“You’re not fine.”
He inhales and walks me backward, pressing me to the vanity, his hands on either side of me. “She’s your mother, Harper. She needs you.”
“Does she? I’m not sure I know her anymore. Maybe this is what she wants.”
“Assume it’s not.”
“What if it is?”
“You’ll know. You’ll feel it when you tell her, which is why you need to tell her before someone else does. As cold as this sounds, if there was ever a time that your mother would tell you everything she knows, it’s after she finds out my father is dead. But the whole idea here is to make sure no one else ends up dead.”
“You’re right. You’re right. I have to go see her. I have to go now, I just—”
He cups my face and kisses me. “I promise you, I’m okay.”
“Your body is vibrating,” I argue, “I can almost see it. I can feel it.”
“It’s something that happens when the numbers are flying at me too fast.”
“How often?”
“Not often, but the numbers are good for me right now, Harper. They force me to see them, they consume me, while other things might if they didn’t exist.”
“They cripple you.”
“Do I look crippled?”
“Not yet, but—”
“I’m fine. He wasn’t my mother.” He gives my cheek a quick brush of fingers. “The numbers in my head will keep me sane until you can save me later when we’re alone.” He pushes off the counter and laces the fingers of one of his hands with mine, setting us in motion.
I snatch my purse as we walk, following him willingly, but my eyes pinch and burn. I didn’t like
his father, but he’s his father. He’s also dead now. That’s hard to process. That’s hard to get my mind and emotions around, but I have to be strong for Eric.
We start down the stairs and my mind is on my mother. Oh how a week changes things, even a few days. There was a time when I would have been crushed for my mother, fearful for her even, but now I don’t feel those things, and that’s painful in an entirely different way. I’ve lost her and it happened a long time ago. I just wasn’t willing to admit it.
Eric releases me by the couch and heads toward the door. I hug myself and watch as he opens the door and Savage enters the apartment. Savage who is bigger today than normal, which is a silly statement. He’s not bigger. He just feels really big and broad and towering, perhaps because all of this feels big right now.
He gives Eric a once over. “You okay?”
“I hated him,” Eric replies, almost as if he’s reminding himself of this fact, using that detail to shove aside grief.
“Like I said,” Savage repeats. “How are you?”
“Pretty fucking shitty,” Eric replies, shocking me with his honesty.
“Of course you are,” Savage says, his hand catching Eric’s shoulder. “Grayson’s on his way over here.”
Eric rejects Grayson instantly. “He needs to step back from this until we know more.”
“I thought he had a massive heart attack?” I question, hurrying to join them, looking between both men. “Is there a question about how he died?”
“The police are involved,” Savage says. “But under the circumstances, that’s expected.”
“They have no proof of murder,” I argue. “Right?”
“Nothing has changed,” Savage states. “There was no one in the room with him when he died. There was no evidence of foul play at this time. All there is that points to a problem is that hotel footage of the man we found entering his room under the guise of being an employee.”