We continue talking about logistics, complaining about the situation in my bank account when an email from them pings through.
Please don’t be interest. Please don’t be?—
Eyes burst out of their sockets.
I stand up, clutching the phone with dear life. There’s no way…
“What?” Sunny stands too, looking at my screen. She releases a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a screech. “Did your sister do it?”
$15,000 deposited in my account.
Nadine could have been a contender if I didn’t see the recipient’s name in capital letters. We spent weeks together. Every secret, every moment, every pain—I’ve told him. Honesty means a lot to me, he knew that. But more than honesty—trust matters. Trust and respect are intertwined to create the product that I now feel as love, but he didn’t see that. Still doesn’t if he goes around doing something likethis.
Devastation meets anger and they turn into an inferno, ready to burn all that’s around me, down.
There’s only one Vuk brother that could’ve done this, and it isn’t the one wiping wet hands on his pants.
“Where does Dean live?” I ask. I’m on autopilot. Grabbing my purse that doesn’t have money, putting my phone inside.
“Nova,” Sunny grabs my arm. “Think first.”
The glare I send her is catastrophic.What the hell is he thinking, sending me money?
“What happened?” Azar looks confused. He never knows what his brothers are up to.
“Nothing—”
“It’s notnothing,” I snarl. “Your big brother decided to be a hero as usual.”
Azar doesn’t get it. He looks at Sunny, then me.
“Text me his address. Sunny,” she meets my troubled gaze with concern. “Tell him about the lawsuit.”
Then I’m out of there.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I can’t let you go in.”
I stare up at the sky and curse every bone that hasn’t been impacted by calcium deficiency.
“I don’t think you heard me,” my laugh comes out forced. “I know Dean.” I pull up a picture on my phone.
“Ma’am, he is not in the picture.”
Surely enough, you can see his throat and a blur of his beard. Great. Amazing. Exactly what we need around here.
“I know him,” or at least I thought I did.
“It’s policy,” he gives me a pitiful look. “I’m sorry.”
That’s when I realize why he’s looking at me full of sympathy. Wet tears fall from my eyes. It’s slow, I try to keep them at bay, but it hasn’t worked. I don’t know why I’m crying—what the point of it is. Dean could very well have an incredible reason for depositing money in my account. His reason matters to me.
Swiping angrily on the apps of my phone, I dial his number.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Nova.”
I close my eyes. Some people drown in water. I don’t. I become defenceless against his voice. It swims into my ears, wraps itself around the outer shell, and hypnotizes me. Dean’s voice echoes with earnest respect and gentle love. I admire the talent he hones it with.
