“Murders.”
“Who?” I ask too eagerly. Colin turns from the door again, moving in our direction but remaining on the other side of the couch. He leans against the furniture, his hands gripping the frame as he keeps his eyes focused on mine, eager to see my reaction to what I already know Lucy is about to say.
“Richard Soffett and Grayson Tyler.”
17
Chloe
“Morning, panda bear,” I greet Colin, circling into the kitchen to where he stands in front of another beautiful breakfast.
He laughs, the sound of it reverberating from his chest flooding me with warmth. It’s not a sound I’ve heard very often, at least not when it sounds this light and honest. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
I shrug, reaching for the avocado toast and taking a bite. “Probably not,” I mumble around the mouthful of food.
I’ve managed to corner him against the kitchen counter, and I’m standing close enough that our bodies are brushing with every slight movement. He watches me eat, like he did last time, his brow furrowed and eyes unable to keep themselves from flicking to the movement of my mouth.
His walls have been up again since the kiss. Taking steps back into the shade of familiarity instead of being willing to entertain what the glorious glow of acceptance would feel like.
When I finish chewing, he lifts the coffee mug from the counter, bringing it to his lips and then extending it in my direction.
“Taste this.”
I hold his stare as I take the cup from him, and the spot where our fingers graze tingles across my skin as my lips land exactly where his had been. His throat works with a swallow as I taste the drink.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him, losing myself in the taste of his lips on the edge of the mug. Losing myself in the color of his eyes that look more gold than green in the morning light—lit up with awe instead of suspicion for once.
I don’t often have men in my space, not since the evil men whose names shall not be spoken.
Anytime I imagine it, shivers of disgust roll through me—along with the memories of what it’s been like in the past. What it’s cost me.
But here, in this moment with Colin, there’s a sharp pain blooming in my lungs and stealing all the air from my body as I stare over at him, grieving the loss of something that’s never been mine. The possibility that he never loves me back—that I won’t be good enough, toobad—picks at my bones like a dull axe, chipping pieces of confidence out of me like it never belonged there in the first place.
“You were out of your usual ingredients, so I had to get creative.”
I force my lips into a smile and Colin seems to sense the tensing of my muscles. His head tilts as he leans back against the counter, setting his hands on the edge before he continues. “I’ll run to the store on my way back.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “You’re leaving?”
“Just for a few hours,” he promises. “And Maeve will be here with you.”
“She will?”
Colin clears his throat, shrugging. “I mean, I’m assuming she will be.”
I study him, wondering why he would assume such a thing. But his hand reaches out and curls around the side of my face, distracting me from whatever suspicion was tugging at my intuition. I lean my head into his hand, my eyelids fluttering closed.
“You don’t deserve this,” he whispers, almost to himself, his thumb gently caressing the tender bruise on my cheekbone.
I open my eyes to him, to his light eyes that are flashing with darkness as if he’s seeing it all happen again. “I don’t?”
Colin shakes his head, his jaw flicking with tension and his thumb continuing to glide against my skin. “No.”
A knock from the front of the house interrupts us, and he releases my face with a regretful look in his eyes. “That’s probably her,” he says, turning from me and forcing me out of his bubble.
I leave him in the kitchen to find Maeve with a bright smile on her face as she stands on my doorstep, her laptop bag hanging off her shoulder. Her smile falls as I stand inside the house, wondering if I’m imagining her. “You look surprised to see me,” she hedges. “I texted you I was coming.”
I shake my head, taking a step back to give her space to come in. “I haven’t checked my phone this morning.”
