Chapter 128
Chapter 128
-Hailey-
Logan’s eyes were locked on mine.
There was no anger in them, but I kind of wished there was.
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Because instead of anger, I saw certainty. I knew he was piecing the puzzle together, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
My throat went completely dry. I could still feel the phantom buzz in my back pocket.
“Give me your phone, Hailey.”
His voice was low. Quiet. Calm. It was worse than yelling.
My hand felt like a foreign object as I brought it to my pocket.
My fingers touched the top edge of my phone, and for one insane, rebellious second, I considered shaking my head. Denying it. Pretending I hadn’t heard anything.
But there was no point.
I moved slowly. My heartbeat was frantic. A wild rhythm that screamed *run, lie, do something*.
I pulled it out.
My thumb found the power button. The screen came to life, and a text notification glowed at the top.
My breath hitched. For a microsecond, my world narrowed to that strip of light, braced for the unknown number. For the words that would end everything.
But the name wasn’t unknown. It was a name I knew.
Abby.
The air left my lungs in a rush I couldn’t control. My shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch before my brain caught up and screamed at me to *stop, stand up straight, they’re both watching you*.
I forced the tension back into my shoulders, trying to make the motion look like a casual shift in posture.
The text preview was visible below her name.
*
Hey, just checking in. You seemed… *
I didn’t need to see the rest. *You seemed off. You seemed scared. You’re worrying me.*
I held the phone out to him. By some miracle, my hand was steady as a rock.
- my hand was st
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Chapter 128
He took it from me and his fingers brushed against mine. The contact was electric and cold.
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He didn’t look away from my face as his thumb swiped the notification open. His eyes were reading me, and the phone screen was just confirmation of what he already suspected.
He glanced down. I watched him read the message. I saw his jaw flex. The slight furrow in his brow.
He was dissecting it. Looking for a code. A hidden meaning. A sign that this was a cover.
He saw my sister’s concern. And that’s all it was.
After staring at it for an eternity, he handed the phone back to me. The gravity in the room shifted.
“She’s worried about you, too,” he said.
The words were simple. A statement of fact. But they hit me like a pitchfork to the chest.
Too.
The unspoken words were heavier than anything he actually said.
You’re worrying me. You’re worrying her. Your weird behavior, your secrets, the fear you can’t quite hide it’s a ripple effect. It’s touching everyone who cares about you.
The guilt was eating through the fragile relief like acid. It wasn’t just a text from Abby. It was proof of the damage I was causing.
I gave him a small, tight nod. Because what else was there to do? Apologizing would be an admission of guilt.
I looked down at the phone in my hand. “I’ll just… tell her I’m fine,” I murmured feebly.
I started typing. My thumbs felt huge and stupid on the touchscreen. I could feel the weight of Logan’s eyes on me. He was watching intently. Auditing. Assessing the speed of my reply, my breathing, my facial expression.
* I’m fine, Abs, don’t worry about me… I’ll fill you in later. Promise. *
A promise I had no idea how I’d keep.
I hit send before I could overthink it and make myself feel worse.
The message whooshed away into the digital ether. I shoved the phone deep into my pocket.
Logan watched the entire thing with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave me a slow, deliberate nod. It wasn’t approval. It was acknowledgment.
The performance was over, for now.
“C’mon,” he said. His voice had lost its edge. He reached for my hand again. “The roof. Let’s go see what we can see.”
Chapter 128
(07.
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I let him pull me toward the door. My boots scuffed against the floorboards. Each step toward the exit felt like a gulp of fresh air. He was buying it. He was going to check the roof, and I would be with him, and we would be away from this room. Out from under Anatoly’s eye.
He turned the knob and the door swung inward a few inches. Cooler air rushed in from the corridor.
And then he stopped.
He didn’t open it any further. He didn’t step through.
He stood there with his back to me, and I watched the tension ratchet back into his shoulders.
With a sudden, violent motion, he slammed the door shut.
I jumped, startled. My heart leaped into my throat.
Before I could process it, his hand shot out and slammed the deadbolt home.
He turned around slowly to face me. The look in his eyes was different now. The weariness was gone. The suspicion was back, heavier than before.
He dropped my hand.
We were locked in. And he was between me and the only way out.
He didn’t move. He just stood there, a barricade of muscle and leather and rage. His eyes pinned me to the spot.
When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. Logan was gone. It was just me, and the Warriors VP, and the accusation he was about to lob at me.
“Have you been talkin‘ to him?”
The *him* didn’t need a name. It hung in the air between us like a ghost.
My mouth went dry. I took a step back, then another.
A retreat. A confession in itself.
“Talking to who?” I asked, but I almost choked on the words. I couldn’t look at him. My eyes dropped to the floor, to the scuff marks on the toe of his boot. Anything was better than the disappointed fire in his eyes.
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t play dumb with me, Hailey. I saw you. You froze. You went white. You’ve been jumpy all goddamn day, sneaking around, lying to everyone. Now I’m asking you again. Have. You. Been. Talking. To. Him.”
My mind was frantic. Scrambling. Sifting through weak defenses, pathetic excuses.
But the words wouldn’t form. He’d seen right through all of it. He’d already seen the core of it.
I opened my mouth to let out a half–formed denial that would never hold up, and-
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Chapter 128
My pocket buzzed again.
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A jolt of pure, undiluted terror electrocuted my nervous system. My head snapped up and my eyes went wide, finally meeting his.
This was it. This was the text that would end me. Anatoly, texting right on cue. I knew he’d been watching this whole interaction. Probably with a bowl of popcorn.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
Sure enough, it was a text from an unknown number.
I started to see stars around the edges of my vision, like I might pass out.
I didn’t even see Logan move. One second he was by the door, the next his hand was on mine, prying the phone out of my fingers.
His thumb smeared across the screen to open the text.
He stared at the notification, and a profound, confused frown etched itself onto his face.
He looked up at me, his green eyes searching mine. “Who the hell is Shawn?”
I let out a loud, sharp, exasperated laugh.
Shawn.
Not an unknown number.
Not Anatoly.
Shawn.
The sheer, absurd, horrifying coincidence of it stole the air from my lungs.
My mind flashed back to a sun–drenched kitchen in my hometown. The morning after a drunken night. A whiteboard on a fridge. Me, scribbling my number as an afterthought. A pathetic peace offering to a kind man I was about to abandon.
*If you ever need anything. That was the message I’d left him.
The irony was so thick I could choke on it.
Logan was staring at me, waiting for an answer. His suspicion had found a new, unexpected scent to track.
Shawn. A name he didn’t know. A man from a part of my life he had no map for.
A crossroads appeared in front of me, and the path to the right was paved with the easy lie.
He’s nobody. It’s nothing. Just an old friend. We’ve been chatting recently and I wasn’t sure how you’d react. That’s why I was jumpy.
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Chapter 128
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I could use Shawn as a shield. A scapegoat to explain my behavior and deflect the nuclear truth. It would be so simple.
The path to the left would have me stepping off a cliff.
The hard truth. About my communication with Anatoly. About the camera in the rafters and the threats. against everyone I loved.
It would detonate everything in this room.
It would confirm every one of Logan’s worst fears.
I could keep lying to him, or I could burn everything down.
I didn’t know which one would hurt less.
His eyes narrowed, reading the war on my face. “Hailey…”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
