Page 89 of Twisted Truths
I nod, swallowing down the ache in my throat.
By the time we tape the last box shut, the room feels … hollow. The walls and shelves are bare, and all that’s left is the compass on the desk. A reminder that whoever did this is still out there.
Hadley slips her hand into mine as we stand in the doorway. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Her touch gives me strength and keeps me from falling apart. Zara needs me to stay focused. If I let my emotions control me, I’ll be useless for her son.
“Goodbye, Ziggy,” I whisper as we close the door behind us. “I promise Franklin will know you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
HADLEY
After clearing Zara’s bedroom, Nash escapes to the makeshift gym in the barn. Knowing he needs to be alone, I take some boxes into the sitting room and pack away the books and photo frames, carefully wrapping them with old newspapers I found stacked by the back door.
An hour later, he brings me lunch. He sits behind me on the floor, leaning against the couch, and I lean into him as I eat my toasted sandwich. We don’t say anything, simply content to be in each other’s presence after the emotional morning we’ve had.
Nash rests his chin on my shoulder, his fingers tracing patterns on my hip.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I reply, tilting my head to press a kiss to his jaw.
He nuzzles his cheek against mine. “Yeah, I do. I know I haven’t always treated you?—”
“Stop,” I interrupt, twisting to face him. “You’ve beenthrough the worst couple of weeks of your life. You lost your family.”
He grimaces. “You don’t need to make excuses for me, Hadley. You deserve better.”
My chest tightens, but I refuse to look away from him. “I don’t want better,” I whisper. “I want you. Even the messy, grieving, complicated version.”
His lips part like he’s about to say something. Instead, he kisses me, soft at first, his hand cupping the back of my neck like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on.
Just as the moment deepens, there’s a sharp rap at the front door.
We freeze.
Another knock. More insistent this time.
“Nash? You in there? It’s important.”
The voice is unfamiliar. Male. Urgent.
Nash mutters a curse and rises to his feet in one smooth motion, his warmth leaving me too quickly. He shoots me a look that’s equal parts apology and warning.
“Stay here.”
Fear lances through me, but I hurry over to listen at the open doorway.
“Shane,” Nash greets the visitor. “What’s up?”
“Can I come in?”
“The place is a bit of a mess.”
There’s a pause, followed by a deep sigh. “I’m here on official police business, Nash.”
“Did you find evidence to prove Zara’s innocence?” My heart aches at the hope in his voice.
Shane clears his throat. “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry to ask you this, but do you have anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts for the last twenty-four hours?”
