by Beth Yarnall
Staring at the table, he bobs his head like a child learning his punishment. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“For starters, how did you and Cassandra start going out?”
“Beau told me they broke up.”
“Did he tell you why they broke up?”
He glances up. There’s angry defensiveness in his gaze and posture. “No.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I did, but he wouldn’t tell me. I didn’t push.”
“So Beau told you they broke up. Then what?”
“I called Cassandra. She invited me over.”
“Wow. You didn’t waste any time.”
He bolts up in his seat. “Look, I know what I did was shitty. I don’t need you to tell me what an asshole I was.”
“Fine. As long as you get it.”
“Is this why you called me? So you can make sure I learned my lesson?”
“No.” I sigh and sit back. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m still in shock finding out about you and Cassandra. I’m still trying to process it.”
To his credit, he bows his head. “I’m not proud of it.”
“I heard she was having some difficulties. Know anything about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Strange things happening around her apartment. I heard she had to call the police.”
“There was an incident of vandalism, an incident with her cat, and some things missing. Probably kids. I’m the one who called the police. She didn’t want to, but I figured a woman living alone was an easy target. It was better for her to document it in case they caught them.”
“You called the police?”
“Yeah. An officer showed up and talked to Cassandra for a while. I had to leave for work, so I wasn’t there. She said the officer was nice. He gave her his card and told her to call him if she had any more trouble.”
“Did she call him again?”
“Once or twice, I think. Maybe. Things between us sort of ended right after that.” His leg pistons under the table, making his whole body shake.
“And how did you feel about that?”
He picks at an invisible spot on the table with the side of his thumbnail. “What do you mean?”
“Did you mess with her after she broke up with you so she’d keep calling you?”
His gaze jerks to mine. “What? No. Of course not.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
I want to believe him, but Leo’s words combined with the vibes I’m getting off Dylan make me wonder if he’s telling the truth or not.
His gaze drops to his tightly clenched hands on the table. “I didn’t hurt her. I could never…”
“Rape her repeatedly and kill her?”
“No. God, no. I loved her.” He turns to me, his eyes filled with tears. “I was in love with her when Beau asked her out. Did he ever tell you that?”
“Beau wouldn’t do that to a friend.”
“He did do it. Why do you think I jumped at the chance to be with Cassandra the minute they were over? She was supposed to be mine.”
“You told Beau you were in love with Cassandra?”
“He knew I liked her.”
“Yeah, but did you tell him you were in love with her? Specifically.”
“No.” He drops his head into his hands. “I never told Beau about my feelings. I don’t know why I said that.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. I knew Beau wouldn’t do something like that to a friend. I feel sorry for Dylan.
“Can you think of anything else that would help me find out who killed Cassandra?”
“No. I wish I could.”
“Okay. Thanks for coming.” I start to stand.
“I miss him.”
Dylan’s words catch me off guard. I’m not sure what to say other than to lay into him for not taking the time to visit Beau.
“I tried to see him a couple of times. In the beginning. He left as soon as he saw me sitting at the table. He never answered a single letter. I miss him. Isn’t that stupid after everything?”
Again, he surprises me. I had no idea he’s been trying to stay in contact. “No. I don’t think it’s stupid at all.” I say quietly. “I miss him too.”
He drops his hands and stands. “Get him out of there. Find out who really killed Cassandra and get him out of that damn place.”
“I’m doing everything I can. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”
“I will.”
I walk him out to reception and give him a hard hug. It’s the closest I’ve come in five and a half years to hugging my brother. The door opens as we pull apart. Leo stands in the doorway, glancing between Dylan and me. I never got to tell him about Dylan’s visit.
Behind me, Savannah sing-songs, “Uh-oh.”
Dylan kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”
“Please do. Thanks for coming. I appreciate it,” I tell him.
Dylan squeezes past Leo, who is gaping at me like he can’t believe what he just saw. I turn on my heels and head for our office. Let him think what he wants. I don’t care. I have work to do.
For some reason Cassandra’s calls to the police never appeared in any of the documents. I need to find out who the officer was who gave Cassandra his card. He might have vital information. I start a new search, guesstimating on the timing of that call. The page pops up just as the office door opens, then slams shut, rattling the pictures on the walls.
“Who in the hell was that?”
Chapter 22
Leo
My head is going to explode. Literally shatter into tiny fucking bits, splattering the walls and everything in the room. Less than twenty-four hours after getting naked with me and Cora’s already in the arms of some other guy. I debate for half a second about going after the asshole and punching the shit out of him for touching her. Then Cora strolls off like nothing and closes the door to our office, shutting me out. No. Fuck, no.
I go after her. Before I reach the door Savannah gets in a jab: “You snooze, you lose. Idiot.”
I ignore her and the fact that she’s totally right and storm into our office, slamming the door after me. I’ve got to know. “Who in the hell was that?”
