Page 81 of Heartfelt Pain
“Is there anything I’m doing right lately?” I ask.
“This is not about knocking you down.” He takes a step but hesitates. “When’s the last time we had a conversation that didn’t regard the Russians or the Italians or the Irish?”
“We’ve got book club,” I say weakly.
He shoots me a pitying look. “You fell asleep at the last meeting.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“You were so tired you almost face planted in the bowl of ramen Abe brought out to you.”
“I woke up like ten minutes later!” They promised me I hadn’t been out that long.
“It was an hour,” Ben says. “We sat around in silence for an hour because we all knew you needed the sleep and didn’t want to disturb you.”
The world tilts, my head swimming. My memory of the event is a lie. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Why didn’t they drop a hint instead of cornering me in a bathroom at the Zimins?
Irritation flares over Ben’s features. “I don’t know. I guess we all thought the serial killer was the most pressing concern.”
“If I slow down work then the serial killer will think he’s getting to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ben cries out, arms flailing around. “Fuck what the serial killer thinks. For fuck’s sakes, we should probably stop taking clients so that we could spend some actual time figuring out who the fucking serial killer is!”
He runs a hand through his hair, stopping himself. “I’m not yelling about this anymore. . . I need to go.”
The last time I fought with Ben, we were sixteen and I hated his boyfriend. It’s a reversal of fortunes and the stakes are so much higher now.
He shuts the door behind him. There’s only the sound of a light buzzing in the kitchen and my own horrific sobs as I rush to my room and fall into the perfectly made-up bed.
CHAPTER 18
Ren
The alarm blares at five in the morning like always.
After a batch of crying, I managed to get an hour of sleep. I woke up, struggling to breathe, the pins and needles of anxiety coursed through me so badly.
I drank the glass of water Roma left for me on the nightstand and turned on the news. The color seeped into the dark room, where I laid between the pillows Roma artfully spread out.
I maybe dozed for another hour before staring up at the ceiling the rest of the night.
The alarm cuts off a weather report but I don’t care. Clear skies aren’t going to make this day any less painful.
You’re such a stupid bitch, Ren.
It’s the repeated thought that won’t leave me alone.
Texts and reminders fill my phone when I grab it to turn off the alarm. There’s not a single message from any of my friends.
My shower is followed by skincare, makeup, and hair. I don’t think about the clothes I pull on. How I suddenly hateevery single item in my wardrobe. I slip something on, smooth my hair back, and crush my feet into a pair of heels.
I grimace thanks to the slice of pain down my back when I move to the door.
I’m wearing a pair of sunglasses when I open my door and find Trevino.
“You okay?” He looks a little nervous to ask.
“Considering you know every single person who comes in and out of this building”—I head to the elevators—“and you certainly know who knocks on my door, I’m fairly certain you know the answer to that.”
