Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(88)

“I knew him. Not well, but I knew him. He was attending UK on scholarship and I’ll tell you, that boy had fire. He played basketball, but you could tell that it was a means to an end for him.” Paul’s voice was soft, faraway.

She could all but feel the memories he’d lost himself to. “We didn’t get to be friends in school. I was older, focused on finishing law school. He was taking more classes than most kids his age, playing ball. He had his hands full. But he found my name when he was looking for a lawyer to handle his estate, should he need it. We got to be friends then. He came from nothing, your dad. Grew up in a trailer park in Louisville. His dad was a drunk. His mother wasn’t much better. He’d lose himself in school, in the library . . . all he wanted was to make something more of himself . . . for himself. Then you came along, and all that focus shifted to you.”

Her throat went tight. She knew so little about him. Yes, she’d dug around as she’d gotten older, found some information that was public. She’d known he’d played basketball in college, knew he’d gotten through college on a sports scholarship. But the rest, all those personal details—as young as she’d been, she’d never known things like that.

She swallowed around the ache inside. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve got the same kind of drive your dad had, Ka . . . Keelie. You’re his daughter. You found your center. You were a scared kid. And you tried. Don’t ever forget that. You tried.”

It wasn’t enough.

But she had to get past that.

It was time to start blaming the ones responsible—her stepbrother, who was still a monster under the skin, and his parents, for hiding who, and what, he was.


*

A day rolled by.

Then another.

Zane was back in New Mexico, talking with the Realtor. The couple who’d made the offer wanted to buy. Zane had to get the rest of the stuff out, handle a few more things.

And deal with the Realtor.

“I think we should have pushed for—”

Zane dragged his thoughts away from Keelie. “No. I wanted it done.” Turning his head, he met the Realtor’s bland brown eyes. What was the guy’s name? Zane should know it—he did know it, he thought. But just then, he couldn’t think of it. All he could really think of was Keelie.

Getting back to Tucson. Waiting for her.

Brooding when she went another day went without calling him.

Shit.

He yanked his thoughts back to the matter at hand and said again, “It’s done. It’s not like they’re robbing me blind.”

Ron—that was his name—Ron went silent, his mouth tightening a bit, but he nodded. “Maybe not. But that other guy was loaded, showed a lot of interest. We could have gotten even more.”

“And these people are ready to move forward now.” So I can move on—focus on everything else . . . Keelie.

Later that night, surrounded by more empty boxes, he stood at the window, his phone on the table next to him.

The phone stayed mockingly silent.

I will. Soon.

He’d kind of expected that to mean she’d call once she landed, got herself in a hotel.

But Keelie hadn’t called once. She’d sent a short text when she landed: I’m here. I’ll call in a few days.

A few days. That didn’t really work for him, but what was he supposed to do?

Unsettled by the emptiness inside him, he moved away from the window and sat in front of his laptop. He’d go over the designs he’d been thinking about for his studio for what felt like forever. The shop Abby had shown him had been perfect in more ways than one. It actually fit everything he’d ever wanted to do.

Now he had a place to do it.

He should be all but ready to tear down the walls himself—have sledgehammer, will travel.

Instead, here he sat.

“Fuck,” he snarled, scrubbing his hands over his face as she shoved her way into his mind yet again.

How could he focus on anything else going on when she was dominating his every thought?

What was she doing and why was it so important that she couldn’t let him know what was going on?

“Get to work. Just . . .” He blew out a breath. “Just don’t think about it, okay?”

He booted up the computer but it didn’t do anything. Aaaannnndddd . . . wonderful. He’d left it unplugged, and sleeping, so long the battery had died.

Plugging it in, he took a minute to grab a cup of coffee and then he sat back down.

That annoying little message flashed up.

Blah blah blah. Yeah, he’d let the battery go dead. Computer shut down, blah, blah blah. He tapped the mouse pad and then went stiff as he saw the images of the pictures he’d shown Keelie flash up. He hadn’t closed the folder and now, there they were.

He looked at the scared, skinny boy he’d been.

Keelie had looked so horrified, and then floored when he’d told her he’d never told his parents.

How in the f*ck did a guy tell them that?

How could he tell his brothers?

Hey, Zach . . . you know all the times I picked a fight with you guys, half the time it was to cover up what some shithead had done to me? Sorry about that.

Except . . .

Swearing, he shoved up and turned away from the computer.

Keelie was off doing God knows what, trying to come to grips with the scared kid she’d once been. Find some way to accept what she hadn’t been able to stop.