Jansen taps a case, pulling me from my thoughts. “Can I get that one?”
I walk over to where he’s looking, the jeweler joining us with her set of keys. “That easy?” I ask, looking down at what he’s picked.
“It’s beautiful. Just like she is.”
It is, and she is, so I guess it makes as much sense as anything else that comes out of Jansen’s mouth.
He settles his bill, and after I add a rush fee to half my order, we head into the cold, both of us leaving in different directions, just in case.
I don’t know whether we still need this level of caution. I don’t know much of anything at this point when it comes to where we’re at with the plan. Finals messed up our rhythm, and I haven’t seen Clara, even from a distance, for two weeks.
My skin itches with want.
We knew Jansen would struggle with this separation. But I never guessed how much it would bother me.
I need her in my arms, her lips against mine, her scent and softness and warmth wrapped around me. Without it, I feel like I’m unraveling, losing any semblance of kindness or courtesy. I’m becoming a rabid beast on the hunt for his favorite prey, only she’s locked away behind a stone wall, unreachable and silent.
The wedding can’t happen soon enough.
Clicking ‘send’ on the most recent anonymous message to the evil father we all wish would finally succumb to his cancer, I sigh, wishing I could do more.
The list of people I want off this planet just keeps getting longer, and if I were a different man, I’d be worried about my humanity. As it is, I can’t say I give a fuck anymore.
Bryce doesn’t deserve to live. Neither does Westerhouse the Second or his firstborn son, especially after we’ve seen how easily they use their political power to protect themselves. When we found out after digging through Bryce’s burner phone that GoldenRod69, a.k.a. Trevor Westerhouse, had been chatting with Clara’s ex in one of their anonymous dark web chat rooms? Well, that just sealed the deal on that devil.
Annoyed that all I can do is send horrific videos and photos to an evil old man, I pull up the tracking data for Bryce, only to find he’s done his usual route from home to the gym to the grocery store. Just like he does every Monday. Nothing new there. Nothing I can use to make him disappear.
Pulling up the phone records and texts from his burner phone, I find nothing there either. Annoyed, I browse through his normal phone, and a grin sneaks across my face.
It might not be what we wanted, not actually, but it’s as close as we’re going to get.
“RJ?” I call, hoping he can hear me from the living room.
Sure enough, a minute later the thud of his feet on the stairs brings him to my side. I say nothing, instead showing him what I found.
“Oh shit. Do you think this is a good thing?”
“It means Westerhouse the Second has moved him up to the top of the list, don’t you think?”
RJ slumps onto the couch beside me. “Yeah, but—”
My excitement dwindles. “This is going to suck for Clara.”
“Especially if we can’t warn her.”
Staring at the ceiling, my fingers twitch, needing a pencil. So I set aside my laptop and grab my sketchbook, experimenting with half-formed ideas until I find a lily and a rose staring up at me.
RJ glances at my drawing once I’ve stilled beside him.
“That’ll work,” he whispers, his eyes solemn as he stands up.
I pull out my phone, opening the text chat with Clara that we all know is monitored.
I snap a picture of my drawing, adding what will hopefully be a clear enough code: Lilies and roses at your wedding?
We wait. For days.
But she doesn’t reply. Not to that message or any of our other ones.
