My eyes fall closed. I want to stay here forever. Behind this layer of fog where everything is so clear. Where he’s honest, and open, andmine.But the timing was intentional. He needed to feel like he had an escape, or hewouldn’t have trusted himself to do it. But I needed to take us there. Closer to the point of no return.
With one last gentle kiss to his perfect lips, I shift away from him.
“I’ll meet you down there,” I tell him, and he nods, scrubbing a hand over his mouth before reluctantly retreating toward the door before he disappears through it.
The cold air prickling my skin is a painful reminder of his absence, and the marble floors in the bathroom don’t help. The first thing I do is slide my feet into my slippers by the sink before facing my reflection in the mirror.
I press the pads of my fingers to the tender, red splotch blooming across my cheekbone. I press harder, resisting the wince that threatens to build in my throat and watching the skin under my fingertips turn from red to white under the pressure.
Motherfucker.
I’mthisclose to earning Colin’s trust, and this loser and his friends are going to ruin everything.
My fingers continue toward my mouth, ghosting over my lips, tracing where Colin’s had been and the path the fire had taken as it zipped through us.
After brushing my tangled hair out, I pull it into a knot at the top of my head and slip my short, silk robe over my body. I have a vague memory of Colin helping me change once he got me home—again. He’d left me to sleep in my party dress the first time, but this time he helped me change into a pair of flannel shorts and a tank top.
Warmth rushes toward my thighs again as the memory of his touch floods through my brain. I trace my fingertips across my skin where his traveled, my eyes lingering where his did on my chest as he helped me pull the shirt over my head. It wasn’t strictly platonic by any means, but he did his best to hide his urge to claim me. I still saw it, even in my haze.
I leave my room and descend the staircase, seating myself on the couch across from Colin’s female co-worker who’s dressed in a grey pantsuit and black heels. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and I can’t help the jealousy that flows through my blood at the thought of them cooped up in their department all day together, pouring over witness statements or crime scene photos. Fingers grazing as they sift through documents. Late nights where time becomes an illusion and the tension of trying to solve a crime together turns into longing.
I want to throttle her, for no good reason other than thepossibilitythat she ever tries to make a move on my man.
She clears her throat in front of me, and I speak before she has a chance to.
“Did Colin offer you something to drink?” I’m asserting dominance, attempting to imply that this is his home as much as it is mine.He belongs to me, you witch.
She casts a glance back at Colin who’s standing with his back to us, staring out the French doors toward the pool. The eerie glow of the water glimmers around him, and he keeps his gaze trained away from us.
“He did,” she assures me.Good man.“I appreciate you taking the time to chat with me,” she continues, laying the folder in her hands onto the coffee table between us.
“Of course. Anything to help find the man who did this.”So I can rip his eyes out.
“I’m Lucy.” She smiles gently, trying to break the ice. I nod at her to get to the fucking point so I can be alone with Colin again. “Can you tell me what happened the night of the party?”
I cross my bare legs and tug the silk material of my robe further down my thigh. Lucy’s gaze tracks the movement. Colin turns from his spot by the door behind Lucy, and she can’t see that his eyes track the movements, as well, his gaze trailing slowly up each leg and getting lost in the darknesshidden beneath my robe. His hands grip his biceps tighter as he keeps his arms wound together across his chest, turning away from us again.
“I don’t remember much,” I tell her honestly.
“Tell me what you do remember.” I glance at Colin behind her, which causes her to turn around and assess him before she turns back to me.
“Would you feel more comfortable if he wasn’t here?”
“No,” I rush out.I’d feel more comfortable ifyouweren’t here.
“I know Detective Mills helped you home that night. And the paramedic who took your blood reported you were pretty dazed.”
“The paramedic,” I repeat, feeling gaslit.
Lucy nods, opening the folder in front of her and sliding a piece of paper in my direction. I lift it from the table, tearing my eyes from Colin’s back to read the report of the paramedic who responded to the scene of a potential drug administration at a party. It’s the first time I’m hearing of such a thing, and my eyes hungrily devour every word.
According to the report, the phone call to paramedics went directly to the dispatch center, instead of via 911. They responded to the party within minutes, finding me and Colin on the curb out front, taking my vitals and blood before allowing Colin to take me home. The reporting party listed on the report is Micah Winters, the wordsDevil’s Peak Police Department employeescribbled next to his name.
The only problem is, I’m almost positive the whole thing is fabricated. I set the paper back down onto the coffee table, leaning back into the couch.
“I have no recollection of being drugged. I have no recollection of the party at all,” I tell Lucy. She turns her eyes to the little journal clutched in her hand and writes something down.
“What did you do the next day?” she asks, returning her gaze to mine.
