Page 74 of A Game of Deception
He led me back inside, guiding me to the plush sectional sofa that dominated the living area. I sank into it gratefully, suddenly aware of how exhausted I was. Xander disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a damp cloth.
“For your face,” he explained, handing me the cloth. “Unless you want to keep the raccoon eyes. They’re actually kind of badass.”
A surprised laugh escaped me. “Very funny,” I said, accepting the cloth and gently wiping away the remnants of my mascara. “I must look a mess.”
“You look beautiful,” he said simply, sitting beside me. “You always do.”
The sincerity in his voice made my heart twist. This man who had carried the weight of my brother’s death, who had beenvilified and exiled because of my father’s lies, was looking at me like I was something precious despite it all.
“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “For believing the worst of you for so long. For not questioning the story. For?—”
“Stop,” he interrupted gently. “You were sixteen, Tara. A teenager who’d just lost her brother. You believed what the adults around you told you to believe. That’s not your fault.”
I shook my head, not ready to absolve myself so easily. “I wasn’t that young. I should have known better. I should have questioned it.”
“Why would you?” he asked. “Everyone believed the same thing. It was the accepted truth. And I never denied it, did I? I said it was my fault. I believed it was.”
“But it wasn’t,” I insisted. “At least, not the way everyone thought.”
He was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the city lights beyond the windows. “We still don’t know exactly what happened that night,” he said finally. “Not for certain. But we’re getting closer.”
I thought about the file I’d found, the reaction I’d seen in my father’s eyes. And then, my mind flashed to Diego—his unwanted touches, his persistent advances, the way my father had shoved him at me like a weapon. But I pushed the thought away. No need to mention that to Xander. No need to stir up unnecessary drama when we had enough real battles to fight. “Yes,” I agreed. “We are.”
19
XANDER
The air was filledwith the smell of garlic and cumin as we chilled at an outdoor table in Little Havana. Miami’s perfect twilight blue hung above us, with strings of lights zigzagging between buildings. A three-piece band cranked out tunes in the patio corner—guitar strums and bongo beats backing our dinner conversation.
“So this loaded collector… who just dropped twenty grand on Chloe’s installation… asks her if the piece is ‘supposed to be ironic,’” Tara said, leaning in with her elbows on the table, wineglass in hand.
Chloe rolled her eyes hard. “I told him art isn’t a fucking riddle. It either speaks to you or it doesn’t.”
“What did he say to that?” Leo asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“He bought another piece,” Chloe replied with a grin. “For thirty thousand.”
Leo howled with laughter, raising his mojito. “To bullshitting the wealthy!”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said, clinking my glass against his.
This night felt almost normal. Just four friends out eating, drinking, and laughing. It was hard to imagine such en evening after the recent shit-storm of Tara confronting her father, and the growing certainty we’d been played. But we’d promised to forget all that for one evening. To breathe. To remember what it felt like to just be people, not chess pieces in Hank Swanson’s game.
Watching Leo and Chloe across the table, I noticed their easy vibe. At first, Leo questioned inviting Tara’s bestie to dinner, but I thought they connected instantly. Same smart ass humor, same talent for spotting life’s absurdities.
“You know,” I whispered to Tara as Leo and Chloe launched into a heated debate about whether a banana duct-taped to a wall counted as art, “I think they’re hitting it off quite well.”
Tara turned to me, eyebrows shooting up. “Leo and Chloe?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, glancing their way. “They’ve been flirting all night.”
She stared at me, then erupted into laughter so explosive that Leo and Chloe paused mid-argument to look over.
“What’s so funny?” Leo asked.
“Nothing,” Tara managed, wiping tears. “Inside joke.”
They shrugged and resumed their debate. Tara leaned close, voice hushed.
