“This isn’t over,” Max said as I walked to the door. He’d wrestled his outward fury under control, but his eyes shone with anger and panic. I assumed his “friends” wouldn’t be too happy about him losing the painting. “You think you solved all your problems just because you got rid of the tape and took back the painting? You’re still a liar and a whore. Eventually, your boyfriend will figure it out and toss you aside the way everyone does. The way I’d planned to do before you snuck off in the middle of the night like a coward.”
I stopped in the doorway. Max was pushing every button he could find. Some of it I brushed off; others peeled the scabs off healing wounds until they bled again.
Sweat dampened my palms at the prospect of Josh finding out what happened.
“Maybe I’ll nudge the process along. Give the good doctor a heads up on who, exactly, broke into his house. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the truth.” The poison from Max’s words dripped into my veins.
Kage’s low growl rumbled through the air. He stepped toward the other man, but I held out my arm to stop him.
This wasn’t his fight.
“Actually, Max it is over.” The bag strap slipped against my palms. “You don’t have the tape. You don’t have evidence of anything that happened in Ohio. If you did, you would’ve used it already. And you can try to tell Josh, but he’s not going to believe you over me. You have nothing.”
Max paled. He curled his hands into fists, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Without the armor of blackmail, he looked small. Weak, like the Wizard of Oz after the curtain was pulled back.
A strange, unexpected seed of sympathy sprouted in my stomach. For all the terrible things he’d done, Max had saved me when my mom kicked me out. Granted, he’d pulled me into a life I was less than proud of, but without him, I might’ve ended up homeless.
I would still cut his balls off if I had the chance, but he was right. I did owe him. Not money or my body, but some acknowledgment of our shared history that would allow me to walk away for good with a clear conscience.
“I’m sorry you spent all those years in jail,” I said. “Seven years is a long time, and I understand why you’re angry. But you’re out now, and it’s a chance for a fresh start. Don’t get sucked into your old life any more than you already have.” I swallowed hard. “It’s easy to get caught up in old habits and hurts, but you’ll never be happy chasing things that no longer exist. It’s time to move on from the past. I did.”
I walked out, leaving Max red-faced and alone in his hotel room.
My mind tumbled with a thousand thoughts as Kage and I rode the elevator down to the lobby.
It’s time to move on from the past. I did.
Except I hadn’t, not really.
I’d planned to plant the stolen items back in Josh’s house and leave him to figure out why the burglar would do such a thing. But if I did that, my lies would always be an albatross around my neck. Even if Josh never found out what happened, I would know. Every time he kissed me, every time he smiled at me, I would know I was keeping something from him, and it would eat me, and eventually us, alive.
How could you build a relationship on a foundation of lies?
The answer: you couldn’t.
The elevator doors opened. I walked through the lobby, barely noticing the ugly orange carpet and threadbare sofas.
Moving on from the past didn’t mean burying it beneath a new foundation and hoping no one found it; it meant exposing the ugliness to the light and taking responsibility.
You couldn’t heal from something if you didn’t acknowledge it.
As Kage and I stepped out of the hotel, my thoughts crystallized into clarity.
I knew what I had to do.
I had to tell Josh the truth.
JOSH
“You’re in a remarkably good mood.”Clara cocked an amused eyebrow as I signed out from my shift. “Does the reason begin with a J and rhyme with rules?”
“Cannot confirm or deny,” I said, practically whistling.
Last week’s burglary aside, I’d had a damn good week. I’d put Michael behind me, Alex and I were on our way to being real friends again, and work had been relatively easy. For the ER, that meant no patient deaths and no mass casualty incidents, though there had been a nasty case involving an idiot with a blowtorch.
Plus, Jules’s bar exam was next week, which meant we could finally go on real dates again soon.
I already had our first post-bar date planned: a weekend trip to New York to see a special limited-time revival of Legally Blonde: The Musical, sandwiched between lots of good food and even more sex.
