Chapter 3  Why is she here  

broke my young heart. Oh Lord. My sharp intake of breath was loud enough that I could feel both men looking at me. I turned my head back to the detective. I'd like to think he noticed the change because of his work and not because I made it obvious. The detective tilted his head as he watched me. This wasn't happening. The police station really needed to invest in good ventilation because the air quality in this room was terrible. I couldn't breathe. Oh my God. Was I having a heart attack? I was going to die here and everyone would think I was a prostitute.

"Ma'am," the detective said, but I couldn't concentrate enough to respond. I don't know when I started gasping for air, but I did. - She is fine? - Clark – the love of my life – Carson asked. Judging by the tone of his voice, he abandoned his post on the threshold and approached. I spent years of my life observing – not stalking – this man, so I knew he enjoyed spending time at the police station. How the hell did I forget that? I must have buried this and all the information about Clark deep in the abyss of my mind. The sound of the door closing proved my theory right. This wasn't happening. I couldn't be here. Was there some kind of magic that could make me disappear? Was Wisconsin prone to earthquakes? And if so, could someone come and make the earth swallow me? "I'm not a whore," I gasped, because it had to be stated. "Okay," Clark said. Inhale. Exhale. "What the hell is going on, Dex? Clark asked. I didn't dare look up, but I could see her profile heading towards the detective. Detective Dex looked funny, and this wasn't the time to find something like that funny, but I snorted. I could feel his eyes on me, and I felt my cheeks heat up. Yes, I was having some kind of stroke. Well, if I was dying, it was "do or die" time, and it was established that I was a "go big or go home" kind of girl. I dared to take a peek and, damn, it was him. His hair was cut a little shorter on the bottom and a little longer on top, and maybe it had been combed before, but now it looked like he had run his hands through his hair a little too much. His eyebrows were thick, but not overly bushy, and his face was no longer clean-shaven. A trimmed beard adorned him – and oh, my God, it did wonders for his face. His nose was a little crooked, but that didn't take away from the fact that Clark Carson had grown into his appearance. Alongside his brother, Jake, Clark was often overlooked, but to me, he always stood out. It was safe to say he didn't remember me, and for some reason that hurt. "Ma'am, the sooner you start cooperating, the sooner we can resolve this," the detective said, bringing my attention back to him. "I'm not a whore," I squeaked. I could feel the detective's eyes on me, but I didn't dare look up. We were discussing this for the last five minutes. "I think you've made that pretty clear," he told me with an amused tone. - Let's continue. "Okay," I whispered. - What is your name? - The detective asked, and my heart skipped a beat. There was a significant pause, and before he could understand, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I raised my hand and tried to smile at Clark, but it looked more like a grimace. God, I was the stupid girl chasing him. - Hey, Clark. - My voice sounded weak even to my own ears. I was waving like an idiot, and the two men just stared at me. The detective was looking at Clark now with a raised eyebrow, and Clark tilted his head as he looked at me. Yes, he doesn't remember me. I sighed. Before he could figure it out, the door opened once more. The handsome man who was with Mayor Skeevy came in and his nose didn't look good. My damn bad. Since I wasn't handcuffed, I stood up and turned to the handsome man who was scowling at me. "I'm sorry, it was an accident," I told him when I saw the red drops of blood on his crisp white shirt. He looked at me. - You threw a bottle at my nose. - Sorry! I panicked," I whined. - Who throws a bottle at a man who is trying to help them? This took me by surprise. - Were you trying to help me? - I played. He gave me an exasperated look. - How should I know that? I thought you were trying to kidnap me! - Kidnap you? - he mocked. - Yes, why else would you try to pick up a woman in a strip club? -Strip club? - Clark no longer-love-of-my-life asked. The Man with the Broken Nose looked like he was going to say more, but his upper lip trembled as if he was fighting a smile. He then looked past me to Detective Dex and Clark as he pointed his finger at me. - I don't know her, but I don't think I could handle her and Freya together. The detective laughed. That name sounded familiar, but I didn't know where. - Freya has been good. Now that she's dealt with Bethany, there's nothing left for her to do," the detective stated. Without thinking, I looked back at Clark and the detective. - Bethany Vails? The detectives immediately became impassive, and I didn't dare look at Clark. - Why? Detective Dex's eyes narrowed. I pointed the finger at myself and sighed. - Oriana Va... As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw it clicking for Clark, just who I was. He looked at me and blinked slowly. It would have been comical under other circumstances. - Shit. Oreos? he asked as he took a step closer. My nose wrinkled. I hated that nickname. It was childish and reminded me of when he rejected me. I mean, I understand. He was in his early twenties and I was a teenager. There was no other option. - Why is she here? he asked the detective, and then his head turned toward me. "What do you mean you're not a prostitute?" I opened my mouth to finally try to explain this whole mess of a situation. - Why were you talking about my sister? It wasn't me explaining the situation, but I wanted to know exactly how it was "handled". I know I said I hated her, but wishing her brother dead was frighteningly dark. Broken Nose Guy started laughing. I was going to get whiplash the way I kept going back and forth between them all. "You're Bethany's little sister," he teased, but his eyes were on Clark. Son of a bitch, he knew. If there was ever a time to curse, it was now. My face felt hot. Better than eating a bag of hot Cheetos with zero water. I looked at the detective, who seemed clueless. - You have my consent to shoot me... in the head, preferably. Do it quickly. The detective's lips twitched, but he didn't seem shocked by my talent for drama. "I feel like I'm missing something," he expressed as he looked at Clark and Broken Nose Guy. "Your gun between my eyes," I murmured. "Oreo," Clark said as he started to approach me. Instinctively, I took a step back. - Can you tell us what happened tonight? That question was enough to remind me of the situation I found myself in. I breathed heavily, trying to think how this would work. What would my work say? And Lucas? He was two years old, but it was a critical little thing. The other day he complained because my Mickey ear pancakes were uneven. Would my job fire me for tonight? Had I blown my cover with Mayor Skeevy? Would