Page 82 of Ugly Truths
If William’s desperate enough to come after my allies, there’s no telling what he’s feeding the rest. Beyond the board, if word gets out that Scarlett is back in town, it could reach ears I don’t want it to—like Peter's.
“Looks like I have a lot of calls to make,” I muse, forcing a joking edge to my tone.
“Let me know if you need anything in the meantime,” he concludes as he shuffles papers on the other end of the line.
My tongue glides over the front of my teeth. “Thanks, E,” I reply, and end the call.
As I slide the phone back into my pocket, silence closes in, the heat claws beneath my skin. I brace myself against the cool metal of a utility rack and focus on my breathing. If I step out now and Luis so much as glances my way, I might just hurl him into the servers.
Each time I think William has hit rock bottom, he grabs a shovel and digs deeper. I’ve witnessed this behavior from the sidelines more times than I can count, but being on the receiving end of it is a wholly different story.
The disagreements and arguments over the years were par for the course. Not everyone will align with my vision, and I accept that. But what’s happening now beyond anything he’s ever said or done before. This is a direct attack on the future I've been meticulously groomed for. The essence of my career at Wells.
All being orchestrated by the man who made sure I ended up here.
As these thoughts fuse, something simmers low in my gut. It’s acidic. Corrosive. Eating away at my insides and demanding more.
Hatred.
The word enters my brain before I can stop it. And it’s aimed at one of the people I never thought I’d feel it toward, in this lifetime or any other.
Chapter 33
Elena
Silas stands beside me on the small front porch of an old craftsman house, the glow from the porch light casting a warm halo around us. Gripping the handles of the tinfoil-covered casserole dish a little too tightly, I glance up at him.
“Thank you,” I say, breaking the silence, “for coming with me.”
His response is a small smile, eyes meeting mine through the reflection on his glasses. He reaches for the dish again for the third time since we left the car and walked under the streetlights to the front steps. I angle it away, narrowing my eyes at him. Silas sighs and presses the doorbell instead before placing a hand on my lower back.
A bicycle hides against the far wall, and three different-sized potted mums crowd one edge of the door. The neighboring homes, which stand only a few feet apart, are also alight with lamps and evening routines.
“There's nothing to thank me for,” Silas finally replies, his fingers sneaking under the edge of my jacket, warm against my shirt.
Before I can respond, the door swings open, flooding us with light. Jeff stands there, casual in jeans and a black t-shirt. He smiles and reaches for the casserole without hesitation. I let him take it.
“Hey guys, come in.”
We walk directly into the living room, and the familiarity is almost eerie, though they've rearranged some of the furniture. The longer, brick-colored couch now sits under the window on the far wall, and the smaller, leather one is closer to the door. They both face the kitty-cornered television.
I’d spent many afternoons in the prone position on that smaller couch, propped up against pillows while Jeff flipped through the channels. He’d always stop on some nature documentary and tell me about his upbringing while it played in the background.
His parents were good but poor, though the “good” didn’t stop him from falling into the wrong crowd. More than a few of those run-ins ended in bloody noses. The corners of his lips twitched when he asked me if that reminded me of anyone I knew. I rolled my eyes so hard I’m not sure how they didn’t get stuck.
He grew up a few blocks from here, and this house had been slowly falling apart for years until it was finally condemned when he was a young adult. Somehow, he got it in his head he’d buy it and fix it up one day. All of it was a fantasy, of course, but he liked to daydream about it. It wasn’t until he started dating Lauren after meeting at martial arts class that he realized it was possible.
To no one’s surprise, she helped him get his act together, especially when she told him she couldn’t marry someone content to coast through life, taking whatever side jobs he could find.
After that, Jeff had his eye on the prize. Within a year, he somehow talked an investor to helping him get the gym up and running. Right before the third year, he had paid back the loan and was ring shopping. By year five, they were married, and this house was in their names. They renovated it for two years and have lived here ever since.
A small fire crackles in the fireplace, an ambiance Jeff didn’t stop talking about missing in the summer months. It’s no surprise that he’d take advantage of the first truly cool night of the season.
The antique coffee table is laid out with cheese and crackers. Jeff nods towards the couches as he heads towards the hallway on the far side of the staircase. “I’ll be back in a second. Toss your coats over the banister,” he says, then pauses. “Your text said four-twenty for twenty minutes, right?”
Silas chuckles when Jeff departs without an answer and helps me out of my coat. I thank him with a smile and hang our coats asinstructed.
On the other side of the room, Lauren emerges from the cased opening that leads into the dining area, her blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun. She wipes her hands against a dish towel that hangs lazily on the shoulder of her light blue sweater, and my heart stops beating.