I’d have to trade shifts again to make the weekend happen, and it was expensive as hell on a resident’s salary, but Jules deserved it. Getting through the bar was a big deal.
“Fine. Don’t tell me, but I can guess.” Clara rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “One of these days, you’ll have to confirm your relationship, or the other nurses won’t stop hounding you about dating.”
“I’ll confirm after you admit your relationship with Tinsley is serious.” I smiled at her scowl. She’d been dating Tinsley for months and still refused to make it official. And people said I had commitment problems. “That’s what I thought.”
“Goodbye, Dr. Chen,” she said pointedly.
I laughed and waved before I left.
I’d scheduled drinks with Alex for tonight, but that wasn’t for another four hours. I had time for a shower and a quick nap, maybe a bit of New York research. I read about a dessert place there that reportedly served incredible salted caramel ice cream.
I typed in the security code when I arrived at my house and pushed the door open. One of the first things I did after the break-in was install a home security system. Alex recommended it, so I assumed it was good.
Well, it was the tenth one he recommended. The first nine were expensive as shit, but at least this one cracked his top ten.
I was already half asleep by the time I finished my shower, but the sound of the doorbell jolted me awake.
I threw on a pair of sweatpants and answered the door. Pleasant surprise filtered through me when I saw Jules standing on the front step.
“Hey, Red.” I greeted her with a cocky grin. “Can’t stay away from me, huh? Don’t blame you.” I gestured at myself. “Look at all this.”
I was still shirtless from the shower, and I didn’t want to brag or anything, but my abs were a fucking work of art.
“If I knew you had company, I would’ve waited,” she said dryly. She was carrying a large portfolio bag, which was strange, since she didn’t draw. Maybe she went shopping earlier. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your weekly lovefest with your ego.”
“Daily,” I corrected. “Self-love is critical to maintaining one’s self-esteem. But you’re hot, so you’re allowed to interrupt.” I drew her inside and kicked the door closed behind us before planting a kiss on her lips. “Here for a study break?”
“Um, sort of.” Jules tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking unusually nervous.
“Well, don’t take too long of a break. As happy as I am to see you, I want you to kick ass on this exam.” Anticipation zipped down my spine. “I have a surprise for you after it’s over.”
“Can’t wait.”
I frowned at her subdued response. Normally, she’d be hounding me about what the surprise was until I caved. “You okay?”
“Yes. No. I mean, I have something to tell you.” She drew in a long breath without meeting my eyes. “It’s about the painting the burglar stole.”
“Okay…” I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not making me buy that painting we saw online the other day, are you? The one of the dogs playing poker? Because it’s cool and all, but there must be a thousand other people who own it.”
“No.” Her laugh sounded forced. “Actually, it’s a funny story. I have the painting. The one you’re missing.”
Confusion drew my brows together. “You found a print of it?”
“No.” Jules fiddled with her bag. “The real thing. The one stolen from your room.”
My smile slipped, and foreboding settled over my skin like a layer of frost. How the fuck did she get the painting when the police couldn’t even find a lead?
“What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering, Jules slowly unzipped the portfolio bag and withdrew the painting.
I stared at it blankly.
There it was, in all its brown and green glory. I’d never realized how condescending it was. The painting smirked at me, its taunt a singsong voice in my head.
I know something you don’t. And you’re not going to like it when you find out…
“That’s not all.” Jules’s voice shook so violently she sounded like a distorted version of herself.
My foreboding hardened into icy disbelief when she reached into her purse and retrieved three additional items.
My watch. My iPad. My rolled-up wad of emergency cash.
No.
She set them on the coffee table, the tremble in her hands matching the one in her voice.
No, no, no.
“Tell me you hunted down the thief and recovered those items.” I barely heard myself over the roar in my ears. “Tell me the burglar had a crisis of conscience and dropped those items on my porch when I was in the shower and you found them. Dammit, Jules, tell me something!”
Something other than the suspicion winding its way around my throat and choking off my air.