Read The Deadly Neighbors (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries) for Free Online Page A

Focus.
    “Nick,” I started my speech again. “I have to say something. About today.”
    He looked up, biting on an almond.
    “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
    His head tilted. His eyes lit up, curious. Maybe hopeful.
    “I should have told you about my father a long time ago.” Good, I told myself. It was a start.
    Nick’s eyes retreated, disinterested. Or disappointed? He sucked the spoon clean, didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask a question, didn’t make an accusation. He jabbed the spoon back into the ice cream. Go on, I told myself. Explain.
    “My history with my father is…complicated. Until today, I hadn’t seen him in years. He was out of my life, permanently, for a thousand good reasons. Until yesterday. Yesterday, his neighbor called to tell me he wasn’t doing well, so I had no choice. I had to look in on him. It was very last-minute. I wasn’t, I mean…it wasn’t like I was keeping him a secret from you.” Despite all my planning and rehearsing, I sounded defensive. Pathetic. But I couldn’t stop. “In fact, I was going to tell you about him afterward—”
    “Don’t worry about it. Not a problem.”
    What? How was it not a problem? “But Nick, I don’t want you to think I was hiding him from you—”
    “Relax. It’s cool.”
    How was it cool? “But I shouldn’t have kept him—”
    “It’s no big deal.” His voice was too easy, stinging me with indifference.
    “It’s not?”
    “Of course not. It’s not my business if you have a father or a sister or a cousin or an ex-husband or a hundred other relationships I don’t know about.”
    It wasn’t? “It isn’t?”
    “Why would it be? You’re a grown woman. You have your own life. Your own past. Your relationships with your family or anybody else are your own business. They become my business only if you want them to.”
    Oh. Okay. Suddenly, painfully, I got it. I felt it like a jab in the gut. Nick was clever, using this situation to draw up rules, set guidelines. After all, if he didn’t claim a right to know about my relationships, I could hardly complain when he didn’t reveal much about his.
    “Nick, we’re getting married. We should know about the people in each other’s lives—at least the important ones. I was wrong not to tell you about my father. I’m sorry.”
    “No need to be.” His tongue darted along the spoon, glib and easy. Snakelike. “Really. You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to. It’s fine.”
    How could he say that? Why was he being so amenable? What was that subtle edge in his voice? “How is it fine? You have a right to know. We need to be open with each other. I didn’t talk about him, but it wasn’t that I was keeping a secret from you. It had nothing to do with you. It was that I didn’t want even to think about him—”
    “Zoe. Let it go. It’s not a problem.”
    Lord, he was infuriating. Letting the issue go. Accepting my behavior. Agreeing with me. Not getting angry or hurt. How could he be so goddamned pleasant? Didn’t he care about me at all?
    Go ahead, I told myself. Tell him how awful you feel, how much you need him to want to know and accept your past. Tell him you want him to hold you. Admit that you’re so tangled up inside that you can’t begin to express it.
    I stood silently, wondering why I couldn’t speak. Something about Nick was different, holding me back.
    “It’s been a long day,” he offered. “You should go to bed.”
    “I’m not tired.” I was exhausted, aching to snuggle up beside him like normal and sleep.
    “Last chance. Sure you don’t want any?” He held out the spoon, his eyes teasing, waiting for me to grab it. Stainless steel beckoned, promising smooth, creamy cold mocha.
    “No, thanks.” I resisted, still not sure why.
    The half of his face that wasn’t paralyzed lifted into a knowing smirk, and he took a fresh spoon from the drawer. Container in hand, he led the way to the living room. I followed and sat beside him on the