Home > Twisted Circles(23)

Twisted Circles(23)
Author: Claire Contreras

“Spit it out already.”

“So, Max actually knows Stella. They went to high school together, she’s a real person. And she is a lesbian.” Nolan raised an eyebrow.

I felt my eyes roll. “You need to lay off the porn sites, bro.”

“Eva Guerra, also a real person. She was working at an elementary school not far from here.” Nolan clicked on a link. “Parents: Karen Guerra and Esteban Guerra.”

“What the fuck.” My chest tightened. I reached for my brother’s phone and read quickly.

Eva Guerra had been arrested last week and released, but not before they took her fingerprints. There was more information on past arrests, but you had to pay to get it and I didn’t care about her past right now. I looked at the date of the fingerprints again.

“That was the day she went to The Manor.” I handed Nolan back his phone. “Text that to me.”

“I hope this teaches you to stop labeling people,” our mother said.

“He’s not completely wrong to question her, Mom. She has a record.” Nolan flashed the screen at her. “If I find anything else, I’ll let you know. You sure you don’t want to come to my game tomorrow night? You can bring her.”

“I don’t think so. Maybe next time.”

“I gotta go. Love you guys.” He gave each of us a hug and Mom a kiss on the head before walking out.

“So you don’t think there’s anything crazy about her?” I looked at my mother again.

“I don’t like that word.” She shot me a look. “But if we’re going to use it, then we have to say that we’re all a little crazy.” She walked over and squeezed my arm. “I like her. She’s one of the good ones.”

“I thought you couldn’t determine much from a ten-minute conversation?”

“Light expels from the good ones. You don’t have to dig very deep to find it.”

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

Eva

 

 

“What is your problem?”

A storm was brewing inside me and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold off before I exploded. Adam had some nerve asking that question. He had some nerve talking to me at all. I faced him as I stormed outside of the

swanky lobby of the swanky palace he’d brought me to. The concern on his face was the only thing keeping me from making a scene. It was the concern that made me take one deep breath and then another in an effort to calm down. I’d managed to smile and thank his parents for being hospitable, which they were. It wasn’t their fault their son was a complete and total asshole. Or maybe it was partially their fault. They did raise him, after all.

“My problem?” I pressed a hand to my chest. “You think I’m an idiot. That’s my problem.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“You brought me here so that your mother could ask me questions. You wanted her to get into my head since you can’t. You want her to get to know me since you refuse to because you’re too caught up in your own head to realize that your shit stinks like the rest of us.”

“Jesus.” He exhaled heavily, raking his hair with his fingers. “I . . . yeah, I fucked up. I’m sorry, but for the record, I only did it because you lied to me.”

“I lied to you?” My voice rose and I was fully aware that we were making a scene in the middle of a fancy neighborhood but I didn’t care. “Please explain how I lied.”

“Your name isn’t Stella Thompson. It’s Eva Guerra.”

“You knew.” I took a step back, then another. “You bastard. How long have you known?”

“I just found out. My brother’s friend did a search on both of you and it turns out he’s a friend of Stella Thompson’s. You should have told me.”

“I . . . ” I looked away, taking a breath as I processed this. He just found out. “Does that mean your parents know? Do they think I’m crazy?” I shook my head. “I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’m going to see them again.”

Adam opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his own head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure you’d believe me.”

“Well, you should have let me decide that.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who brought me to meet his mother so she could tell him whether or not I’m crazy.”

“That’s not . . . ” He cocked his head. “Fine, yeah, that’s exactly what I was doing.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I needed to know that I wasn’t wasting my time with you.”

“Because I may or may not be crazy and that’s not good enough for your prestigious lifestyle?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I shook my head, disappointment winning out. More than anything, I was sad that he felt that way, especially since I liked him. I reminded myself that I’d kept my actual identity from him. It didn’t matter. He’d brought me here so that his mother could psychoanalyze me and it was embarrassing.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I am and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just asked you directly.”

“Do you know what it’s like to grow up thinking something is wrong with you? For every single outburst to be overanalyzed and probed as if I were some kind of experiment?” I pointed at the building. “Shit like that makes all of those memories come flooding back. My mother, my adoptive mother, pays good money for me to see Dr. Maslow. Money we don’t have. I’ve been surrounded by head doctors all my life, so that little stunt was not very covert.”

“In her defense, she didn’t know I was bringing you for any of that.”

“Oh, so she just asks every single girl you bring around about their childhood five seconds into meeting her?”

“Honestly? Yes. She really does.” Adam let out a short laugh and dammit, I felt myself laugh a little.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Hey, you saw the amount of hugs you got in ten minutes. We’re pretty fucking ridiculous.”

I laughed again and followed him back to his car. After we got in, I took a breath and exhaled, realizing I felt lighter. Even though I hadn’t told him, I was glad he knew and that he seemed to be on my side in all of this. I was clicking on my seatbelt when I felt him looking at me and glanced up to meet his eyes.

“What?”

“I really am sorry.” He brought a hand up and caressed the side of my face with his thumb. I nodded my acceptance for his apology because I couldn’t quite seem to get the words out of my mouth.

“Where are we going?” I asked after a moment, after he’d dropped his hand from my face, turned the car on, and started to drive.

“To excavate.”

“Excavate what? Dinosaur bones?”

He didn’t respond, but as he pulled into a cemetery and drove down the street, passing the endless plots, I started to feel like I was going to hyperventilate. I looked over at him.

“Please tell me we’re not going to dig up a person.”

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