“No, but I don’t think it could have been a random act of drunkenness, considering there was a note attached to the brick.” I bite down on my tongue. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him that. Then again, I probably shouldn’t have told him a lot of things I have.

I’m so confused.

About right and wrong.

Who to trust.

Although, it feels like I can trust him.

“A note?” he signs with inquisitiveness. “What’d it say?”

I rub my hands down the sides of my legs as goose bumps dot my flesh. Not from the cold, but from my nerves. “If I told you, you’d have to promise you wouldn’t tell anyone and that you won’t ask questions.”

He scratches the side of his face, and I notice his arm is red and scratched, as if a rough surface was dragged over his flesh. When he sees the direction of my gaze, he hastily jerks the sleeve of his grey thermal shirt down to cover the marks up.

“I’ll try not to ask questions,” he replies. “But, with how nervous you’re acting right now, I’m guessing whatever that note said is going to make me want to ask a lot of questions.”

He’s letting me decide.

He’s letting me make the choice.

If I want to let him into that part of my life.

“Well, you can ask,” I say, turning for the stairs, “but I more than likely won’t be able to answer all of them.”

He follows me up the stairs and into my apartment. I still haven’t cleaned up the glass on the floor, and his eyes immediately fall to the shards stuck in the carpet then drift upward to the taped-up window.

“They threw it through your door?” He shakes his head as he moves to the sliding glass door and inspects the hole through the plastic. “When you said window, I thought you meant window.”

“Window. Door. They’re kind of the same.”

“So, where’s the note?” Ryler’s brow arches when I twist the lock of the door, locking up, something I do completely out of habit. “Are you afraid of someone, Emery? Is that why you’re locking the door, because you’re afraid of the person who did this?”

“Kind of.” Which is the partial truth.

I collect the note from the coffee table and give it to him. “This was on the brick,” I explain as he reads the short letter. “At first, I didn’t see it and thought someone had just thrown the brick to scare me.”

He worriedly glances up from the paper. “Emery, this isn’t just a note. It’s a threat.”

I sigh as I sink onto the sofa. “I know it is.”

He sits down beside me, leaving too much space between our bodies in my opinion. “Did you call the police?”

I shake my head and slump back on the sofa. “I can’t call them.”

He looks from the paper to me and a pucker forms at his brow. “How come?”

I shrug. “Because I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I flop my head back and stare at the ceiling. “Because I just can’t.”

He stares at me, wanting more, but I can’t give anything else to him. Last night, when we hung out and played cards then listened to music and kissed in his room, I got my first taste of normalcy. Telling anyone about what I think the note really means and who it’s from would forever ruin my chance of having a more normal life. My parents would find out. I’d be sent home where I’d marry Evan and turn into my mother, forced to be my husband’s pillar, keeping his secrets for him.

“Emery...” he signs before his hands fall to his lap.

Frowning, I turn my head to face him. “You promised you’d try not to ask questions.”

“I know I did.” His gaze flicks back and forth from the note to me. Then, with a heavy sigh, he tosses the paper onto the coffee table and sits back in the chair, rubbing his tired eyes. “Can I at least ask if you have any idea who did it?”

“Maybe, but if I do, I couldn’t tell you who it is.”

He closes his eyes and inhales loudly, no longer trying to conceal his frustration. “I can’t help you unless you give me some hints.” His eyelids lift, his pupils scorching fervently. His gaze swallows me up again, confuses me, clouds my head.

I want...

I want...

I want him.

“A hint? I come from a place like no other, where nothing is what it seems. Everyone has their secrets, and those secrets have followed me.”

He gapes at me then chuckles. “Did you just tell me a riddle?”

I lift my shoulder, giving a half-shrug. “You said you wanted a hint. Well, that’s the best I can do.”

His muscles flex as he moves his arms. “You said where you come from... Were you talking about your family?”

“Kind of.”

“What about your brother?”

“What about him?”

“You said you haven’t seen him in six months, yet you never said why.”

“Because I don’t know why.” I sigh, drape my arm over my head, and stare out the window. “There’s just stuff... with my family... that even I don’t understand sometimes. How my parents live their lives... it’s never made sense to me.”

He remains silent until I look at him, and then his hands glide through the air. “And you think they have something to do with your broken window.”

My lungs constrict as the air is ripped from my lungs. My breathing is ragged, my chest heaves, and Ryler fully notices, his gaze zeroing in on my breasts. “Or my town. But the two of them... They’re kind of the same, I guess.” I gasp for air, embarrassed that he’s seeing me like this.