Page 52 of Damaged Hearts

My heart is still pounding against my ribs when I pull my car into a parking spot next to Xander’s apartment, but it speeds up when I see Gillian leaning against her car, holding something in her hand, staring at it almost nostalgically. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention from the unnatural expression across her face.

“Gilly?” I step out of the car clutching my keys between my fingers, and her bright blue eyes meet mine, a nervous smile surfacing across her face. I fold my arms across my chest and level her with a look. “What is it?”

She lets out an anxious breath. “Xander’s mom is Davina Devereax?” she asks as if she didn’t hear Chad say what I heard. What does this have to do with anything?

“Do you know her or something?”

Gillian’s eyebrows lift, almost making her look psychotic, and she quirks her head to the side. “You don’t remember, do you?” she presses, astonishment across her face.

“Remember? Remember what?”

My sister steps close to me and extends the picture in her hand to me. I cautiously take the photo paper out of her grasp and flip it over, taking in the old photograph.

After a moment of scanning the image, heat rises across the back of my scalp, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

The photo in my hand is a group photo from our early childhood. We’re probably five or six years old, which explains why I don’t remember this photo. I see the baby bump on my mother’s stomach, indicating she’s pregnant with Ivan in this picture and her friend has a similar bump.

I look closely at the photograph, making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, but there’s no doubt in my mind.

“Davina?”

My gaze shoots up to Gillian who nods.

“She and Mom are friends?” This is insane. It can’t be possible. The world can’t be this small.

“They were best friends in high school. Right after the photo was taken, Dad forced Mom to stop hanging out with her. He threatened to divorce her if she didn’t so you know Mom. Nothing matters more than her image. She abandoned Davina, but you took it harder than anyone else.” Even as she says this, I can’t help noticing that her eyes aren’t dry.

“Why do you say that?”

Gillian smirks sadly. “Look at yourself in the picture. What are you doing?”

I look back at the photo and find myself sitting on a step in front of my mother with my arms wrapped around one belonging to a boy, one much older than me. Brown hair, honey hazel eyes, and a serious scowl across his cute little face. A face so familiar to me.

“Xander?” I look back to my sister and she shrugs, crossing her arms.

“Do you know any of Davina’s other kids that are the right age to be that boy?”

No. Davina only has Xander and his little brother, Austin, but his brother is the same age Ivan would be if he was still alive. This little boy in the photo must be Xander. There’s no other choice, but it begs the question. Why the hell didn’t Xander tell me about this?

Does he not remember either or does he just not know that I’m that little girl clinging to him in this picture?

“Can I keep this?” I ask, mildly nervous to ask.

“Of course. It has way more meaning for you than it does for me. It’s kind of cute though." She doesn't elaborate on what she means, but I can guess.

I tuck the picture into the pocket of my hoodie and give myself a few minutes to relax before trying to figure out what to do with this new information.

* * *

"What the hell happened!"Xander's voice booms and he hurries over to me, anxiety written all over his face.

For the briefest of moments, I don't know what to say, genuinely confused by what he's talking about, but then he takes my face in his hands and examines my cheek.

Right. The cut from Chad's knife. After the whole thing with Chad revealing he's Xander's cousin and the picture Gillian gave me, I completely forgot about the mark Chad left on my face.

"Compliments of The Reapers. Blame yourself, grumpy cat. Apparently, you and your guys weren’t very good at covering your tracks. They were basically just waiting for her to come back for the car.” Gillian’s face is full of teasing, but everything she says is true. I don’t blame Xander, though. It is all on Browning’s shoulder. I doubt he would feel bad about what he did, though.

“God-fucking-dammit!” The growl that Xander emits is inhuman at the very least, a sound I’ve never heard him make. His usually bright eyes are dark as night, his expression animalistic at best.

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