Page 56 of The Villain

Thank God, she couldn’t see me.Because walking into that room was like having a bullet dug straight out of my heart—one that had been embedded there for almost two decades.

The same floral bedspread. The yellow sunflower lamp. And the Polaroid photo of us from her eighteenth birthday at the Hibachi restaurant. They’d given her a massive hat and me a ridiculous gong to hold for the picture.

I didn’t remember much about the meal, but I did remember dessert; that night was the first time I tasted between her thighs.

A deep sound slipped through my defenses and escaped from my chest.

“What is it?” She searched for me, worried.

“Just some dust in my eye,” I said quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry. There should be tissues on the dresser.”

Nothing was in my eye, but I needed space, so I used the excuse to move to the other side of the room, keeping a careful watch on her as I did so.

“Why do you keep apologizing for things—things that aren’t your fault?” I wondered and grabbed two tissues from the box.

“Habit.” Her tone was sad as she walked her fingers along the edge of the bed. “I never seemed to be able to do the right thing for Brandon. Even little things—too much mayo on his lunch sandwich, but if I added more, it was too much—so apologies became a habit. I didn’t realize how bad it was—how bad it had gotten—until after I left him.”

I wished we’d never let that fucker go.Jail would’ve been a welcome consequence for being able to return the weight of those unwarranted apologies to him in the form of my fist.

“He didn’t deserve you.”

“Well, you know what they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.” A half smile tugged the corner of her full lips. “Ironically, it’s the only sight I have right now…”

I looked away for a second and noticed the top drawer of the dresser was partially open. But it was what was inside that caught my eye: a stack of envelopes banded together, my name printed on the front.They looked the same as what she’d sent to me.

I glanced at Athena before carefully sliding my hand inside and pulling out the pile. There were at least two dozen here.

“What did you say I had that morning?”

My attention snapped to her. “Your gym bag.”

“A duffel bag?” she corrected.

“Yeah.” I’d assumed it was for the gym. “Navy-blue one.”

Her head swiveled to the closet, her hand on the bed keeping her oriented to the space. “I kept that bag in there, but I wouldn’t have used it for the gym.”

I could see her frustration all over her face, her brain trying to recall the details of that morning.

“But if I came in here to get it…with all the boxes…” Her head angled to the left. “Can you check the nightstand? Or maybe I can?—”

“Let me—” I had a split second to decide—and in that split second, my bad intentions got the better of me. Instead of returning the envelopes to the drawer, I tucked them into my back pocket to read later.They had my name on them, after all.

“Here,” she exclaimed, finding a folded piece of paper on the nightstand just as I made it to her. “Is this it?” The desperate hope in her voice was gut wrenching. “I must’ve set the invoice down in a rush…” She trailed off, trying to jumpstart her memory that refused to cooperate.

I took the paper from her and opened it, my exhale rushing through my lips.

“Dare—”

“Richard Iverson. 224 Cliffside Court.” I read off the information at the top. “You found it.” I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo of the address, sending it immediately to Ty.

Her brows pulled together. “I think…I think I took the paintings to him that morning.”

“We’ll figure it out?—”

Her hand flung out, colliding directly with my chest—directly over my heart. “Wait…”

---