Broken Truths (The Frayed Trilogy 2)

Before she left for work this morning, Lauren had insisted I talk to Sebastian. “Justtalkto him,” she’d said, except I had no idea how we’d be able to move past what happened.

How could I let him go after everything?

My heart thumps, trying to tell me something, and when it beats again, I know I can’t let him go. I have to try to talk to him. At the very least, he deserves to know everything. If he hasn’t already, it won’t take him long to figure it all out now.He needs to hear it from me.

Unless he’s already read your journal.The thought of him reading everything inside my journal has my stomach churning. Half of it is my version of a fantasy, but the rest? The rest is true. Every horrible thing that happened.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I text Mason, asking him to pick me up from Lauren’s before going to the bathroom and splashing some water over my tired face.

What if he doesn’t even want to see me?

Only a couple of minutes later, my phone pings with a message from Mason, and within five minutes, I’m in his car.

“You got here quick,” I say when I’m seated beside him. Whilst I haven’t mentioned anything about what happened between Sebastian and me yet, I have to wonder if he hadn’t talked to him. It would be a push for him to get to Lauren’s so quickly, even with little traffic.

“I was in the area,” he says, glancing at me. “Are you okay?”

I let out a sigh. “You talked to him?”

“Briefly. He didn’t say what happened, just that you were spending the night at Lauren’s.”

“Oh.” Lauren would have told me if she had heard from him, so maybe he tracked my phone after all. Usually, the thought would make me angry, but maybe it means he still cares. What if there’s a chance?

The rest of the drive to the office is quiet, and I spend the limited amount of time I have to figure out what I’m going to say. Mason drops me off in front of the building, then goes to park his car. The lift seems to take forever to get to the fortieth floor, and it does nothing to help me prepare for any of this.

Never having been here before, I have no idea where I’m going. When I get off the lift, I head for what looks like the main reception desk. The woman behind the desk looks up at me, and I clear my throat. “I’m here to see Sebastian. Sebastian Reed.”

She hesitates with surprise and tells me she’ll be a moment, and I wait as she speaks into her headset. I have no idea who she’s talking to, but after a minute, she says I can go on through and gives me directions on where to go.

Lauren glances up from her desk as I approach, and her eyes soften. “Hey, how are you going? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Thanks for letting me crash last night.”

“Of course, anytime. I’d love to think you’re here to visit me, but I’m guessing you’re here for Sebastian. I’m sorry, hun, but he’s out at the moment,” she says, giving me a sympathetic look. “Normally, I’d be able to tell you when he’d be back, but there was some kind of emergency he had to care of. They’ve been out all morning.”

My heart sinks with disappointment at her words.He’s not here.

Lauren must see something in my expression because she says, “If it means anything, I’m pretty sure they’ve been trying to sort it out since last night, so that could be why you haven’t heard from him.”But he spoke to Mason last night.

“Do you have any idea where he went?”

“No, I don’t, sor—”

“Miss Hall, I need the Davidson file.” My back stiffens at the voice that interrupts our conversation, and when I turn towards it, I confirm my suspicions.

Vincent.

“What are you doing here?” He bristles—his eyes narrowing at me, and the threat he gave me two weeks ago replays in my head.

“I—”

“Here’s the file, Mr. Woods,” Lauren says, holding out a blue folder with a crease in her brows.

Vincent barely glances at her before snatching the folder from her hand without so much as a thank you, and she shoots him a glare.

“I’m sorry, Grace, I don’t know where he is, but you could try calling him?” she suggests.

“You’re looking for Sebastian?” Vincent asks, focussing solely on me, but his voice is missing its usual bitterness. “He’s at the shipping yard. There was a problem with one of the ships, but I spoke with him only five minutes ago, and he’s still there,” he says when I don’t answer him, and his willingness to help has uneasiness flitting through me.