“What about the gold leaf the cops found in the Nagys’ apartment?” Jemma asked.
“I talked to Mrs. Nagy about that,” I replied. “She figures it came from some petits fours that Agnes brought over for tea the day before the murder. They were decorated with gold leaf. Mrs. Nagy couldn’t think of how else it would have ended up in her kitchen.”
The door to the building opened, and Wyatt stepped out into the courtyard.
“Look who’s here.” Jemma smiled, a little slyly, I thought.
Wyatt’s eyes found mine, and a pleasant zing shot through me. A chaotic tangle of emotions rode in on its wake. I didn’t know what to think or feel about Wyatt, but I decided that was a problem for another time. Or maybe not. There was a good chance I’d never see him again after today.
Despite the little whimper of disappointment from my heart at the thought, it was likely for the best. Bodie had left me bruised on the outside, but he’d also deepened the scars I already had on the inside. I thought he was a good guy, that we had a real connection. And I was oh so wrong.
I could be wrong about Wyatt too.
Nevertheless, I could set aside my wariness for an hour or so.
“I should go,” Jemma whispered.
I clutched her arm, holding her in place. “No, don’t.”
She gave in, probably only because she was still getting over the scare she’d had when she’d raced back to Rosario’s apartment in time to see my shoe fall past the window. I’d texted her in the elevator on my way down to the speakeasy, sharing my suspicionsabout Bodie. When she realized that he was gone from the party too, she gathered up a posse of my senior neighbors and Wyatt—who’d just shown up—and rushed up to the roof. Luckily, she’d correctly guessed that my shoe must have fallen from there.
I could tell I surprised Jemma when I stood up from the bench. “I’ll just be a moment.”
I met Wyatt on a sunny patch of grass, far enough away from Jemma and Livy that we had a semblance of privacy.
“How are you doing?” he asked, his eyes tracing a path from the bruises on my face to the ones on my neck.
I could feel his gaze like a physical touch, gentle, intoxicating. I had to take a steadying breath before I could speak.
“I’m okay,” I said, my voice quieter than I’d intended. “And I’m glad you’re here.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s a nice change.”
“I know I haven’t always been welcoming,” I admitted. “But I want you to know that I truly appreciate the way you helped up on the roof.”
His grin disappeared, and his eyes darkened. His fingertips skimmed my cheek, near an angry red scrape and purple bruise. Beneath his touch, my blood warmed. A hum traveled through my bones, electric yet comforting at the same time. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
He brushed a strand of hair off my face and tucked it behind my ear with such tenderness that I had to blink back tears. When he dropped his hand, the absence of his touch set off a hollow, echoing ache inside me.
Wyatt’s coal-black eyes burned with regret and something hotter, more volatile. “I wish I’d made it to the roof faster.”
I threw caution to the wind and took his hand in mine. Our fingers twined perfectly together.
“I’m told you moved as fast as humanly possible,” I said. “In fact, I think some residents of the building suspect you’re actually superhuman.”
A faint smile touched his lips, weighed down by remorse. “Definitely only human. But I was a scared-as-hell human when I realized you were in trouble.”
Tears burned in my eyes as I smiled at him. “Sit with us?”
As my hand slid out of his, he caught two of my fingers and gave them the gentlest of squeezes before releasing them.
I had to tear my gaze from his and remind myself to breathe.
I led the way back to the bench and sat next to Jemma. She gave me a knowing look, but I just patted the empty spot on my other side, an invitation for Wyatt. He accepted, sitting close enough that his arm brushed against mine. I tried not to breathe too deeply, but I still caught a heady whiff of his outdoorsy scent.
“I owe you both my life,” I said, glancing first at Jemma, then at Wyatt. “You and the Senior Squad.”
“Ooh, that’s a good name,” Jemma said with delight. “We should get them badges.”
