“Why haven’t we been more serious about this? This is really bad. They told everyone they were handling it, but what if they don’t have the slightest clue what to do?” Pushing past the dizziness still lingering, I stand and bite my bottom lip. He joins me, standing close, but he buzzes with energy, like he needs to pace or do anything to burn it.
“Fuck, Goldie is a total idiot. I always thought detectives would be smarter, but I bet money on them totally winging it. They’re in over their heads.”
I nod. “They have a hotel full of guests, another murder and someone attacked me. They’re unable to call for assistance and probably are just buying time, glad we’re not all kicking off and being more extreme. They’ll probably call higher-ups when the weather clears.” I can’t help but think of my publisher and the deadlines I should have been working towards this week.
“We need to speak to the others and get downstairs. You were right about trying to prevent anyone else getting hurt. I know nothing about floodplains, but surely it won’t take that long for the flooding to subside.”
I roll my lip between my teeth still, giving him a sad look. “If the banks have broken, it could be days before it clears up.”
Wren takes both my hands in his and lightly squeezes them, before placing them to his chest, right over his heart. “At this point, I don’t care. We’ll get wrapped up and try to be as safe as possible, but we need to get to that little village and call someone.”
He’s completely right. I’m so exhausted that what I really want to do is crawl back into bed, but he promises to find me something decent to wear and then we’ll gather the thing we want to take with us, because we will be leaving with or without Starlings permission.
Standing alone in the library, I curl my hand into The Larks t-shirt he leant me, whilst Wren covers one of the love seats with a large blanket and the pillows from his hotel room. He’s creating me the perfect set up to rest because he’s adamant I won’t be lifting a finger whilst he sorts everything out.
“Do you think Merle will leave with us? You guys explained he couldn’t have been the one to attack me, but he still could have murdered Corbin.” I grip at my scalp, a pain in my temple simmering no matter how much pain relief I take. Honestly I don’t know if I even believe my own theories anymore, making me feel as helpless as knowing someone tried to snuff me out of existence. My mind feels as weak as my body, so maybe if we all left Nightingale, we’d get the clarity to think straight and see there has to be another explanation. “If he’s innocent, we can’t leave him here. He won’t be safe, especially if the killer isn’t one of the guests.”
“At this point, I think he doesn’t give a fuck what we do. He looks ready to start swimming to get away from the lot of us. I’ll speak with Phin about management of the hotel, but I think it’s safe to say they’ll have to close for now. We should take him with us, until they discuss things.”
It’s so sad imagining their relationship not being the fairytale I swore I had seen with my own eyes, but Lil may have been right. I had always worn rose coloured glasses when it came to love, no doubt the reason behind her brother clawing his way into my life. I felt terrible.
“Are you surprised at what Lil said? Did you pick up on Phin being closed off or not acting his usual self? They were together for years. I feel so foolish assuming everything was fine.” I ask whilst I grab a pair of small cushions, adding them to my resting spot.
Sighing, he rubs at his light stubble that has appeared from days of not shaving; it has no business looking that gorgeous. “I was so busy, constantly on tour, I never spent time with both of them together. He always arranged to see me by himself. Don’t feel foolish, I get if you feel like a bad friend because I do.” He gives me a little smile, but it’s so sad that it may mirror my own. “She’s a massive gossip, but Lily is his sister and I think she’s more observant than she lets on. She cares about him too, so I think maybe we’ve just hoped for the best and thought he was happy.”
Maybe dealing with this all by himself led to Phin relapsing again, which breaks my heart.
Are we fated to always have the stench of death tarnishing our lives? First Mrs. Claythorne, then Mum, now Corbin and even Jay will be stained into the thread that weaves my journey. Does Wren feel the same? He only lost his own mother a few years ago, so can we really build something together, based on a foundation of trauma?
All I’d expected from this past weekend was hangovers and listening to obnoxious jabs from people like Willow, hiding from Corbin the best I could and scratching my curiosity over the murder mystery party. The guys were meant to throw their perfect hotel opening and we were all meant to be so fuckinghappy. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d finally meet the man currently cradling my hand as he takes the cushion from me, looking at me with such adoration. I can’t remember why I’d been so firmly against meeting him for years,but I knew now we’d finally collided, there was no going back from knowing Wren Hastings. I’d tried to stay away, but what I felt for him was truly cosmic. It defied logic, words, emotions—he was salvation in an abyss I’d learnt how to survive in. I didn’t want to just survive. I wanted to finally live.
Chapter twenty-six
Robin
WRENhad opted to go make us coffee, but because he refused to let me leave my new place of rest–he didn't chuckle when I referred to it as the death bed of comfort–we wedged the large wooden door of the library open, in time for Cardinal to take over babysitting me. Confirming he'd checked on Willow, I had to stick my tongue out mentally at Lil because I wasn't as dense as she'd portrayed me to be. I noticed the way they both looked for one another when all the guests were together and I was certain something had happened between them. Like hell either would admit to anything, but my not-so-rose-coloured spider senses tingled at the intense way they observed each other.
He's not that strict of a watcher and doesn't say anything as I paced along the wall of books, whilst he pokes around at the logs next to the fire, humming.
“I wouldn’t put it past Phoenix to buy fake logs for the aesthetic. Shall we try and light it?”
I’m unable to hide my smirk. “Oh, you know him so well now? Besties are you? Cardy, are you coming to steal my best friend? I won’t allow it.”
He scoffs. “Fuck off, Drew—keep him. I just mean he’s not the type to get his hands dirty.”
“You’re not wrong and I think he’d love to have you as a friend. We all would.”
Cardinal looks over his shoulder from where he’s crouched and offers me a genuine smile, which I return. He might play the grump, but I knew I’d wear him down eventually.
“You totally want us all to be friends.” I know I’ve pushed too hard when he grumbles numerous curses and returns to poking around the fireplace. I hope he’s not serious about lighting the thing; despite the rain outside, it’s still warm. In fact, it’s incredibly stuffy in here; opening a couple of windows wouldn’t be the worst idea.
Getting to work, I cross the room past the scatter of tables and grab a chair to open up the tall windows, the glass only opening a fraction because I’m not that strong, but I attach it to the latch and accept it’s better than nothing. Sunshine is desperately trying to peek through the clouds, and I felt like it had been such a long time since I’d seen any tone in the sky other than grey. I missed blue, the pink hues that turned to orange in summer and how the countryside glowed.
I attack the next window and then finally get to the third, scraping the wooden chair along the floor till it’s in the perfect position for me to reach. Stepping up, I pop open the windowpane and look out over the new herb garden and into the dark forest that sits back from the house. I think about my weird dream and I still don’t understand why Maggie had been the one featuring in it, shouting for me to work harder and hurry up. The faceless gardener had been so weird; I couldn’t even conjure up a face now, but I imagine he’d have unruly brown hair under hishat and facial hair to match his crumbled work clothing. Was I just imagining one of the Dingles from Emmerdale? Shit, I think I was.
“No fucking way—look what I found.” Cardinal distracts me from my thoughts of countryside television and farming. I turn to find the unexpected in his hands; a crisp red envelope with the ominous rolled-up paper attached. Knowing we had a handful left to find, hunting clues seemed so far down on my priority list, I hadn’t even worried over finding my own. Could it help piece it all together if it was my secret?
Running my sudden sweaty palm against my borrowed clothes, I step down from the chair and walk across the room, meeting him as he gets up from the ground. His features sit in that comfortable frown he always wears, handing me the envelope so he can uncurl the long strip of paper.
