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And why did the thought of losing him freak me out more than keeping him?
When my gaze landed on his shelf full of serial killer books, I decided this uncertainty was completely Jaylani’s fault.
She’d been absolutely convinced something was wrong with him, and now that my senses were screamingyes—don’t let that boy get away—that little seed she’d planted was growing, preventing me from just accepting it for the amazing start of a relationship that it probably was.
I dropped my hands to my sides and drew in a breath to calm myself. But then my gaze landed on the picture of Thalia, or more aptly the empty space next to it. There was no denying he’d specifically taken some small frame off his shelf to hide it from me before letting me into his room. But why? Who had been inthat picture?
And just what was he keeping from me?
This was something I needed to figure out before deciding to give an actual relationship with him a chance.
The best recourse here was to simplyask. But then, I didn’t want to act suspicious and accuse him of… Well, I don’t even know what there was to accuse him of.
So asking wouldn’t work.
Which was why I turned into a stupid spy.
With a quick glance at the door to the bathroom, I hurried to his desk and shuffled through a few papers to see if he’d simply tucked the picture under the pile. Then I opened all the desk drawers.
After that, I dropped to my knees and glanced under the bed. But the only thing under there was a pair of dusty, abandoned, lime-green running shoes and a folded display board—probably from some old science fair project.
Shoving my way back to my feet, I checked his bookshelves, dragging my fingers over his serial killer books next, thinking maybe he’d tucked the picture frame in there somewhere, under the guise of another hardback.
But nothing.
Turning my attention to the large wooden chest at the end of his bed, I bit my lip, more tempted than I knew I should be. The razor was still going full bore in the bathroom.
Dammit. I was such a bad house guest.
Dashing to the trunk, I knelt before it and pressed my fists to my mouth to keep from reaching for the lid.
It was probably locked, but after a whimper of defeat, I reached out anyway.
The chest opened without a lick of protest.
Holding my breath, I peered inside and got a big whiff of cedar wood.
Three-quarters full, it contained papers and books, like maybe old school projects.
And on top of the mess sat a manila folder, lying diagonally as if it’d been carelessly dropped inside with big red letters on the front that saidevidence. The tab readcase filefollowed by a string of numbers.
Unable to hold back, I reached forward to open it with one finger, hoping to get the tiniest peek inside.
But the photograph that lay paper clipped to the top sheet had me gasping and jerking away so hard that I lost my grip on the trunk lid and it snapped closed with a loud thump.
Yelping out a panicked screech, I landed on my ass in the middle of the carpet and pressed a hand to my rapidly thumping heart as I used the other to brace myself against the floor. But damn…what the hell kind of person would have a picture likethatin their bedroom?
And that’s when I finally noticed Damien standing in the open doorway to the bathroom, watching me.
22
DAMIEN
Oh fuck.
Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
A wave of dizziness assailed me as my brain scrambled for a million excuses to give Oaklynn that would wipe the petrified look of terror off her face. Because I was pretty sure this was it; she was going to leave me for good, and my body was already going into shock over the loss.
