Page 65 of Touch of Hate

“Yes, his name is River. Now you understand why I did what I did.”

Record scratch. “No, I don’t. I want to—you have no idea how much I want to.”

I lean in, reaching across the table for him. He’s still standing in front of the sink, though, and my gesture does nothing to bring him closer. “Ren. I’m here. I want so much to understand. I’m on your side.”

When all he does is stare blankly. What was he expecting? I ask, “What else can you tell me? What do you mean when you say my dad lied? What did he lie about?”

His jaw tightens as he lowers his brow, arms slowly folding in front of him. “He said the cult was destroyed, disbanded, whatever. But that’s obviously not true. He didn’t have what it took to stop them for good, and then he lied about it.”

“So you hurt Aspen and Q because my dad lied?”

“No. I didn’t want to hurt her. It wasn’t me at all. It was…” He sighs. “It was River.”

“River? How the hell did he get into Corium without anyone noticing?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me every little detail of his life.” My eyebrows draw together. There is something odd about the way he talks about River. Something I can’t quite put my finger on yet.

“But you knew about it?”

“Not before it happened. But I knew right after.”

“Why?” Even though his body language screams at me to back off, I can’t shut down the stream of questions bubbling up in my mind.

“Because they were getting too close.”

“Too close to what?”

Ren presses his lips into a thin line. I know he doesn’t want to talk about this, but I can’t let it go. “Let’s start at the beginning. Who is this brother of yours? Does anybody else know about him?”

“We’re not talking about him right now.”

“I’m just curious.” No, it’s more than that. We were supposed to have something real, something true, something meant to last. Yet he couldn’t tell me he has a brother? I didn’t rank high enough to hear about him? It’s the bitterness of feeling like I didn’t matter enough that makes me ask, “Where is he? Does he live nearby?”

He turns slowly away from me, opening the cabinet under the sink. “We are not talking about this. Not until I say it’s time.”

“So what do we get to talk about? I want to help you.”

“Stop asking questions then,” he mutters as he goes through whatever is under there. As if that’s important at a time like this. What, is he going to scour the sink while we talk about the cult he grew up in that I’ve never heard anything about until now? Yet another thing he couldn’t share with me.

Does this make me selfish? Maybe a little.

But I’m only human.

And there I was, thinking he was back in my life. Willing—eager—to dismiss the fact he kidnapped me, all because it means we at least get to be together. And being together is all I’ve cared about for so long.

I’ve been willing to forget that. To ignore what he did to my family.

And for what? To find out there’s so much he chose to hide?

Even now, when he’s the one who brought it up, there’s still so much I’m not good enough to hear about?

“I only want to be a part of your life,” I whisper, trembling, staring at the back of his head. What is he thinking? “Why won’t you let me in? Why are you pushing me away?”

All at once, he straightens up, swinging around to face me. “Enough!”

Sirens begin wailing in my head.

I went too far.

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