he calls back cheerfully to me. “I’ve got to get going, anyway. It was nice to see you again. We can catch up more another time.”

Easton looks confused and subdued, almost like he thinks he just burst in on me having company. I can’t move. All I see in front of me is an impossible choice—a life I didn’t know I was supposed to live and one that was so close I could almost taste it.

CHAPTER 32

Easton

“I’ve got to get going, anyway. It was nice to see you again. We can catch up more another time.”

I shrunk in on myself when I first walked in, wondering if I’d intruded on Aaron having company. He never said anything about being busy when I texted earlier that I was bringing dinner. The way the dark-haired man in the kitchen stood so close to him a moment ago gave me a sick sensation in my stomach. He was too near something that’s mine.

There’s something oddly familiar about him, but I thought maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. Until now.

That voice… that smug-ass voice, I’d remember it anywhere.

It can’t be.

As he walks toward me and picks up a gym bag off the sideboard, I have a full view of his face. Thick black hair, cold brown eyes—Reider. Why the fuck does he look a hell of a lot like Jason Reider with a beard?

Flashing me a wink, he slaps me on the shoulder. “I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

It’s a hard slap, but that’s not why the bag of carryout slips from my grip and crashes to the floor. Itishim. I swear by all that’s holy, it’s him.The way he quickly moves his footout of the way, like he’s worried about damaging his shoes, if something from the containers leaked, only convinces me more.

“Whoa. Careful there.”

Dropping to my knee, I re-stack the containers inside the bag with shaky hands, reminding myself to breathe. It smells like dinner in here already. Were they cooking together? Does he have a twin brother? What in ever-loving hell is going on?

Aaron rushes over, bending down to help me. He takes the two boxes of Christmas lights from underneath my other arm and sets them down on the sideboard without a second glance at my gift for the night.

“This is Easton,” he tells the Reider lookalike. “Easton…this is…”

I don’t like how he looks uncertain. I don’t like how pale his face is.

“Tomás,” the man supplies, squeezing my hand more tightly than necessary. “I heard Aaron moved back to town and thought I’d pay him a visit.”

Why am I getting an explanation like he knows I should be here, but he shouldn’t? Jesus… he even smells like Reider used to. I nod dumbly, my head full of questions hammering at my skull. The article I found on the internet said Reider died. I didn’t imagine that. I want to believe Aaron’s confirmation of that was true. I want to believe the tears he cried over being conflicted when I made that pass at him at Pulse were real, but my instinct is telling me I’ve been lied to.

“You two behave yourselves,” the man calls and heads out the door.

I watch Aaron slowly lock it behind him and stare after the man through the glass pane for a moment. He lets out a soundof relief, turning toward me. His gaze satellites from mine to the floor in rapid succession. He looks nothing short of sick. Sick and… guilty.

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