Page 72 of Piece You Saved

“Is that what you wanted me to have done? Flirt to distract you?”

“Yes.” The lie trips from my tongue. Instantly.

“No, you don’t.”

I part my lips to argue, but he shakes his head, his longish dark hair moving gently with the action.

“Talking about stressors and trauma is a little easier to do when a person holding a loaded gun is relaxed. Forallparties.”

“You were the one who nudged the gun closer.” Annoyance ripples through me. “And can you stop finding ways to distract me? It’s annoying.”

“You didn’t seem to appreciate me booping your nose.” He gives me a crooked smile as he scratches his hair before recrossing his arms over his chest. “Neither did that snarling friend of yours. And we were just talking. That’s all. Not my fault you let yourself get distracted into relaxing.”

That’s not true. This doctor is scarily effective at distracting me from behaving in ways I’m used to. After what I saw in the garden, I should be—and would’ve been—a mess. I should have had a panic attack. I considered running right out of the door and back to Rylan, so he wouldn’t kill anyone else because he couldn’t get to me.

Yet I did none of the things I thought I would. I sat here at this dining table with Harley, and we talked. And I felt… okay. Embarrassed about what Kade and I had done in here that he would smell, but okay. Istillfeel okay. And I shouldn’t. I turn away.

“I don’t think Kade and the others would appreciate me telling you all about their business.”

“How about I tell you some of my business first, and you can decide what to tell me,” he counters.

“You haven’t said how you tracked me down.”

“I have a friend at the hospital. He’s a paramedic,” he says. “About this dead body…?”

Of course he has friends in the hospital. I doubt he meets anyone who doesn’t immediately like him. Kade excluded.

I glance at the corner of the laptop monitor. 4 p.m. Kade must have been gone for fifteen minutes now. Maybe even longer. Why am I only just checking the time now?

Harley. That’s why. “If I can’t tell you anything?”

“Then you can’t.”

I search for signs of manipulation in his gaze but don’t see it. “What would you tell me?”

“When I was twelve, I threatened a boy on his way to school. After I stole his school bag, he gave me his lunch money, and later, gave me a place to stay, helped me apply to college, and become a doctor. That boy was Simon Trevor.”

I stare at him. “That’s a lie.”

He shakes his head. “It’s the truth.”

“People don’t just tell you things like that.” He looks like he’s telling the truth, but he can’t be.

“Maybe not,” he agrees. “But it’s the truth. You can call Simon’s parents and—”

Guilt rips through me, sharp as a blade slicing me from the inside out. Call the parents of the man who only died because of me? Parents who would have buried their son, have wondered who killed him, not knowing it was—

A gentle tap on my nose makes me startle in surprise. Harley must have sat up to do it because he’s settling back into his seat now and recrossing his arms.

I lean away from him. “You booped me.” I glare. “Again.”

“So I did.” The smile in his eyes fades. “Someone killed Simon, and that person wasn’t you. A man turned up at the hospital last night and was heading right for your friend’s room.”

My heart stutters. No, I damn near have a heart attack.

“What?” I gasp.

My hand tightens around the gun as panic floods my body. Harley hasn’t said who the man was. He doesn’t need to. I can guess.

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