He should have expected Holden to dig deeper. Holden wanted every piece of him.
“It’s the right name,” Kit whispered. “There just isn’t enough.”
“That’s what I thought.” Holden sounded calm. Maybe that was why Kit could talk to him. He needed someone with Holden’s unique range of emotions and priorities. “I wasn’t going to look. But I kept thinking about it, because I think about you all the time, and that’s part of you.”
Kit hugged himself tighter. “I wish it wasn’t.”
The bathroom echoed with silence, until Holden said, “Me too. The thing is, if everything happened like you said, I should have heard of your dad before. That victim count, the resemblances.”
“They said they would protect my privacy.”
“They never do that as well as they’re supposed to.” Holden didn’t sound regretful, just matter of fact. “This should have been a true crime sensation. But I had to think and think to remember someone who might fit. Even though this guy doesn’t really.”
Ice slowed Kit’s thoughts. A new, sinking horror. The red and blue tiled walls blurred. “I’m telling the truth.”
“I believe you,” Holden said quickly. But he would say anything to make Kit happy. Holden would swear the sky was green, the road was paved with caramel, the blood never felt good on his hands, if Kit asked.
“It happened,” Kit said urgently. “I’m not making it up.”
“I believe you,” Holden repeated, this time with an air of distress. His deep breath shivered in Kit’s ear. “Can you believe me?”
Kit rubbed his eyes until rainbows danced in the darkness. “Hell of an ask, considering everything.”
“Have I lied since the whole kidnapping thing?” Holden’s voice stayed soft. Tempting. “We shouldn’t be doing this over the phone.”
“Is Darius listening?”
“Nah, he’s out, I’m locked in the bedroom. I just want to hold you, and I can’t tell if I should stop talking when we’re on the phone.” There was a rustling, the creak of the mattress. “I’m not good enough at reading your voice yet.”
Kit shuddered. So fucking tempting. He wanted to be held. Crazy how he could be dating two guys, high-key flirting with a third, and still feel so fucking alone sometimes. Like the cold was part of him.
It was strangely, stupidly sweet that Holden didn’t want him upset. Low fucking bar for a normal person, but Holden wasn’t normal.
Neither was Kit. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he needed to know what Holden was thinking. “I’ll tell you if I need to stop. I’m okay right now.”
Holden sighed dramatically. “I’m not. You’re way too far away.” When Kit managed a weak laugh, Holden continued. “They got him for three counts of murder. That’s barely anything. I’ve killed three people, for fucks sake. I’ve only been doing this for like a semester.”
“They were only charging him with the easy ones.” Kit started pacing the small confines, every few steps moving from plushrug to cold tile. All of them should have been easy ones. Kit handed them the fucking laptop. “They wanted to make it easy. I don’t know. I was pretty checked out.”
“You were just a kid,” Holden said. He was giving an explanation, not the intense sympathy someone normal might give him. That was exactly why Kit could only talk to Holden about this right now. He needed someone who could be normal about the least normal shit. “I don’t want to sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist. But I think there’s some sort of coverup.”
Maybe. Probably not. Impossible. Likely.
Kit’s mind switched with each sharp turn. He stopped in front of the mirror and looked himself in the face.
How many kids died at Dad’s hands? How many big, bright eyes went wide with terror, before glassing over?
It didn’t matter how many articles there were. Whatever the reason, maybe it was better this way. Fewer sordid witnesses to this constellation of traumas.
“I don’t care if there’s a coverup,” Kit said. “Everything worked. I turned him in, the police and lawyer people did their thing, and now he’s rotting where he belongs.”
“Almost where he belongs,” Holden muttered darkly. “I’m going to keep thinking about this, I have to warn you.”
Kit looked away from his reflection. “As long as you don’t do anything, think as much as you want.”
Holden’s voice lowered into a purr. “I would rather think about you here, sprawled on the bed with me.”
“Me too,” Kit admitted. “I wish James didn’t live all the way out in the fucking suburbs.”
