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“That's not what I asked.”
I close my eyes.
“Did you have me investigated?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
One tiny word. One enormous crack through my chest.
“Why?”
“Because I needed to know who you were.”
“No. Try again.”
“Layla—”
“Why?”
His exhale comes through the phone.
“Because my people find out someone was looking into Granddad and you might be at the top of the list.”
My eyes open. There it is. Not that I was. That I might be.
“And instead of asking me?”
“I didn't know you.”
“So you investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“And then offered me thirty days of access to your life.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Silence.
“Mitchell, why?”
“Because if you were looking into Granddad, I needed to know what you'd found.”
My heart cracks a little more.
“And keeping me close let you do that.”
“At first.”
I actually flinch.
At first.
Two words that somehow manage to make every beautiful thing between us hurt.
