Now I get why he’s here. I sigh. “Did you really want to bring me breakfast or are you using it as an excuse to check up on me?”

The offended look he shoots me makes me regret my comment. I blow out an exasperated breath and rest my arms on the bar. “I was working,” I say. “I filled in at an art gallery for extra money.”

Trey is standing in the exact spot Owen was standing in last night. Trey and Owen are probably the same height, but for some reason Trey just appears more intimidating. I don’t know if it’s because he’s always in a police uniform, or if it’s the hardened facial features. His dark eyes always seem to be frowning, whereas Owen can’t seem to help smiling. Just thinking about Owen and the fact that I’ll see him again tonight instantly puts me in a better mood.

“An art gallery? Which one?”

“The one on Pearl, near my work. It’s called Confess.”

Trey’s jaw tenses and he sets his cup of coffee on the counter. “I know the one,” he says. “Callahan Gentry’s son owns that building.”

“Am I supposed to know who Callahan Gentry is?”

He shakes his head and pours his coffee in the sink. “Cal’s an attorney,” he says. “And his son is trouble.”

I wince at his insult, because I don’t understand it. Owen is the last person I would associate with the word trouble. Trey grabs his keys off the bar and begins making his way out of the kitchen. “I don’t like the idea of you working for him.”

Not that Trey’s opinion matters to me in any way, but I’m a little put off that he even made that comment. “You don’t have to worry about it,” I say. “I was fired last night. Not what he was looking for in an employee, I guess.” I fail to tell him the true reason I was fired last night. I’m sure that would upset him even more.

“Good,” he says. “You coming to dinner Sunday night?”

I follow him to the door. “Haven’t missed it yet, have I?”

Trey turns to face me after he opens the door. “Well, you’ve also never missed a phone call, and look what happened last night.”

Touché, Trey.

I hate confrontation, and my attitude is going to start one if I don’t backtrack. The last thing I need is tension with Trey or Lydia. “Sorry,” I mutter. “It was a late night last night with working two jobs yesterday. Thank you for the breakfast. I’ll be nicer next time you show up unannounced.”

He smiles and reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. It’s an intimate gesture, and I don’t like that he feels comfortable enough to do it. “It’s fine, Auburn.” He drops his hand and steps out into the hall. “See you Sunday night.”

I close the door and lean against it. I’ve been getting a very different vibe from him lately. When I lived in Portland, I never saw him. However, moving to Texas put me in his presence a lot more, and I’m not sure we’re on the same page when it comes to how we define our friendship.

“I don’t like him,” Emory says. I glance toward the living room and she’s seated on the couch, eating her doughnut while flipping through a magazine.

“You don’t even know him,” I say in Trey’s defense.

“I liked the guy you had over last night much better.” She doesn’t bother looking up from her magazine as she judges me.

“You were here last night?”

She nods and takes a long sip of her soda, again not bothering to give me eye contact. “Yep.”

What? Why does she think this is okay?

“Were you here when I called you about the code word?”

She nods again. “I was in my room. I’m really good at eavesdropping,” she says flatly.

I nod once and make my way back toward my bedroom. “That’s good to know, Emory.”

CHAPTER SIX

Owen

If I were smarter, I would be at my place right now, getting dressed.

If I were smarter, I’d be mentally preparing to show up at Auburn’s apartment, since that’s what I promised her I would do tonight.

If I were smarter, I wouldn’t be sitting here. Waiting for my father to walk through the door and see my hands cuffed behind my back.

I don’t really know how I should feel right now, but numbness probably isn’t the appropriate response. I just know he’s about to walk through that door any second and the last thing I want to do is look him in the eyes.

The door opens.

I look away.

I hear his footsteps as he slowly enters the room. I shift in my seat, but I can barely move thanks to the metal digging into my wrists. I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret. I bite it so hard I taste blood. I continue to avoid looking at him and choose to focus on the poster hanging on the wall. It’s a photo timeline, depicting the progression of meth use over a ten-year span. I stare at it, aware of the fact that all ten pictures are of the same man, and all of them are mug shots. That means the guy was arrested no fewer than ten times.

He’s got nine arrests on me.

My father sighs from where he’s seated, directly across from me. He sighs so heavily his breath reaches me from across the table. I scoot back a few inches.

I don’t even want to know what’s going through his head right now. I just know what’s going through my head, and that’s nothing but a sea of disappointment. Not as much for my arrest as for the fact that I’ve let Auburn down. She seems to live a life where a lot of people let her down and I hate that I’m about to become one of them.