“Hmmm?” Cora doesn’t look up from her computer screen. She jabs at the keys, the clicking of the keyboard echoing off the walls, punching up my anger.
I stalk forward, more jealous of anyone or anything than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s a fire blazing through me, consuming me, hazing the edges of my vision. Cora is mine.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She turns to me then. “Excuse me?”
“You go off and kiss some other guy—”
“Slow up. I did not go off and kiss anyone. He kissed me. On the cheek. And what do you care, anyway?”
“What do I care? What do I care?” I couldn’t give three shits that I’m shouting. “Last night!”
“What about it?”
She’s doing this on purpose, purposefully trying to get me to say what I can’t say. “You know what!”
“No. I don’t. I don’t know what or why or anything about what’s got you so pissed off.”
“Yes, you do. Stop messing with me.”
“I’m not messing with you. You made it very clear that last night was it for you. You don’t want anything more and that’s fine. But you can’t come at me now like some jealous boyfriend, demanding answers to questions you don’t have the right to.”
My hands fist. “Jealous boyfriend?” I need to punch something. I look around, but there’s nothing. “Jealous boyfriend?”
She turns back to her computer. “You’re repeating yourself.”
“What the actual fuck, Cora?”
Rolling her eyes, she glares up at me. “What do you want from me?”
“What do I want? What—”
“Did you hit your head? Is that why you keep repeating everything?”
“Then either shut up and help me or say something that makes sense. I’ve got work to do.”
I growl—actually growl in frustration. I’m so in over my head with her it isn’t even funny. I’m drowning and she won’t throw me a fucking rope. “You can’t go around letting other guys kiss you.”
“Whatever.” She goes back to what she was doing.
I grab the arms of her chair and swing her around to look at me. “I mean it, Cora. Knock that shit off.”
“Or what?”
Gripping her face, I smash my mouth to hers. She pushes at me. I give it everything I’ve got. Pain shoots up my groin, making me sick to my stomach. Releasing her, I grab my dick and drop.
She stands over me. “If you ever come at me like that again I’ll grind your nuts to dust with my boot heel. You got it?”
I can’t breathe, let alone answer her fucking question.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I wheeze.
“I’m sorry, but you have to admit you had that coming.”
She’s right. I did have that coming, and now that it’s here—and I’m barely managing to hold down the vomit—I see where everything went wrong. I see what an idiot I’ve been. Cora didn’t want or need me in her life, but she let me in anyway. That’s no small thing, and yet I treated it as if it was. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. Cora leans over me, reluctant concern in her vivid blue eyes. I did this to her, to us. I got what I wanted and then for some reason decided I didn’t deserve it. I jerked her forward, pushed her back, then tried to pull her to me all over again. She was right to drop me like this.
I put my forearm over my face, cutting off the sight of her. I can’t look at her right now. Looking at her means looking at what an asshole I’ve been. Savannah was right. About everything. I’d tell Cora to knee me again because I deserve it, but I don’t think I could survive it.
“Do you need a doctor?” I can hear the worry in her voice.
So all that not caring one way or the other about me—about us—was partly for show. Or at the very least to show me what I should’ve seen all along. Funny how a swift knee to the crotch clears the head.
“No.” I snake my other hand out and wrap it around her ankle. I need to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. I need her right here for what I have to say because if I don’t say it, if I don’t act in this moment of clarity, I could lose her. If I haven’t already.
“I’m sorry,” I say, still a little out of breath and queasy. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you and kissed you like that.” I move my arm to my forehead so I can look up at her again.
I shouldn’t have done that because all the words are backing up in my brain while I just stare at her, taking in how incredibly beautiful she is. Our gazes lock. Hers is very direct, but there’s something else there too and it gives me the encouragement I need to press on.
“I really am sorry.” My voice cracks on the last word like I’m going through puberty. I’m sorry about so many things with her.
She kneels down on the floor next to me. “Okay.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Yes. You are.” But she’s smiling.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“No. You don’t.”
“You shouldn’t kiss me right now.”
“No.” She leans close so that our mouths are nearly touching. “I shouldn’t.”
“I lo—”
She cuts me off with a kiss. I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. I was going to say three words I’ve never said to anyone ever. Maybe she didn’t want to hear them. I don’t know. All I know is that she’s kissing me and I’m kissing her.
“Oh, good. All back to normal.” I didn’t hear Savannah open the door.
Cora must not have either, because she’s up and off me like I’m on fire.
“Mostly.” I say, stacking my hands under my head. “I’m still waiting for the feeling to come back into my crotch.”
Savannah gives Cora two thumbs up. “I knew there was something I liked about you.”
“He had it coming,” Cora says, a corner of her mouth kicked up.
“Don’t I know it.” She winks at Cora. “I’m taking off for the night. Will you guys lock up when you’re done…recovering?” She starts to leave, then turns back. “Oh, your dad called,” she tells me. “He said to tell you that he wants to see the both of you tomorrow morning first thing.”
