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I breathe deep and exhale slowly. And then do it again. When I feel like I have a grip on myself, I drop my arm back to my side and fixate on my dresser.
On top of my dresser is the binder Cole found last night. I may have said that I’d turn it in to the cops, and I will, but I want to look through it first. If Neil’s going tohaunt me, I want to know more about him even if it’s all just legal documents. However, it raises a lot of questions about why it was under the floor in the first place.
What could have possessed him to put it there? Why hide it so well? I’ll probably never get that answer, but I’m curious enough about its contents to shove back the quilt and head to the dresser.
With the binder in hand, I sit on the edge of the bed and unzip it. Carefully, I flip it open. I move aside the contract I read last night. There are a few other contracts between Neil and people I don’t know, rental agreements it would seem, so I move them aside as well.
My eyes widen with what I find next. “A restraining order?” I whisper as I gently pick it up. Curiosity fully peaked, I quickly read it.
The restraining order is for my landlord, Derek. Neil was going to put a restraining order on him due to some vandalization and threats. I drop the hand holding the paper and frown at the adjacent wall.
I knew they didn’t get along, but things got so heated between them that Neil was going to put a restraining order against him? The document was never turned in. It’s still the packet you fill out to give to a judge.
The big question is: Why didn’t he turn it in? Why didn’t he go forward with it? And another big question is: What the hell did Derek do or say that Neil felt he needed protection?
A horrible feeling settles in the pit of my gut. Whatever it was, Neil felt threatened by his own brother.
A sound outside my bedroom quickly shoves my thoughts aside. In what can only be the kitchen, I hear Cole curse as a pan hits the ground. I nearly jump out of my skin, having been so lost in thought that, for a moment there, I forgot Cole was even in the house.
I quickly assemble the papers to the way I found them and zip the binder back up. Then I get up and dig in my top dresser drawer. When I find the tote bag I’m looking for amongst the mismatched socks and cute underwear and granny panties, I snap it open and slide the binder inside. I won’t be turning this in to the cops today. Instead, I’m working at Tori’s shop, helping her put the final touches before opening next week. You bet your ass that, on our downtime, we’re going to go through this binder more thoroughly. I know I won’t even have to ask Tori to help. She’ll want to see all the dirty details for herself.
The tote thumps on the edge of the bed as I flop it down. I quickly get dressed, sliding on jeans and a simple graphic t-shirt. Socks come next and then shoes. I may have cleaned up the dust and cobwebs, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t construction materials all over the house. I have no desire to ruin good socks even if they are mismatched.
I grab the tote and head out of the bedroom in search of Cole. I need to leave soon, but first, I want to talk to him, to thank him for staying the night. I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful in any way. And I don’t want him to feel like I’m using him for sex and security.
Cole’s back is toward me as I enter the kitchen. He’s hovering over the stove, and the scents of coffee and cooking eggs reach my nose and make my stomach grumble. My heart warms a little because Cole definitely doesn’t seem the type to cook.
“Morning,” I say. I step farther into the room and set the tote on the wood counter.
He peers at me from over his shoulder. His eyes are tired-looking, as if he literally got up minutes before me, and I find that completely sweet. He hadn’t left me to workon the house like I thought. Instead, he left to make us breakfast.
“Are you making breakfast?” I ask.
He grunts as he pulls the pan of eggs off the burner. He dishes some out onto plates, grabs two spoons from the drawer, and heads to me.
“Thanks,” I say, my heart skipping a few beats. He cooked me breakfast! I don’t know whether to be impressed or feel guilty.
“I can’t cook, so eat at your own risk,” he murmurs, crossing the kitchen to the coffee pot and pouring the brew into two mugs.
He returns to my side and passes me one. I set my plate down next to the tote and take it gratefully. Around a bite of egg, I say, “It tastes good to me.”
From behind the mug brought to his lips, he smiles a little. We eat in silence, and I watch him take every bite. Every now and then, he glances at me with a raised eyebrow. Eventually, he grunts, “You’re staring.”
I set my spoon down, my plate empty, and take a sip of my coffee. “I want some answers.”
“About?” he asks as he slides the last bite into his mouth.
I nibble my bottom lip as I consider how to ask this, and when I find no better way than being direct, I sigh. “Why did you go to jail, Cole?”
He stiffens but tries to hide his discomfort by blowing on the steam of his coffee. “Does it matter?”
I shrug a little. “We are sleeping together. And I’d like to … um… consider usfriends.” That was hard to spit out, for some odd reason.
His mug quietly clunks as he sets it on the wood. “We can still be what we are without knowing everything about each other.”
“I deserve to know,” I say softly, fiddling with the hem of my shirt with my hand not holding the mug. “And from your mouth and not from someone in town.”
His jaw flexes as he goes silent. I can tell he’s struggling with himself, so I give him some grace and remain quiet. Eventually, he turns to me and rumbles, “Murder.”
