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I’m expecting Detective Angleson.
Hell, I’m half-expecting my mom or dad to have followed me out here, wanting to check that I’m okay. But when I see Phoenix’s face, his eyes wide and soft and full of concern, standing a few feet away from Rory, who just exists without giving me any indication of how he feels, though his gaze is firmly on mine.
“Oh,” I sigh, turning to lean my back on the tree as if it’ll give me some kind of support. “It’s you.” I let my gaze slide between them, from Rory’s unreadable existence to Phoenix’s expression that’s too much for me to take in right now.
At least without an emotional support bottle of wine.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask, when neither of them speak, and go back to my favorite hobby of studying their body language without looking at either of their faces.
“Yes.” It shouldn’t surprise me that Rory is the one to answer, and that he does so with very little hesitation. “You’re easy to stalk.”
“I wasn’t exactly tryingnotto be,” I point out, sinking down to sit against Agnes’s tree. I see Phoenix stiffen a little as I do, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“You know it’s bad luck to sit under her tree,” he points out mildly, like he isn’t too sure of his words.
“Sit under it, sleep under, walk under it. I think thetreeis just bad luck in any circumstance,” I reply, dragging my feet through the dead leaves. “But I’ve been coming here all of my life and I really don’t think the tree has made things any worse.” Especially this week. I’ve been under the tree at least twice now, but nothing has killed me in a freak accident, or whatever form the bad luck is supposed to take. “Why are you stalking me?”
I don’t get a response. Instead, I get Rory’s sigh, and he trudges up the hill to the tree that’s obscured by the woods beyond. He flops down beside me in the grass and dirt, shoulder brushing mine as he leans against the smooth white oak as well.
But Phoenix doesn’t move. He stands there, fidgeting, and I can feel him looking me over as I shred brown leaves between my fingers.
“You look like you just crawled out of bed,” Rory informs me, turning to grin in my direction. “Didyou just wake up before you came here? Are your parents looking for you?”
“Yeah,” I retort. “Dad’s about to appear from those trees behind your boyfriend; you just wait.” As if mentioning him has summonedhim, Phoenix walks up the hill slowly, until he’s standing right in front of me and I have to tilt my head up to see him.
“Why are you stalking me?” I askagain, not moving when his hands rests against my hair, fingers scraping against my scalp. “Pretty sure I’m not that interesting, or worth your time while you have more important things to do.” I arch a brow, but when I see the hilt of the knife Phoenix carries at his waist, my stomach flips. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and decided I’m responsible for Daisy’s death, too?” I hate the hiccup of fear that trembles through my voice. Idespisethe way my tone goes up a few notes, and worse still is how I’m sure Phoenix hears it too. Otherwise, his hand tightening in my hair is just really good timing.
“Well, we’re certainly not about to kill you,” Rory scoffs, turning to rest his chin on my shoulder. “He thought you would run away when you saw us, so we’ve been keeping our distance since you left your house.”
“That’s not creepy at all,” I mutter, turning to look at him while praying Phoenix doesn’t pull his hand away. His nails against my scalp are comforting, and I could definitely go to sleep fast if he’d do this for me while we’re in bed, or at least somewhere that my ass isn’t getting colder by the minute thanks to the almost-frozen ground below us.
“Are you okay?” Phoenix interrupts Rory when he starts speaking again, and sinks down in front of me, hands moving so he can cup my face with them. His eyes are filled with more worry than I expect, and it’s hard for me to hold his gaze.
Worse than hard. It’simpossible.In seconds, I’ve cut my gaze to the side to focus on a particularly bright orange leaf, though the guilt that I feel at doing so makes everything worse. “It’s not you,” I tell him, in case he’s forgotten after not having heard my stupid explanation for my allergy to eye contact in a few years. “It’s—”
“Heavy,” he cuts in, using my exact word. “Too heavy for you to hold. You’re not hurting my feelings, Bailey. I know you need time to process and not look at my eyes.”
If he wasn’t a murderer, he’d be the perfect boyfriend. Though if I’m honest with myself, I’m not suremurdereris the red flag for me that it should be.
My hands come up and I stroke my fingers over his knuckles, wishing I could stare him down until he understands that I’m not afraid of him after last night. “If you ever chase me through the woods with a knife again, I’m throwing a rock at your head,” I inform Rory, turning my head in his direction so he knows the threat is all for him.
But all I get is a snort, and his arm wrapping around my shoulders. “OhBailey,” he sighs after a few seconds. “What am I going to do with you? After Phoenix, I said I’d never date a murder virgin again. But you really are just too tempting, aren’t you?”
“Date me?” I blink owlishly at the words, feeling stupid. “But you’re dating Phoenix.”Did you break up? Is on my tongue, but surely not, if they’re still here, acting like this. Frankly, they feel like they’re in it for the long haul, and I’m surprised there aren’t already rings on their fingers.
They’re justthatgood together. That natural, and that…perfect, I suppose.
“Oh, sweetheart…” Phoenix’s lips twitch into a smile. “You didn’t think we just wanted to have fun and leave you behind, did you?”
Of course I did. All of his pretty words were nice. Especially the ones about keeping me. Not that I have any plans to airthatparticular personal point of interest.
“I…” I don’t know how to reply without my disbelief coming through loud and clear. One of my hands leaves his, wandering up to Rory’s hair, where I gently sink my fingers into the auburn strands I’ve wanted to touch for days.Fuck,his hair is just as soft as I’d imagined, and the low, grating groan he lets out against my throat shows me he has no problem with me exploring it. “Yes?”
“No,” Phoenix replies flatly. “He was right when he said I’ve been interested in—”
“Obsessed with,” Rory corrects. “You’ve beenobsessedwith her since we came back. Since before that, if you’re being honest with yourself.” He sniffs, then nuzzles my jaw to whisper, “If I were a lesser serial killer, I might be jealous.”
“I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say in this situation,” I point out, turning to look at his lips. God, he has such kissable lips.