“Thanks, Savannah.”
She closes the door, leaving me alone with Cora again.
“Why did you cut me off earlier?” I ask, against my better judgment, referring to my almost declaration. I’m really not sure I want to know the answer.
She sits back down at her desk again. “Because it’s not true.”
I prop myself up on my hands. “But it is true.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” I slowly make my way to a standing position.
“There are two times a guy will say he loves you and won’t really mean it—before, during, or after sex and when he thinks he’s going to lose you.”
“That’s four times, and who in the hell told you that bullshit?”
“Beau.”
“Well, he’s wrong.”
“No, he’s exactly right. I didn’t believe him, but it’s true. I’m pretty sure you were this close”—she holds her thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart—“to asking me to marry you.”
She’s starting to piss me off. “I was not.”
“Yeah. You were. Look, just because we got naked and did stuff doesn’t mean I want or expect anything from you.” She gives her computer the attention she’s supposed to be giving me.
I gape at her, my mouth hanging open. When she says stuff like that it makes me want her more than anything in the whole world. And it’s not because of what Beau said. It’s because she’s so far and away different from anyone I’ve ever met. Every time she throws me a curve ball I fall for her a little more.
“You probably have a hard-on right now because I’m not falling at your feet,” she says.
Damn it. I might have the beginnings of a hard-on. “How can anyone get wood after you kick them in the nuts and piss them off every chance you get?” I stomp over to my desk and sit down. Something occurs to me. “Did you kiss me because you wanted to or because you wanted to shut me up?”
“Both.”
“Aha! I knew it. You want me as bad as I want you.” If that were a real thing we’d be rolling around on the floor right now.
“What I want is for you to figure out what you want.”
“I want you to stop letting other guys kiss you.” And for her to be half as crazy about me as I am about her. “Who the hell was that, anyway?”
“Dylan Newman. Beau’s friend and the guy who was going out with Cassandra shortly before she was killed.”
“And you hugged him? He’s a suspect.”
“He’s no more a suspect than you. What happened with Zelda?”
“Nothing and something.”
She finally gives me eye contact. “What does that mean?”
“I was supposed to tell you about it on our date tonight.”
“We’re not going on a date until you figure out what you want.”
“I know what I want.”
“You think you know what you want, but you really don’t.”
“Stop saying that. I know what I want and what I want is you right here, right now on top of this desk. I want you to wrap your legs around me and scream my name when you come.”
She laughs. “Not going to happen.”
“What can I do to make you believe me?”
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”
I can tell she’s done talking about what’s going on between us. I’m not done, but I let it go and ask her about what Dylan told her. If we’re talking about the case, we’re on even ground. It’s when we veer off into the unchart
ed territory of what’s between us that we seem to falter. Maybe it’s one of those things that just is and the more you think about it or talk about it the more impossible it seems.
I wasn’t fucking around about loving her. I fell hard for her the second I laid eyes on her. Every minute since has been like riding an amusement-park ride I can’t get off even if I wanted to. One thing’s clear—I’m so much deeper into this than she is and it pulls at me. How in the hell am I going to get her to fall in love with me? Because if I can’t accomplish that, I’m looking at a life without her, and that is not an option.
Chapter 23
Cora
I couldn’t hear Leo say those three words because I might believe them. If I believed them then I’d buy into the whole idea of “us.” And if I bought into the idea, then I’d have to look at my own very illogical feelings and how they’ve grown wildly out of control. It was easier when this was just going to be a summer fling, an experiment living in a world I’ve never walked in. Leo seemed like the perfect person to go there with. He’s experienced, he’s leaving in the fall, he seems more than willing, and most of all he’s sexier than hell.
I have to shut this whole thing down before one of us says or does something we can’t take back or ignore. The other side of the issue is that Beau was right. Leo suddenly found his supposed feelings when faced with the prospect of me walking away. So what happens if I really do break things off? I was half joking about him asking me to marry him. That’s not the way I want things to happen. I don’t want things between us to be anything but easy and natural. I have enough strained obligatory relationships in my life to add one more.
So where do we go from here?
I’m dying to know what sex feels like and most especially what sex with Leo would feel like. The small taste I’ve gotten has left me wanting more. A lot more. Leo still seems like the perfect candidate to help me accomplish my goal. He’s leaving at the end of the summer to go back to school. He’s incredibly skilled and if how he’s looking at me right now is any indication, he’s also very willing. The way my body reacts to that look makes it obvious that I find him incredibly attractive.
So. There’s all that and half the summer left to go. Maybe if we agree to keep it just about the physical this could work. I should be able to convince him. He always seemed like the type of guy who appreciates no-strings-attached sex. I’ll lay down the ground rules and he can either accept them or not. Either way, I’ll know where we stand with each other and it will all be very much under control.