Clipped Wings

Hayden stopped the assault when he took my face in his hands. “I don’t like that guy. He’s like a giant red flag of douche waving around in the air. What happened during that meeting?”

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.

“And don’t say ‘nothing’ or ‘it was fine.’ You’re not okay.”

“Can we leave, please?” I asked.

He tensed. “Did he touch you?”

“What? No!”

“Don’t lie to me, Tenley. We’ve already been there before. I don’t like this situation.”

“I promise. He offered to help me with my things, but I was already out the door.” At least I could be truthful. While Calder’s implication had been clear, he hadn’t put his hands on me. I couldn’t understand how Hayden had picked up on Calder’s intentions from their brief interaction.

Appeased by whatever he saw on my face, Hayden took my hand and led me down the stairs. The air outside was cool, and the drop in temperature helped calm me. Wearing a dark scowl, Hayden kept his fingers laced through mine all the way to the car. Students heading to night classes gave us a wide berth. But their eyes would migrate to him, like they couldn’t help but stare.

When we arrived at his car, he opened the door and helped me in. As soon as the engine roared to life, he turned to me. “I need you to talk to me, please.”

“Thank you for picking me up.”

“It was the least I could do after last night.” He leaned over and kissed me. I stroked along the seam of his lips with my tongue, seeking entrance. There was only a slight hesitation before he opened for me. Some of his anger dissolved with the intimacy. He was the one to break away first, coming back a few times to press kisses at the edge of my mouth.

“Is that how he is with you all the time?”

“Usually.” I toyed with the strap on my messenger bag.

“You shouldn’t have to work with that dick. Doesn’t he have a supervisor? Can’t you switch advisors?”

“There’s a process involved in securing an advisor. Finding another one to take me on in the middle of the semester would be difficult. I’d have to start all over,” I explained.

From my first official meeting with Calder, I’d contemplated the exact same option, but I hadn’t had a good enough reason to push the issue. A lack of warmth or personal co

Hayden rubbed his forehead. “I don’t like this.”

“I’ll be fine, Hayden. I only have to meet with him twice a month, probably less after I get things sorted out. I can hold my own.”

“That’s the thing, though, kitten. You shouldn’t have to. You’ve dealt with enough already.” He looked so conflicted, like he couldn’t understand why things like this happened to me.

But the answer was clear. Karma doled out punishment in increments for the lies I couldn’t face. I just hoped karma wouldn’t take Hayden away from me, too.

24

HAYDEN

On Friday afternoon Cassie took off for the weekend. She left Tenley in charge of Serendipity so she and my uncle Nate could go away. Tenley didn’t seem to mind, but her week had been stressful, no thanks to her asshole advisor. I wanted to castrate him to ensure her safety, but that wasn’t an option. So I kept track of her meetings with him instead.

She hadn’t slept well the past couple of nights; nightmares had made her restless. It meant we were both a little tired, and I was snappy, as Jamie pointed out. I finished with my final client of the evening. Since I was already set up for my appointments tomorrow, I decided to stop in the café and pick up a snack for Tenley. She’d complained about an upset stomach this morning, so I doubted she’d eaten much today. She wasn’t at the cash register when I reached Serendipity, so I bypassed the first door and went directly to the second entrance, leading to the café, so I could surprise her. I ordered her a tea and picked the heaviest, most calorie-dense baked good to pair it with.

The door to Serendipity chimed, despite it being almost time to close. From where I stood I could see into the antiques store, but Tenley wasn’t visible. The jazz music floating through the speakers made it impossible to hear the conversation taking place, but I could make out the distinct low tones of a man. Based on her surprise, she seemed to know the person. When the tea was ready, I put it in a sleeve to keep her from burning her fingers.

Tenley sat behind the counter, swiveling back and forth in the chair. The man standing across from her was an on-duty cop. I couldn’t see his face because he was leaning on the counter. He was too close to Tenley.

There was something u

His smile dropped as he took me in. His hand went immediately to the butt of his gun. I was covered in ink, which inevitably made me a felon in his estimation. I recognized him. He was older than me, by more than half a decade. I held his distrustful gaze as I ran my finger along the waistband of Tenley’s jeans where a strip of black ink was visible.

She clutched the base of her throat. “Hayden! I didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry.” I leaned in and kissed the side of her neck. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I brought you tea.”

As soon as I touched her, the rest of the world ceased to exist—even the cop who looked like he might consider shooting me for putting my hands on her.

She smiled. “That was thoughtful.”

“I try.”

“Stryker? Hayden Stryker?” the cop asked with disbelief.

I reluctantly tore my attention away from Tenley. I still couldn’t place him, but the icy stab in my stomach felt like a warning. “I’m sorry,” I said. “How do I know you?”

He looked shocked. “Collin Cross.”

It took a few seconds for the name to register and the pieces to fall into place. The night of my parents’ murder came back in a rush. I was alone in the house for fifteen minutes before the police came. I was intoxicated and high at the time, tripping out hard after I found my parents’ dead bodies.

Cross and his partner were first on the scene. They were too late to make a fucking difference. My belligerence forced his partner to restrain me, while Cross went upstairs to investigate. It took forever for him to come back down. There was no sign of a break-in, so they cuffed me and read me my rights, believing I’d killed them myself.

Cross kept me in the back of the car, repeating the same questions for what seemed like hours until they finally took me to the precinct house. They kept me in an interrogation room for a long time before I was allowed to make a call to my uncle. There was no “good cop–bad cop” routine—just relentless questioning. And then there were the pictures. I never recovered from those. The interrogation sent me into an emotional downward spiral I didn’t come out of for months. Or years, depending on who you talked to.

I passed the lie detector test. My alibi, which they didn’t bother to confirm until after the phone call had been made to my uncle, was more than enough to eradicate any suspicions of my involvement. Even the evidence that was eventually ruled as inadmissible never pointed at me, but I’d still felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility.