I clutch the comforter closer to me to make the entire situation more pitiful. How could he do that? How could he question Sam when he knows I trust him completely? He’s probably the only person in the world I can, even with my eyes closed.
And his accusation was so absurd. But it makes sense. He never thought I was capable of dealing with werewolves or getting involved with his cases. Hell, he wouldn’t let me work on the case about the killer copyingmymurders. Oh, wait, to him, the killer is copying Sam because I’m not even the Vigilante Hunter, only a measly henchman.
Fuck him. I don’t need him, his suffocating hugs, his constant affection, or his love. I groan against the pillow. Why can’t this be simpler? We were doing so well. I’d even started to believe he could really love me someday. He was trying so hard.
I finally let the tears flow then. I know I didn’t deservehim. Knew it when he confessed his love for me. When he killed his colleague for me. When he lied to all his friends for me. When he cooked for me. When he patiently listened to me complain about the entire world. Especially when he didn't deny a single thing I said today.
We were doomed to fail. Our lives are too incompatible ever to merge. I know I didn’t deserve to be that happy, but fuck it if I won’t let myself grieve its loss. As the tears wet my pillow, I let myself imagine his arms around me, pulling me against him. I imagine the warm cocoon that always lulled me to sleep, even on the days it was impossible to shut my brain off.
I drift off imagining his breath against my neck, raising goosebumps all over my body.
I startle awake to loud noises coming from the living room, light streaming through my open windows. I check my phone, panicking that I've missed my early appointments, only to remember we close the clinic on weekends now. A decision I made to make my life feel more normal.
What a pathetic plan. People with normal lives don’t have to pretend to be someone else every day. People with normal lives don’t feel like they don’t fit in their lives, like it’s a piece of clothing two sizes too small.
I rub my crusty eyes and make a quick round to the bathroom to fix myself up before making an appearance outside.
Sam has got eggs and a giant bag of bread on the counter.
“Are we hosting a party?” I ask.
He turns to look at me. “Thankfully, we’re not, because the way you look, you won’t be invited to any of my parties even if I were hosting at your place. What’s going on?”
I walk around the counter and settle onto a stool across from him. He cracks an egg into a bowl. “Just tired.” I cop out. How do you tell your friend your boyfriend suspects you’re still murdering werewolves? Even Vanessa Van Edwards didn’t cover this situation in her books.
Sam frowns at the bowl before looking up at me. “Wait,why are you here? Weren’t you staying over at Nick’s?”
There goes my plan of not mentioning the whole thing. “Uh… I didn’t want to stay.”
The whisking stops. “You guys fight?”
I jump out of my stool. Turns out this conversation can’t happen without coffee. A lot of coffee.
“Oh my god, you really did. What was it about? How you want to raise Mickey? No, that's too basic…” Sam keeps rambling, trailing after me as I pour myself some coffee.
I take a long sip, ignoring him completely. Then another for safety. Mug in hand, I settle onto the stool again as Sam follows me.
“We need to find the killer,” I say.
He snaps his mouth shut, looking confused for a second before picking the whisker back. “So, no help from the Bureau on this?”
I shake my head. “We’re all on our own with very little time.” If we find the killer quickly, I won’t need to bring up Nicholas’s stupid accusation at all. Win-win.
“Well, lucky for you, I excel at impossible tasks.” He puts a slice of bread in the pan. “Can you take over for a sec?” He rushes out, leaving the heat on.
I dart around the counter, moving faster than my brain is prepared for this soon after waking up.
By the time Sam comes back with his laptop, I've toasted the first slice to a perfect crunch, and the next one's already in the pan. “I gave some thought to what you said about accessing the Bureau's resources. Then my brain went on a spiral about how dependent we are on your giant lover boy, and that’s not the best situation. Great guy, not very forthcoming. So, I checked his contacts from the data I’d cloned from his super-secret phone when he was over the other day.”
“You didwhat?”
“What? Nothing. Anyway, I found the information from someone on the Bureau's tech team. I followed the guy yesterday, and you know what? He hangs out at this gym I’vebeen planning to join while I’m here. Crazy,right?”
My eyes widen with his every word. “What did you do, Sam?”
“Long story short, I now have access to all the Bureau data. I do need IDs to get some of them, but give me a few days and I’ll be able to bypass them all. I do have the list of your precious possible victims, though.” He looks at me with a wide smile and expectant eyes.
My jaw drops, the bread forgotten on the stove. A sharp, burning smell brings my attention back to it. I throw it in the trash can, turning the stove off.“What the fuck, Sam?” What if Nicholas finds out about this? He’ll have more fodder to feed his suspicions. Ugh, what if he uses this as evidence?
