Page 100 of Twisted Hearts

“Yes, but whyyou.”

She frowns and looks at me curiously before smiling sarcastically. “I guess you didn’t dig quite deep enough when you were prying into my past.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

Eilish rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, is this really what you wanted to ask me about? Why you brought me out tonight? Because if I’d known the agenda for the evening, I’d have done something more fun, like slamming my head repeatedly against a brick wall.”

“We’re getting to the reason for tonight,” I growl. “But I need some things cleared up first.”

Like why Harrison is reaching out specifically to the Kildares. And, more importantly, why that little fuck Brooks had his goddamn hand on Eilish when I walked into the bar that night.

Why he looked way,waytoo cozy and familiar with her.

“Do you two have a history.”

I almost don’t want to hear the answer. Because it may force me to go out and level half the city on my way to finding Brooks so I can break him in two.

Eilish pales, her eyes getting a scared, haunted look in them that makes my hackles raise.

“I…” she looks down at her hands. “We used to go out. In high school.”

I seered.

“Did you now,” I snarl quietly. Eilish isn’t even looking at me. She’s still staring at her hands as they twist the white linen tablecloth in front of her, this faraway, cold look still in her eyes.

“It…” her throat bobs. “It wasn’t good.” Her eyes raise to mine. “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, just know that I fuckinghateBrooks McKinnley, end of story.”

“Did you two ever—”

“No.”

Her voice is pure venom and her eyes lethal slits. “No. You already know, I was a virgin. You were there when that changed. Or don’t you remember?” she hisses sarcastically.

“Look,” I growl. “I’m only asking because—”

“Can wenottalk about this?!” she blurts, standing abruptly. “Like, can we please talk about literallyanythingelse?”

I go still. Then I nod.

“Of course.”

For now. But now there are SEVERAL pieces of information I will either drag out of you or beat out of him.

She turns, about to head for the door.

“Eilish.”

She whirls back, glaring at me. I raise a hand, crooking two fingers. Instantly, I can see the defiance making her eyes blaze like two flames. I can also see the heat in her cheeks, and the way her lip catches in her teeth.

“Come here.”

She stares at me coolly, her arms folded as she stands halfway between the table and the door, her hip cocked.

“Please. Come.”

I crook my fingers again. This time, she drifts over, still glaring at me. When she’s standing right next to me, I push my chair back and pat the tablecloth in front of me.

“Sit.”

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