Page 102 of Carver’s Craving

I cocked an eyebrow as I approached.

He gently nudged one toward me.

I gasped. My eyes filled and, just like that, I was crying. It’s ice cream, for fuck’s sake. Yet still, when Carver rose, and then held out his arms to me, I fell into them. He pulled me so tight I worried, fleetingly, that he might crack a rib. Still, I clung to him. “He’s going to be okay, Carver. He has to be. I can’t—” I gasped for air. “I can’t lose him. Not after Frank—”

“Shush.” He pressed his cheek to mine. The beard rasped my skin. “If that was Arlene, then I’d say Baxter’s alive. Why would she still be here otherwise?”

I sniffed. “What if—”

“Nope. We’re going to focus on putting everything in an email and sending that to Seth. The rest is just patience. And your tiger tail ice cream is melting.”

Again, I sniffed. “You remembered.”

Finally, he loosened his hold. He cupped my cheek. “Sweetheart, I remember everything. Maybe not from back then. But now? Every word. And I’m going to do my best to make you smile every single day. Now, how about we move to the living room? I’ll sit with the laptop on my lap and you can cuddle with the dogs.”

Poppin pawed at my leg.

I smiled.

“She wants ice cream.”

“Well—” He squinted. “I suppose they each can have half a spoonful of my eggnog. No licorice for them.”

“Nope.” I met Poppin’s gaze. “Wanna sit on the couch with me?”

She bolted over and took her place on the opposite side from Walter. Almost as if saying you need to be the center of a canine sandwich.

I handed Carver the laptop. “I’ll bring the ice cream. Because, yeah, the only thing better than melted ice cream is the unmelted stuff.”

“Is that even a word?”

“Does it matter?”

He grinned. “Nope. Also, find me the business card. Let’s get to work.”

And so we did. He ate his ice cream—leaving just a bit at the bottom.

I gave Poppin and Walter each a taste as I began to word-vomit everything I remembered.

At some point, I gave Carver time to send the first email. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and took the dogs out.

As if she sensed I was in a hurry, Poppin did everything and tugged back toward the house.

Walter headed that way as well.

I hadn’t even had time to get the wagon, and clearly neither dog wanted a walk. “I love you.”

Swear to God, Poppin rolled her eyes, and Walter grinned.

I had them out of their coats, back on the couch, and was settling in as Carver returned from the back hallway.

He sat and shrugged sheepishly. “Had a lot of water with dinner. I wish I’d said something about Arlene first, but honestly, I forgot. Davey made a much bigger impression. And, frankly, I’d convinced myself I was wrong.” He put the laptop back on his lap. “Where were we?”

“I think we covered everything we knew about Arlene. Why don’t we tackle her interactions with the crew and band?” I flapped my hands. “I don’t know. How can any of this possibly help?”

Carver squinted. “Like, I don’t know…a psychological profile? Or something you say might mean something to the cops—even though it seems innocuous.”

“I hope you’re right. Okay…I can talk about her relationship with Marta.” And I was off. Marta was a friend of ours from high school. Arlene had always been jealous of her because she was close to all of us. Which was fucking ridiculous. None of us saw Marta as anyone other than a good friend and our first fan. But Arlene saw things that simply weren’t there.