Page 29 of In the Shadows (The Club)
Her gut pitched. “Zeke...I’m so sorry.”
“You can change if you want,” he said, handing her some clothes and gesturing to the hallway behind him. “Bathroom’s down there.”
She padded silently to the bathroom. It wasn’t like she’d be embarrassed to change in front of him; he’d seen everything several times over. But the fact that he suggested she change out of the room was probably the closest he’d ever get to asking her for some space.
She managed to tie off the drawstring of his gym shorts so they didn’t slide down her hips, but there wasn’t much hope for the t-shirt. She tucked a bit of it into the shorts, enough to keep it from tangling around her thighs, and peered out of the bathroom. He was still standing by the bookcase, looking at the pictures when she returned to him.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” she apologized.
His brow furrowed with confusion. At least he looked away from the picture though. “Why wouldn’t you have asked? Isn’t that something normal people do? Ask questions?”
“I...Well...I mean...”
“You want some coffee?”
His awkward offer jarred her from her poorly attempted explanation. “Sure.”
There was only one stool at the kitchen’s island. He pulled it out for her as he headed toward the coffee maker. She perched on the edge of the stool and watched him go about the work. As with everything he did, short, efficient movements completed the task and it wasn’t long before the hot water bubbled through the basket of grounds. He moved a box of sugar cubes to the island and pulled a half-empty jug of cream from the fridge. It took him a minute to find two cups. He gave her the nice one, keeping the chipped, stained mug for himself. Even after they each had a cup of coffee in hand, she kept silent.
What could she possibly say?
“A few years ago, do you remember a news story about Quinn O’Neill?” Zeke suddenly asked.
She frowned and thought about it. “The name sounds familiar.” He waited while she scoured her brain, trying to figure out where she’d heard it before. Then it clicked. “Isn’t that the name of the war hero?”
Zeke nodded.
“He rescued a hostage or something, I think.”
The low rush of air leaving Zeke wasn’t quite a sound of pain, but it made her chest hurt all the same.
“You probably saw the video of the escape,” he said. “The terrorists were filming the execution and instead filmed him killing everyone and rescuing the other hostage.” As he spoke, memories of the newscasts she’d seen rose vaguely.
“He won some awards when he got back stateside,” she said, relieved when Zeke’s nod confirmed that she was remembering the right story. “Because of him, the other hostage survived.”
“There were two other hostages,” he said shortly.
“How would you–?” She trailed off as she watched his stoic expression. “You knew him?”
His lips twisted into a grim smile. “Am him, darlin’.”
***
He kept waiting for Viv to react to that bombshell. Shit, he felt a little wobbly after the admission. Instead, she dropped her eyes to the island counter, took a sip of coffee, and looked back up at him.
“O’Neill?” she asked.
“My mother’s maiden name,” he explained, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He really wished he had another stool right about now.
“So why Harding now?”
“My father’s name. After the news broke, I...I needed that change.”
Her full lips pursed, but she didn’t drop eye contact with him. Instead, she tilted her head a little and asked, “Family issues?”
The idea of explaining the level of fucked-upedness in his family surprised a bark of laughter from him. “You have no idea.”
She gave a slow nod. “Probably not. My family’s pretty close. But if you want to talk about it, I wouldn’t mind listening.”
