Page 59 of Plain Sight

“Go team,” Nate says softly.

Jameson doesn’t laugh. “We are.”

“But you left in the middle of the night to do a murder, and—what am I supposed to do with that? You can’t do this again! This has to be the last time!”

“I know.”

“We have to be a team.” My voice is Vesuvius now, giving a shaky warning. “You can’t just—just leave. Do you understand? I can’t wait for you to come back like this. I have to have another way to—to live. I have to go to law school.”

Jameson blinks. “You can go to law school, if that’s what you⁠—”

“I have to have a safety net. My mother didn’t have one, and we don’t know what happened to her. I can’t be on my own like that. If I can’t count on you⁠—”

His face shutters. “No. Really, Lily, I think you should go. Wherever you want. Law school is a great idea. It’s a reliable pathway to employment.”

“Are you going to start killing people? Because⁠—”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Jameson says flatly.

“He didn’t,” Mason confirms. “There was a small house fire.”

Gabriel looks at Elise, his expression absolutely innocent. “Just a little one,” he sings.

“Was anyone hurt?” I don’t know if I’m horrified that my grandfather might have been hurt, or horrified that he wasn’t hurt, or just plain horrified. “You didn’t hurt anyone, did you?”

“Your grandfather was escorted away by the police for questioning.” Mason glances at Jameson, then back at me. “But he wasn’t hurt. He had a superficial wound, but he’s going to be fine. I mean to say—he won’t have lasting damage from any wounds. He won’t be a judge, either, which might be worse for him.”

I thought my life wouldn’t rearrange again until the baby was born, but it’s happening in front of my eyes.

This isn’t just the future. It’s the past. There’s solid evidence that my grandfather was not who he pretended to be. He might never have been the man he pretended to be.

I have to rethink everything.

But first⁠—

I take a longer look at Jameson.

And now that my emotions are less Vesuvius-like, I can see that he’s not okay. The blood on his face is from a cut on his finger, I think, but that’s not the worst of it. He has deep bruises under his eyes, and his expression reminds me of shattering glass.

“Jameson,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you. I’m frustrated because I was scared, and I thought you might—I thought you might do something really bad, or get badly hurt again, and I didn’t want that for you. Don’t listen to me about law school. It’s the middle of the night. It’s not time to talk about stuff like that.”

“You can leave.” Jameson’s eyes make my heart sink. “If that’s what you want. I won’t stop you.”

“I don’t want that. I want to be married to you. Of course I do. I was just scared.”

He stares at me for several beats.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” My voice will not stop shaking. I wish I could get it together enough to sound cool and self-possessed while also sounding warm and empathetic. I don’t know if that’s possible. “Do you want to get cleaned up? Take a shower, maybe? And then we can look at your hand? I think you have a cut there. We can talk while I clean up. I can help you with whatever you need. I’m really okay now. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Silence.

“Would that be okay?” I ask. This is what Pompeii must have felt like. Lots of people escaped before the eruption destroyed the city, but lots of people didn’t. Maybe they were hoping the worst wouldn’t happen. Maybe they hoped until it was too late.

Please, let it not be too late.

“Sure.” Jameson sounds dead. I’ve never heard him like this before. From the look Mason gives Gabriel, he hasn’t, either, or he hasn’t heard it in a long time. “That’s fine. I just have to do one thing first.”