Page 75 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
The officer’s look soured. I forged ahead, getting desperate. “My name is Katherine Reid. Nico and I did a video together, the one that was just released. Have you seen it?”
No answer. He didn’t look impressed. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of rock music.
“Please just call. Tell him Kat is here. He’ll let me in.”
I must have sounded more sure than I felt, because after another moment of silent inspection, the officer straightened and returned to his squad car. He conferred briefly with the officer from the other car, then retrieved a phone from his dashboard. He dialed, watching me.
The conversation was short. When I saw the officer’s expression, my heart sank. He walked leisurely back to my car, his hand resting lightly on the butt of the gun strapped to the belt around his waist. He leaned into the window. I closed my eyes, defeated.
Nico didn’t want to see me. He’d turned me away.
“All right, Kat. Up you go.”
Luckily the officer straightened then, because all the blood drained from my face. God only knows what he would have thought of that.
The gate swung slowly open. I waited until there was just enough room, then revved the engine and blasted past it, roaring up the hill at top speed until I reached the circular gravel drive. I narrowly missed destroying the fountain at its center in my haste.
The house was dark. I slid to a stop, inches from the hedge that flanked the steps to the front door. I was out of the car, across the porch, and ringing the bell in seconds. Then I realized the door was already open. Literally open, cracked a few inches, not only unlocked. Filled with trepidation, I pushed it open wider and stepped inside, into darkness.
“Nico?” My voice echoed off the walls. There was no response. I began to panic. “Nico, where are you?”
I crossed the empty living room. The dining room was empty as well, as was the kitchen, the theater, the recording studio. I took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, not bothering with the elevator. I couldn’t be trapped inside an elevator at a time like this. As it was, I could hardly breathe.
Past the guest rooms, past the library, past the game room I hurried. When finally I stood outside Nico’s closed bedroom door, I was trembling, freaked out, and not at all sure of what I’d find on the other side. A sliver of light spilled from beneath the door, beckoning me.
I turned the knob. The door swung open on silent hinges. There he was, seated on the edge of his bed, staring at the carpet, his hands clenched in his hair, elbows propped on his knees.
“Nico,” I whispered.
Slowly, as if it pained him to move, he lifted his head and looked at me. His eyes were red. His cheeks were wet. If I’d thought I’d gone through hell on the way over, Nico’s face proved he was still there.
“You’re here.” His voice was a lifeless, terrible thing. He sounded as if he were speaking from beyond the grave.
I went to him. He watched me, making no move to stand. When I was a foot away, he reached for me. His face crumpled. He slid from the bed to his knees, holding me around the waist, and buried his face between my thighs like a hiding child. He made a sound like he was choking. Feeling helpless, not knowing what else to do, I stroked his hair.
“I’m here. Nico, I’m here.”
His shoulders shook. His fingers clenched into the fabric of my shirt. I heard him gasping. It seemed like he was trying desperately to hold himself together and failing in every possible way.
I knew this kind of grief. I recognized it like you recognize the face of an old friend you haven’t seen in many years, but could never forget. I’d suffered through it before, and now Nico was suffering it over the death of Avery.
My God, how he must have loved her. I was ashamed at myself for wishing, however briefly, he might have loved me the same way.
I said his name again. Still kneeling, he looked up at me. In one long, shuddering breath, he said, “She was raped by her father almost every day from the time she was eight years old until she left home at fourteen. Eight years old, Kat. Can you blame her for gettin’ into drugs? Can you blame her for bein’ so fucked up?”
Goose bumps raised all the hairs on my arms. I stared down at the beautiful ruin at my feet, shocked into silence.
“She tried her whole life to get it behind her. But how can you escape somethin’ like that? A betrayal like that? You can’t.” His voice broke. “Even when she was little I knew this day would come. Even after what I did to make it right.” He swayed, clinging to me.
Beyond my confusion, I felt the first, cold pangs of fear arrow through my chest. “You knew her when she was little? What do you mean—make it right?”
Nico’s eyes were glazed with fatigue, red with tears, filled with unbearable anguish. But oh, so blue. So sweetly, beautifully blue I almost didn’t believe what next came out of his mouth.
“I killed him. I killed that son of a bitch and then we ran away and I never looked back, not once in all these years.”
Frozen, I stared at Nico, my mouth open, my heart a stone inside my chest. A stone that shattered with his next whispered words:
“She was my sister.”
