Page 91 of The Lair

“He came home with his hair chopped off in odd places one day,” he tells me. “Said he wanted to look like one of those rock stars from a magazine. Can you believe it?”

I throw my head back in laughter, mirth swirling in my chest as I slide my gaze to my brooding boss. “That’s cute, Travis.”

He only grunts.

Uncle Neil adds, “He was always a serious kid, but sometimes he did out-of-pocket stuff like that. It was those friends you had. Troublemakers, all of them.”

Travis finishes up his food and takes a sip of water before responding, “Don’t you think it’s getting a little late, old man?”

Uncle Neil rolls his eyes. “All right, all right. You want some alone time with Allie-girl, I get it.”

My cheeks heat up. “Oh, that’s?—”

“Damn right I do.”

My heartbeat quickens.

Uncle Neil’s smile doesn’t go anywhere as his gaze pinballs between me and his nephew. What he sees there, I’m not sure I want to know.

He leaves soon after that, agreeing that he’s tired and wants to watch his favorite show in peace anyway before going to bed.

While Travis drives him home, I shut myself in my bedroom and grab my laptop. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t get my conversation with Tom out of my head. Searching my name online is the only way to find out if damage has been done.

Allison Buccieri to speak out on family abuse? George Eden insists her statement could change the social media landscape.

Far from being scared, my blood boils as I read the headline. Because whatisthis? When did I agree to speak out at all?

I suppress the urge to call Tom and demand him to tell the truth, to say I want nothing to do with this. Or better yet, to keep my name out of their mouths. But when I spoke to Jada earlier, she advised me to stay calm.

“Headlines will mention your name in the upcoming days,” she accurately predicted. “You know how the internet works. They want to bait people for clicks. Don’t pay them any mind—that’s what Paul and I are here for. We’ll update you if it gets out of hand.”

But I can’t look away, frantically searching online spaces I shouldn’t be in for more clues about George Eden’s intentions. What if he reveals my new identity? My location?

Just the thought of a bunch of reporters waiting for me outside The Lair is enough to make me nauseous.

I’m about to click on another article that mentions my family when a knock on my door makes me shut my laptop so fast, I may have shattered the screen. I’m too nervous to check.

“It’s Travis,” says that familiar voice I’ve come to associate with so many things—calmness, safety, butterflies.

I swallow. “Come in.”

He’s hesitant as he opens the door. “Can we talk? You’re fidgety today. Anything happen that I should know about?”

It starts quiet, unsure, as if my brain can’t decide if we’re safe enough to let our guard down or if we need to keep hiding.

I’m so tired.

And so my heart takes the lead, just like every time Travis is involved, and against my better judgment, I break down.

It begins at the tips of my fingers, then climbs the length of my arms and up to my shoulders. My bedroom isn’t cold, but my body starts violently shaking all the same.

“Hey.” He kneels before me, eyes seeking mine. His voice is gentle but firm. “Talk to me.”

My mouth is too dry, and my heart is beating too fast.

Because what could I even say to him?

That I’ve been lying to everyone since I set foot in this town?

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