“Traffic has been really slow lately,” Willa said, a majorly guilty expression on her face. “We’ve been trying everything we can to get people in, but you know, the borough is sort of...”
“Quiet,” I echoed. “Yeah, I get it. But why are all of you here?”
“It’s my fault,” my mother said. “I brought everyone here together.”
“Why am I not surprised,” I drawled. “Though I still don’t understand why. I’m fine.”
“You lost someone very important to you.”
“I’m hardly the only person who’s seen someone close to them die.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at Willa who had seen her own mother die not all that long before. “I’ll get over it.”
“You’re obsessing, darling.”
“I’m not obsessing.”
“You’re skipping out on family dinners. You haven’t been around the pizzeria barely at all. Do you even have a case you’re working on?”
I didn’t answer. I just looked around the room. “Is this an intervention?”
Jack looked at his hands. Willa snuggled next to him, looking at her hands, too. Nash looked helplessly at our mother. It was only Grey who met my gaze and looked somewhat amused.
The werewolf raised his hands. “Don’t look at me. I just came here hoping to talk to you and found all of this.”
“Yes, it is an intervention.” Rose DeMarco stomped her foot. “We all love you, and we are worried about you. Dani, you never talk about your feelings.”
“Because I’m different than you! I don’t need to talk them to death. I’ll process things on my own time. I’m an adult, and I own this business. So, if you all are done trying to pry, I’m going to get some pizzas in the oven and focus on running my business.”
“Dani—”
I stared down every person looking back at me. “Unless someone wants to tell me who in the world Nathaniel is, then I’m out of here.”
A deadly silence followed.
“Nathaniel?” Willa sounded confused. “Any chance you caught a last name?”
Nash looked keen to hear the answer, but no one was offering up an explanation. Jack looked confused, my mother concerned. It was only when I looked to Grey that I saw him pale the slightest amount, and I knew I had my answer.
“Fine,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Since nobody can help me, I’m going to go upstairs. Grey, did you need to talk to me or what?”
Grey stood and followed me out of the room, quietly nodding to my mother, my brothers, and Willa on the way out. We trekked silently into the employee-only room of the restaurant, then up the back staircase to my apartment.
“Start talking,” I said, leaning against one wall of the hallway.
“Here?” Grey glanced behind him.
The murmur of voices had followed us upstairs. Probably the gang discussing me and my problems, but I didn’t really care. I could figure myself out just fine without their help.
“What’s wrong with here?”
“Can I come in?” Grey asked. “It might be more private.”
“You forget my furniture talks.”
“I’m sure you can ask them to be quiet.”
Speaking of quiet, the room downstairs had gone disturbingly silent all on its own. I realized my voice was probably carrying down the stairs, and my family was eavesdropping on my conversation.
Grey took a step closer to me, invading my space bubble. His hand came up to touch my chin, tilting it upward until I had no choice but to look him in the eyes. The scent of him, woodsy and fresh, filtered over me. The close proximity between us was surprisingly comfortable.
“Why won’t you invite me into your apartment?” he murmured. “What are you afraid of?”
I kept my expression stony, but he’d seen straight through me. Even as I tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, my shoulders began to slump and give me away.
“Whatever it is, Dani, I can handle it,” Grey whispered. “Is it me?”
“No, I’m not worried about you.” I shook my head to emphasize the point. “It’s me.”
Grey took my hand and led me down the hallway. He paused outside of the door and watched me with a sympathetic eye. I took a deep breath, removed my key from my pocket, and slid it into the lock. I twisted it and let us inside.
In his defense, Grey didn’t make a peep at the sight that greeted him. I hadn’t allowed anyone—including Willa, my mother, or my brothers—into my apartment in the months following Matthew’s death.
At first, it had been innocent enough. I’d wanted to grieve in peace. But as the sadness turned into anger, my apartment had changed as well. Along one wall was a massive poster board with pictures plastered all over it. I’d drawn lines between them in different colors to emphasize connections, lineage, and rumors that swirled in the aftermath of all that had happened.
In the kitchen, I had strings hanging from the ceiling with clothes pins attached in exact intervals, notecards hanging from them. It represented the timeline leading up to Matthew’s death.
In short, my apartment looked like it belonged to a nut job.
Grey simply turned in a circle, taking it all in. His eyes focused on the wall of photos, and he moved closer without saying a word. He studied the faces of Collin, Owen, Arthur Lemont. Sienna, Primrose, and even himself. Matthew was there looking alive and well, along with many, many others.
“Go on,” I said. “You can say it. I’m going crazy.”
“It’s impressive,” Grey said. “Not crazy. What am I looking at, exactly?”
Relieved to not get an immediate lecture from Grey, I gestured toward the wall of photos. “Here’s everyone I can think of that is somehow involved with The Hex Files. Good or bad. There’s you, me Sienna...”
“Matthew.”
“Yes,” I said. “There’s also the other side. Owen, Collin, all of the others that have come before them.”
“And here?” Grey’s eyes moved to the top of the pyramid.
There was no photo there, just a big, black X.
“That’s who’s behind all of this. Who’s truly responsible for Matthew’s death,” I said. “And who I’m trying to find.”
“I imagine if you wait long enough, he’ll find you,” Grey mused darkly, almost to himself.
“That’s what I’m trying to prevent,” I said. “If that happens, it will already be too late.”
Grey reached out and rested his hand against my elbow. He led me to the couch where we sat side by side. My furniture had remained silent this whole time. They’d given up trying to convince me that I was losing control of this whole thing.
I studied Grey who, in turn, was studying my apartment-turned-police-headquarters. Watching him sit there calmly, I was overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude. For him, for his support, for the way he understood me without a single word.
“Are they right?” I murmured in a tiny voice. It wavered, but this time, I didn’t try to look strong in front of Grey. I just let myself go. “Am I getting out of hand?”
Grey thought for a moment. “Are you obsessed?”