Page 9 of Dark Tangled Truths
My mind feels foggy. I try to wake up to think clearly, but the room is dark, and he’s so warm beneath me. There’s something he was talking about. Something I needed to ask. I want to understand his reasoning.
Oh, yeah...
“Do you really think Brandt is involved in what happened?” I ask.
Damon releases his breath and rubs his hand over my back. “He mentioned both Chase and Olivia at the party. It’s like he was whispering in their ears about what they needed to do this year. Meaning you and me, respectively. The way he was talking felt like he was trying to get into my head too.”
“Mmm, sounds like Iago.”
“Iago?” He rubs my back soothingly.
“The manipulative character inOthellowho causes everyone’s death.” I release my breath, not really thinkingabout what I’m saying. “That’s who Chase wanted to be. His machinations are what drive the plot. His jealousy over Cassio...” I sigh, and the bed drags me into it.
“Sleep, little devil.” Damon pulls me in tight against his warmth, keeping me safe.
I touch his face with my good hand and pat his cheek. “You’re a good boyfriend.”
He chuckles and takes my hand to rest it on his chest. His finger trails over my fingers and the ring.
“You moved your ring.” Damon’s voice is soft.
I lift my left hand in front of my face. Not that I can see it in the dark, but I imagine the weak light casting shadows glints off it. “My right hand was swelling. Seemed like the thing to do at the time. I could move it back now, probably.”
“You don’t need to, little devil.” He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckle above the ring. “I like my claim on you.”
My heart spins happy and warm as I burrow against him. “I like your claim on me too.”
Hawk
I walk into the kitchen unclear on what to expect. The last time both of my parents had been home at the same time, the house felt cold and hostile. The silence was like a presence hanging over all of us.
But Dad said they wanted to talk this morning. Part of me hopes this is it. When they stop everything and figure out their shit, divorce and find something happy in their lives. I’m not naive enough to believe they should continue being together just for me. If they don’t love each other anymore, it’s time to let go.
We’ll figure it out, but avoiding each other isn’t helping anything.
I don’t normally seek my parents out when they’re home. We text so they know what I’m up to, and I know where they are usually. It’s not like they completely neglect me, but I’m self-sufficient.
Tonight, I’m exhausted from what happened with Annie, and I just want to crash. But I need to get this over with.
The sound of voices floats down the hallway from the family room. It’s odd to hear both my father’s and mother’s voices interwoven. The split happened so gradually I barely noticed when I started to hear only one voice at a time.
When one of them was home, the other was almost always gone. As a child, they were around more. Both travelled for work, but they usually found time to spend together and with me. I can’t say when things changed, just that I was independent enough and trustworthy enough to leave on my own at some point.
I stop and lean in the doorway. Mom has her hair pulled back into a loose bun. She’s wearing loungewear pants and a drapey top, a glass of red wine lifted to her lips. Dad sits relaxed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. His lips are curved into a smug smile, and he dangles his lowball glass of scotch on the rocks in his fingertips.
Mom notices me first. Smiling, she sets down her glass on the end table. “Hawk!”
When she stands, she wobbles just a little. Dad casually puts his hand on her hip to stabilize her. She puts her hand over his and her smile softens as their eyes meet.
I go still as I watch. Because this doesn’t look like a couple on the verge of divorce. There’s a warmth I haven’t seen between them in years right now. It’s almost fucking... cozy. I swallow and wait.
Mom straightens and comes over to me, pulling me into her arms.
“My boy.” She runs her hand over my hair and stares up into my eyes with a smile. “How are you, my love?”
I glance at my dad, who takes a sip of his drink and waits for my answer. “Good.”
Mom steps back. “Your father said you had your girlfriend over last night.”
