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Vincent looks the same as he did two years ago, except for his eyes. The blue has turned a murky grey, as if part of him died.
I suppose it did.
But River and I chose to stay while he left the bureau entirely after the tragedy.
“No,” he says to me, his voice low and raspy. “Go.”
“You’re the best detective I’ve ever known,” I say. “I wouldn’t be here unless I needed to be. Five minutes of your time, Vincent. Please.”
He narrows his eyes, but I hear the chain to his door unlatch.
“Two minutes,” he says. “Not five. Then you can get the fuck out.”
A ghost of a smile crosses my lips.
20
SKYLAR
I have a fever.
I can feel the sweat drip down my back as I struggle to finish up the orders for the day. Devyn is busy running the register, and I stay behind the counter, piping icing onto macarons.
I took too many days off, and even though the staff has done a decent job running the café, I notice the disorganized inventory and messy pastry display cases.
Unfortunately, my concussion left me no choice but to stay home.
Now, my skin is hot and flushed, my mating gland itches, and my womb cramps.
My Heat is coming.
I haven’t had one in a year, and it’s about to hit me like a tidal wave.
“Oh, God,” I groan to myself, wiping flour off my apron.
“Are you okay?” Luke asks me, placing a cup of ice water next to me. “You don’t look too great, Skye.”
I close my eyes and breathe slowly in and out.
“Honestly? I haven’t been okay in weeks,” I say, wiping my hair from my forehead. “But I’m hanging in there.”
We finally have a break in the stream of customers, and Devyn comes over to join me. “You could have taken another week off,” she insists, organizing the rose macarons into their Valentine’s Day boxes. “We have it taken care of here.”
“No, I need to be back,” I say, grimacing. My hand goes to my stomach, and I exhale through gritted teeth.
“No, really, Ben’s been working on things for April, and you still have your concussion—”
“Devyn. It’s not my concussion” I say pointedly. “It’s something else.”
“What could—oh? Oh.” Her eyes widen as she figures it out. “Your Heat?” she whispers. “You said you haven’t had a Heat in a year!”
I nod. “Exactly. And Landon is coming over on Sunday. And he’s bringing River.”
She blinks, then a slow, wicked smile forms on her face.
I scowl at her. “No. It’s not for that. They’re going to touch base with me about April. And Landon said he wanted to compare some notes with Ben.”
But her grin only grows, and she waggles her eyebrows at me.
