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His fingertip stilled "What do you"You know, horew up there What’s it like?"

He sat back and stared into the fire "It’s exactly like all the stories your mom told you when you were a kid"

"My stepeare hot Not a whole lot of cli breeze every so often, though It was al to answer I’dquestions "What would it do to a huaze darted towarda trip" Odd thing was, he seemed serious Like a trip to the underbelly of the supernatural world ithin the realht write an article Or a book I’ve alanted a Pulitzer Or I could get really lucky and score a Nobel Peace Prize I’d kill for a Nobel Peace Prize"

He’d gone back to staring into his wine, to running his finger along the ri his gaze, he said, "Come here"

The butterflies attacked again His arlass His undy liquid

"I should probably go"

What if he were the arsonist? What would I do? On one hand, I had Uncle Bob to consider He’d done so much for me, was always there for me, but so was Reyes He could be an ass, but he’d saved my life more times than I could count Could I really accuse him of arson and turn him over?

Maybe I should just ask hiure out what to do, where to go fro in hell

I set lass on the coffee table and rose to leave "Thank you for tonight, though Thank you for everything"

"That sounds o He arched a brow in question "Planning on never co back?"

"No, just… I don’t know I need to check on a few things" And get the ie of him in a prison unifor up Torture Abuse beyond i to erase his past? To re down the places in which he’d lived? My chest tightened

I walked to the door and pulled it open Then Reyes was there Behind me He didn’t just close the door He sla out of ?" he asked, and he sounded hurt Confused

I laidto check on a few things I have some research to do for a case"

"Why is every breath you release filled with pity? Why in damnation would you feel sorry for me when you knohat I am? What I’ve done?"

Of course he would be able to feel h he gave in His araze hard But just as he felt my compassion, I felt the cut it left, the wound