Page 43 of The Broken Note

And I can’t be distracted right now.

Mom is a full-time job. Even worse, she brought a killer with her.

Although I don’t believe all of her story, I know that a woman as self-absorbed as mom would never leave her life behind over nothing. Shedidsee or uncover something that was big enough to make her run.

But why come back?

That question needles at me. If the matter was really over and done with, mom would have shown up on her own and made things clear. She was sneaking around instead. The only reason she bothered to show her face was because I changed the locks and she couldn’t get into the house to steal.

My instincts are screaming that whatever she’s involved with isn’t over.

Viola’s still in danger.

And by accepting mom back into our lives, we might have just invited the killer to our house.

Dutch’s shoulders get tense and he touches my cheek. “What’s wrong? Did my dad say something to you?”

I shake my head.

The gravity of the moment falls heavy on me.

I open my mouth, but no sound escapes. Damn. Why is this so hard?

I hate Dutch.

I hate him… right?

Yes.

I do.

But I don’t. Not as much as I should.

And it’s been that way since the beginning.

The push and pull.

Hate and want.

Lust and loathing.

Nothing with him is ever simple. Did I think that pushing him away would be simple too?

Since words fail me, I simply extend the ring box to him.

His eyes drop to the item I’m offering. He doesn’t say a word, but I can tell he’d rather destroy the box with a hammer than take it back from me.

“This was ridiculous, Dutch. We both know it.” I set the ring box on the arm of the sofa, since he won’t accept it from my hands. The words burn like hot cigarettes, branding my esophagus. My hands are trembling and I clench them into fists. “I don’t want to marry you. I can’t even stand the sight of you.”

Silence rings out while the words hang in the air, dark clouds full of toxic rain and hail.

“I will never forget what you did to me, and I don’t want anything to do with you,” I whisper hotly.

He tilts his head up to the ceiling and I can’t see his expression but, when he glances down again, he looks contemplative. “Prove it.”

“What?”

His face remains stoic. His blond hair catches the sunlight and burns like gold. I watch him sink into the couch, eyes never leaving mine. He motions to me. “Come and sit in my lap.”

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