On the Way Down

Chapter Seven

"How did you find out, 'exactly'?" I make air quotes when I say the last word. He's not about to speak in riddles on my watch.

"From Ava."

I pitch forward and nearly tumble off my stool. Phoenix's arm shoots out to steady me at the same time as I grab hold of the counter.

"What?" I sputter.

There's no chance. None. Then again, that's also what I would have said about spending today with Phoenix if someone had asked me before last weekend, so this could be the upside down world.

"I was with Nash when he stopped in at Torin's house to drop off some gear," he continues. "Torin was FaceTiming with Ava when we got there and I heard her say you were coming to the show."

Thank God. I knew Ava wouldn't do me dirty like that and tip him off directly, but it's strange she didn't mention this. It's also strange that Torin hasn't said a word about being in contact with him, but then, he might have thought it would upset me. Phoenix has been a sensitive subject for years.

"One of them could have warned me."

"I was in another room. Torin didn't know I was there until after he hung up, or that I heard anything either of them said. I also didn't tell him I would be at the show."

"Nash must have known," I insist. "You said he invited you to the after party." Mostly, I want to know how close Phoenix and Torin are these days that Nash would invite him to the house without saying something about it to the actual person who lives there.

"I sent Nash a text ten minutes before I got to Nebula. There was less risk of him telling Torin that way, since they would both be busy getting ready for their set. That also meant there was less risk you would find out."

I narrow my eyes. "You wanted to see me but didn't want me to find out you'd be there?"

Phoenix shifts in his seat. He's either uncomfortable about being called out for his covert actions, or with how I'm glowering at him.

"I was afraid you would change your mind about going, or that Torin might stop me from getting in," he admits. "He's protective of you."

His tone of voice makes me suspect he's had a few exchanges with Torin that I'm not aware of. If I'm right, then I'm beyond curious about what went down between the two of them.

"What makes you say that?" I ask.

"He only gives me one or two-word answers when I ask about you and then changes the subject. I thought he was going to punch me the first time I brought up your name to him after we stopped dating, but I understand why."

This sounds as if he's asked Torin about me more than once. I had no idea. If he wanted insight into how I was doing, though, why didn't he reach out to me?

"You could have asked me what you wanted to know instead of trying to go through him," I point out. "You still had my number."

"It took a long time for me to get my shit together after what I did. Too long." He rubs a hand over his chin. "I honestly didn't think you would answer a call or text from me after all that time."

That's fair, I guess. Once I reached a place in my life where thinking about him wasn't a daily habit, I would have second-guessed picking up the phone or responding to a text.

"You aren't wrong," I concede. "There's still a lot that doesn't explain, though."

"I'll explain whatever you want to know. Should we head out to the beach and continue this there?"

He gets to his feet and grabs the bag from the counter without waiting for a reply. Is he stalling? It's difficult to judge, so I nod, slide off my stool, and leave the kitchen ahead of him. My interrogation will start the second we're on the beach, and he'd better make good on what he just said.