Page 64 of Halloween Town

Poppy rubbed her eyes with the balls of her hands, and he saw traces of tears on her cheeks. “My life has been such a mess, Thom, that getting some good news is a bit overwhelming.”

He could understand that; being betrayed was a kick in the gut—and in the heart—and she’d received no support from her family. He knew what betrayal felt like; maybe it would help her to know that he knew what that felt like.

But he’d keep his explanation short. “After my dad died, I took over Sheffield Strategy, and I took on a project to manage a prestigious government-grant program—combining environmental innovation and ethical tech development. The grant process was highly competitive, high-stakes, and very tightly regulated.”

Poppy straightened to look at him, immediately interested.

“One of the top-rated applicants was a small nonprofit run by Ingrid, a brilliant eco-architect.” He grimaced. “She also happened to be my fiancée.” It felt like a million lifetimes ago, and in some ways it was. “Everything about the bidding process was above board. I made sure it was transparent and clean. When Ingrid’s application was discussed, I advised the board that I was involved with her, and I recused myself when her project was discussed. I had absolutely no input, and the review committee approved it unanimously.”

He looked away and scratched his forehead. “Somehow, it still came back to bite me on the ass.”

Poppy ran her fingers over his hand, subtle encouragement. “What happened?”

“I caught Ingrid and Benji in an X-rated clinch during a party at his apartment.”

Poppy pulled a face. “What did you do?”

“Broke up with her and broke his nose.” He shrugged, feeling no remorse. The little shit was lucky he didn’t break both his legs.

“In the weeks following that shitshow, I blanked him, wouldn’t talk to him about anything but work. I kept our conversations super cold and super short.”

“He’d have hated that. Benji can’t stand being ignored.”

Right? “He demanded a reset, that we return to normal. During our last confrontation, I told him to go fuck himself and that I would never trust him again.” Thom stared at a point over Poppy’s shoulder, remembering the cold resolve flowing into Benji’s eyes the minute those words left his mouth. “He decided, right then, to take me down. He manufactured evidence that I moved funds, set up false email chains, and created the buzz that I was coloring outside the lines.”

“Bastard,” Poppy whispered.

“A story was leaked to the press, and the article implied impropriety. Ingrid and her project were implicated, backroom dealings, slush funds, and abuse of influence.”

“Headlines and rumors don’t need facts, they just need fuel,” Poppy murmured.

“Exactly. It was enough of a scandal, a stain on my name, that the board suggested I resign. It was made very clear that I’d be pushed out if I didn’t, especially since my brother and stepmother would vote to remove me. I left, and I lost my credibility and reputation.”

Poppy scowled. “That’s so unfair. But you sued the crap out of them.”

“And won.” He smiled, just a little, at her ferocious expression. “I’ve also started to consult again, mostly online and with people I worked with before. They are bypassing Sheffield Strategy and are working with me directly.”

“He always felt like he couldn’t compete with you,” Poppy said. She rested her cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry he did that to you, Thom.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you,” he replied, stroking her hair. “Though, to be fair, I’m not sorry you ran and that you are here.”

“I have not regretted my barefoot, cross-state flight once,” she told him.

She’d yet to mention Benji’s cheating, even peripherally, and judging by the way she was snuggling into him, she was done talking. Not expressing herself, especially to him, was very un-Poppy-like.

“Have you talked to Wren, or anyone, about what Benji did to you?” he asked, stroking her back.

He felt her go rigid beneath his hand. Then she sat up too quickly and pasted on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Something flickered there—something sharp—and he didn’t recognize it.

“Don’t need to,” she said lightly. “It’s over. He’s irrelevant.”

Irrelevant?

Thirteen years might’ve passed, but some things didn’t change. He knew Poppy. She didn’t shrug things off. She talked, and talked, until she made sense of what she was feeling. He could understand her not wanting to unpack it all with him: he was her ex’s brother, and they could only be described as complicated.

But not talking to Wren? That was wrong on so many levels.

And her fake-bright, brittle expression—the one yelling nothing to see here—made his nerves buzz. He’d seen that face before, when she was a kid and a young teenager. It meant she was hiding something.