And I worried he did. He already knew we were half-witch. It wouldn’t take a huge leap for him to realize why everyone thought our fae powers were tainted.
“Why did you think my mother was involved?” I said in a rush, hoping not to give him too much time to think about my last answer.
“There was evidence of a love potion among his things.”
Did that explain why Easton had looked sick? Maybe someone had given him something. I guess the police questioning Mom made sense. We were the most prominentbusiness in town that sold love potions. And now that I knew that, his reaction when Jane introduced us as Bennets made sense too. He probably already suspected Mom’s involvement.
“You realize that anyone could have bought a potion from the bakery and then tampered with it, right?” I said. Mom was a desperate social climber, but a killer? That was a bit of a stretch.
“Is that another question?”
I blew out a puff of air. “No.”
He laughed softly. “When I checked the toxicology report, there weren’t any signs of poison, just residual traces of the potion.”
“So no one tampered with it after it was bought.” I mulled over the info. “I think you’re on the wrong track with the potion. We should look into other leads, like who Easton was close to in your group.” I chewed my lip in thought, but Darcy’s next question brought me up short.
“Did you do something to me earlier to make me tell you the truth in the Ferris wheel?”
My face heated. I shouldn’t have used the veritas potion on Darcy. It hadn’t felt like such an invasion when I’dbelieved him guilty of murder, but now that I knew he was innocent, it was hard not to think of the things he hadn’t meant to share with me. Despite our deal,Icould still lie. Not being bound to our word, as well as not worrying about glamouring pointed ears, was one of the few advantages of being half-fae. Even still, I owed him the truth.
“I thought you were the killer, so I gave you a truth potion to force a confession from you. And I’m sorry. About that and for accusing you of murder.” Before he could contemplate my answer, I rushed to ask, “Why did you agree to come to the fair?” It wasn’t because he wanted to spend time with me.
He was silent for a moment, but when I opened my mouth to remind him of the deal, he said, “Charles and I were following a lead.”
“About the murder?”
He shrugged.
“That was extremely unhelpful.”
“But it’s the truth.” His smirk coated his voice, and my hands twitched to cover his face with a pillow.
He fell silent, and I couldn’t tell if I was disappointed or relieved for the questions to be at an end. I needed to find out more about Easton if I wanted to figure out other motives people might have for killing him, but I didn’t want to answer any more questions.
I sighed. “I’ll admit that I still can’t even begin to understand you, but I suspect you prefer it that way.”
“I think you understand more than you know,” he said almost too softly to hear. His fingers extended and brushed mine, then pulled back.
I chewed on my lip, unsure if the gesture had been accidental or intentional.
Darcy’s attention dropped to my mouth for the briefest of moments before he rolled onto his back again. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We can deal with this in the morning.” He pulled his phone out with his free hand, effectively ending the conversation.
He was serious about having things to take care of tonight. He was also careful to keep his phone turned so I couldn’t see anything other than the glow the screen cast on his face, reflecting off his dark eyes and making the line of his jaw sharper.
It was hard to admit I’d been so wrong about him—at least about the killing part—but there was more he wasn’t telling me, more that might be related to Easton’s murder. Iwasgoing to get to the bottom of it.
“Do you need something?” he said without looking over.
“No.” I flushed and turned my head away. “Good night.” The words escaped out of habit, and I stiffened at how strangely intimate they felt. The surrealism of the moment hung between us like a half-finished spell waiting to be remembered.
“Night.” Another faint tug on my wrist accompanied the word, then a soft sigh from Darcy, and all was quiet except for the tapping of his phone.
The bed creaked under me as I shifted, searching for a comfortable position. But who was I kidding? There was no getting comfortable with Darcy two feet away. Tension thrummed between us. Despite his nonchalant attitude, I could tell he felt it too by the way he deliberately avoided facing me again, even as his body heat inched closer through the thin, silky sheets.
I tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall asleep while Darcy worked next to me, texting incessantly. If I weren’t there, he probably would’ve been talking on the phone instead, but he was so determined to hold his secrets close to his chest.
The lucky secrets.
