Silence Reveals Hidden Answers’ by Michael Anderson novel Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Harvey Prescott.

“I’m not wearing that.” I look at the shirt she’s holding out. It’s pale blue shirt.

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“Jeremy said it’s brand new.” Jennifer says. She’s just out of the shower and there’s a towel wrapped around her head, lookin at me with those wide, bubbly eyes.

I close my own eyes for a second. How do I tell her I hate her brother? How do I explain that the thought of wearing his clothes, of having his hand-me-downs on my skin, makes my ja lock? It’s a petty, vicious feeling. I don’t do hand-me- downs. Especially not from him.

“Okay,” I say, the word tight. I take the shirt from her. The

“I’ll fluff the pillows. Go take a shower.” she says, turning away.

Thankfully, the shower is hot. The water beats down on my shoulders, trying to loosen the knot of tension there. It was a good game with her father. The man is different. He doesn’t have that weary, judgmental look most older people get when they see the ink on my knuckles or the scar by my eye. He just talked. Told stories. Asked questions without an edge.

And I felt my heart detonate. Because what if? What if a sweet man like him just dropped dead from the heart attack I caused? Would I have been able to face Jennifer? He’d be gone, and it would be because of me. The warm water doesn’t wash that thought away. It just hammers it deeper.

When I come clean to Jennifer, I’ll have to come clean to him, top. Somehow, that’s what scares me more now. Not them knowing. The disappointment in his eyes when he finds out. This man didn’t judge me for my face. I’m about to repay him with the truth of his son’s blood on my hands.

I dry off and enter the bedroom. I turn off the harsh overhead lights, leaving just the soft glow of the golden lamp on her nightstand. The room feels intimate. Exposed.

“Hmmm.” Jennifer hums from the bed, a suggestive little sound.

“Your father is right under us. I’m not sexing you.” I joke.

“What? I didn’t even say anything like that!” She rolls her eyes with a faint blush on her cheeks. She goes back to her phone and her head hits the pillows.

“I said ‘hmm’ because the shirt suits you.”

I don’t answer. I lift the sheets and slide in. The bed is warm from her. I can smell her shampoo on the pillows. We both lie there and stare at the ceiling. It feels strangely innocent, like two teenagers at an awkward sleepover.

She breaks the silence by twisting to look at me. This girl doesn’ speak, she just studies my face and her gaze traces every feature. Then her hand comes up. Her fingers brush the slope ofny nose in a feather-light touch.

I catch her hand, pretending to bite it, then hold it firmly agains my chest. Her palm is warm over my heartbeat as she chuckles. Then there’s a heavy, quiet moment between us.

“Can you tell me about your exes? Or ex?” she asks.

“What?” I immediately tense and my chest lifts under her hand.

She props herself up on an elbow. “You don’t want to talk about?”

“You said you didn’t want to know the last time I brought it up.” remind her, hoping she’ll drop it. This is a minefield

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Chapter 55

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“Yeah, I did. And I… I mean, they’re your exes. It’s not bad if I know how many there were. As you know, I didn’t date anyone. I just want to know if you did.”

“Why?” The word comes out sharper than I intend.

She sits up fully now, a frustrated frown on her face. “Can I just now? Was she Miss World or something?”

A faint, bitter smile touches my lips. “And if she was… would you be insecure then?”

“I wouldn’t be.”

“Then there’s no need to know. My ex was my ex. There’s not much to tell.”

“So… one girl?” she presses.

I put my head back on the pillow and shut my eyes. “Yes.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“A club.” The answer is short, blunt. I hear her slight pause.

“So she was your first?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm… how long did you date-”

“It wasn’t a relationship.” I cut her off but my eyes are still closed I can’t look at her for this.

“I just got out of the army at that time. My dad sent me to Italy to learn how to control the casino business. I was sick of life. I just… gave in to it. It wasn’t a relationship.”

The silence that follows is thick. I feel her lie back down in her sot.

“I’m not mad that you had a girlfriend.” she whispers after a time

“Hmm.” I grunt.

The quiet only lasts a minute before her curiosity wins again. “Ah I’m prettier?”

“Of course you are,” I say, and I mean it.

“Were you her first?”

“Jennifer.” Now I open my eyes and turn my head to look at her. My tone is a warning.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, not looking sorry at all. She starts drawing idle circles on my chest with her finger. The touch is so light, so innocent, it makes a reluctant chuckle rise in my throat

I turn fully onto my side to face her, “Go to bed.”

“Why?” she asks again, her voice a soft whisper in the dark, and have no answer. Or I have too many answers, all of them jagged and wrong.

A flash of lightning bleaches the room white for a split second, windowpanes. I flinch, and in that abrupt, vulnerable moment, decision. My body moves before my pride can stop it

lowed instantly by a crack of thunder so loud it shakes the and myself drawing closer to her. It’s not a conscious

I melt into her. And she, with her smaller arms, opens up and gets me in. She hugs me tight with her arins on my back,

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