Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(51)

I gave her a half-shrug. “Hunch.”

She didn’t respond right away. In fact, for the next five minutes or so, we stared at cars driving by. Most flowed in from the direction of the highway a few blocks back. I figured the drivers were going home from their jobs in the city.

“Did Darren tell you about our mom?”

I nodded slowly as I took a swallow, then pulled the bottle from my lips. “A little.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“I didn’t want to pry.” And I got the sense he dealt with things in his own time. Logan too.

As she began to pick at the label of her bottle, I leaned back, propping my weight on my free arm. Sitting at the edge wasn’t all that dangerous, as long as one respected the need to get safely situated—and no high winds blasted us.

When she didn’t respond, I glanced at her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Her clipped tone carried bite. Then she exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

“I’m here. Anything you want to talk about, I’ll listen. No judgment. Possibly advice: if I can and you want it. And all it will cost you is…”

When I didn’t finish, she turned her head arching a brow.

I rocked my beer back and forth in my hand with a grin.

She cracked a weak smile. “Deal.”

Silence continued for the rest of my full beer. The moment I put my empty down, she grabbed a refresher, popped the cap, then handed it to me.

Not wanting to offend her, I took the cold bottle. “I have to drive, you know.”

“So don’t slam it.”

Riiight. Because I can down half a six pack and still blow under legal limit. Instead of drinking more, I propped the new bottle on my thigh, doing the responsible thing. She’d been nursing her same quarter-full beer since I’d sat down anyway.

Then, as if she’d sensed my analysis of her alcohol consumption, she chugged the rest of hers down and popped open another.

After she took a few gulps, she glanced at me. “It’s kids at school. They don’t…get me.”

I remembered high school: the struggle of fitting in, pretending not to care what everyone thought of you, swallowing down the hurt when you were the butt of their joke.

“No one got me either.” My voice quieted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Think art student. Then stretch your mind to imagine a girl trying express her art through fashion.”

She scrunched her face, as if trying to imagine it. Then her eyes slowly widened.

“Yeah.” Novelty didn’t go over well in my private school.

I didn’t want to talk about my teenaged nightmare, though. We were up on this roof for her. Staring at the faraway skyline of Downtown Philly, I watched the lights begin to glitter as night darkened.

She exhaled heavily.

I waited, taking the first sip of my second beer.

“It was my mom’s suicide.” Her voice broke at the last word. After a long exhale, then a catch in her breath, she continued, “But I’m the one paying for it.”





Darren…

“That goddamn roof,” I growled. My phone-tracking app pegged Logan there. Again.

I slammed the door and floored the truck, pissed the f*ck off. At the world. No matter what I did, my family ended up on that goddamn roof. I’d lost one. I would not lose another.

Seven-and-a-half long minutes. I’d clocked it. The time it took to get from our house to that roof took forever. Every single time.

No rhythm chattered in my head. My thumbs didn’t drum the steering wheel. Only gut-wrenching terror filled my brain, pressed down on my chest, rushed hard past my eardrums.

I skipped the building’s slow elevator and pounded up the steps. One flight. Two. Three. Four. Each passed faster and faster as adrenaline pumped, fueled by frustration and anger.

At the fifth flight, I slowed, catching my breath as I approached the final climb to the rooftop landing. She didn’t need to see my rage. I took a couple of lung-clearing breaths and paused, waiting until my pulse slowed.

There. Nice and calm. Like Logan needed me to be. Her rock. The one holding it together. As long as she believed that, everything would be okay.

Unable to wait any longer, I put my hand on the door, leaned my head down, then paused. Mild relief coursed through me when I saw the same brick propped against the doorframe. It kept the entry point two-way. Meant she’d planned to come back through it. Finally, I pushed the door open.

Then I blinked, confused at what I saw.

Two dark figures sat on that ledge.

Keeping to the shadows, I walked forward. Did this boy friend of hers—I struggled to remember his name—have long hair?

Two voices carried my way. Two girl voices.

I narrowed my eyes and came closer, moving behind the vent stacks. I didn’t feel one damn ounce of guilt for spying on Logan. She was my responsibility. And she’d promised not to come up here anymore alone. I’d meant not without me.

A gust of wind caught the other girl’s hair. She turned. Smiled.

Kiki.

My whole body shuddered from the shock of seeing her. Then relaxed just as fast, my stomach dropping, as the realization hit me.

Logan had called Kiki—not me.

I moved in front of the vent stacks, shielding myself from the wind and searching for that acoustical sweet spot from the other night. They were partially turned toward each other, their faces in profile. If I squinted, I could barely make out their features.