Page 93 of XO Karma

“Where are you going?” My lips are swollen, tingling, and already aching for more. Am I… missing him?

He winks, tugging on a pair of athletic shorts, and I watch shamelessly in admiration. “I’m gonna grab us some coffee. Feel free to snoop in case you missed something the first time around.”

“Aster!” I squeal, chucking a pillow at him, but he’s out the door.

After convincing myself not to masturbate in his bed, although I’m sure he’d be delighted by that idea, I drag myself off the mattress, pad over to his dresser, and borrow a vintage band tee. It’s perfectly oversized and so damn cozy.

Nothing has changed since the first time I was here. Same photos on the walls, same addictive smell. I venture across the hall to the art room, finding a new gnome atop his workstation. On the wall, there are a few more frames I didn’t notice before. One containing a twenty-something Aster in a graduation gown, with a younger girl and a guy around his age.

“Here you go,” Aster says, walking in the room. His eyes fall to the picture as I grab my coffee.

“Who are they?” I ask before taking a sip. It’s delicious and exactly how I like it. It should scare me that he knows so much about me, yet my knowledge on his personal life is scarce. But maybe it’s because I’ve been so focused on Grim instead of Aster. Meanwhile, he’s been focused on Lily instead of Karma. Guilt settles inside me.

“My siblings,” he replies in a tone I can’t decipher.

I rub my thumb over the frame. “Are you close?”

A silence passes between us, and I glance his way, worried I’ve already overstepped. His gaze is distant, still focused on the photo. “We were.”

“What happened?”

His eyes meet mine. “My brother was killed.”

My lips part, and it’s a semi-truck to the chest. Is that why I feel such a connection to him? Two grieving souls just trying to right the wrongs of the world. “I’m so sorry.”

“My sister and I… we try to stay in touch, but it’s hard, you know?”

I nod. “I do.”

“Do you have any siblings?” he asks, seemingly trying to swap the topic of conversation off him. “Besides Detective Dick, I mean?”

I snort, rolling my eyes as I take a sip of coffee. “Nope, just Liam.” I swallow hard. “Violet, my best friend, who, um, died, she was like a sister though.” My eyes return to the photo. “I mean, I know it’s not the same as losing a real sibling, but⁠—”

“It hurts all the same,” he says, and I nod. “How long had you known each other?”

Had. Past tense. It’s been almost a year, and I’m still hardly used to referring to Violet as a “was” rather than an “is.”

“Since we were seven,” I finally force out.

He sets his mug down, plucking mine out of my hands and doing the same. Then he pulls me to him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“At the art gala, in the hallway, you said I killed her. Violet.”

I shake my head. “I realize now that couldn’t have been you.”

“She was a victim of the Kodak Killer?” he asks, and the black hole that surrounds my heart trembles, threatening to swallow me whole.

“Yes,” I say quietly, and he reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“We’re going to find him.”

I place my hand on his, squeezing. “I hope so.”

“We will,” he assures me, and in an effort to avoid diving into the darkness of my grief, I step away to continue admiring his space.

Passing a wall of gnomes, I pause and gesture towards them. “Is there an explanation for this?”