“How scared for you I was.Am. I can’t pretend that it’s not still affecting me. It eats me up inside, Ken. Maybe realistically, I couldn’t have done more. That doesn’t change that I feel like I should have. It doesn’t take away the guilt.”
“Spence…”
“Anyway, he gave me a number for a therapist that he uses. I’m going to call them, make an appointment.”
That’s not where I saw this conversation going. “It’s not a terrible idea.” For both of us, in fact. I can’t lie and say it isn’t affecting me every day either. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Maybe for the first one?” He settles more comfortably in my arms. “Do you have feelings for Henry?”
“Jesus, Spencer.” This conversation’s giving me major whiplash. I thought we moved on from the Henry conversation. He’s certainly got a bee in his bonnet about the detective. “Yes, I do. Because he’s a friend.” There are few people in the world that I can put up with, even fewer that I have patience for. The kid isn’t so bad. He’s sharp, witty, and completely out of his depth with the cards he’s been dealt. Too smart for his own good, with little to no street smarts. “He needed a friend, and gettinginjured together meant that he latched on to me. The same way you and Sebastian did, you understand?” We both dealt with different situations and went through them with different people. Those bonds are strong but never as strong as the oneweshare. Nothing ever will be. “It’s not romanticorsexual. You’re it for me. I can’t imagine looking at anyone else the way that I look at you. I couldn’t. I won’t.” He’s a necessityanda choice. I choose him, and it’s a path I’ll never turn from. Not even after death.
I caress his chin and jaw with my thumb. Light stubble pricks my skin, and then there’s smooth further down his throat. “Do you want me to stop talking to him?”
“Yes,” Spencer replies, zero hesitation.
I shouldn’t allow it. Indulging him always makes it worse, but I can’t say I don’t understand. I’m not entirely comfortable with his friendship with the lawyer, even after my statement. I know that Spencer is all mine, that nothing will ever take that from me. It doesn’t stop the curl of jealousy, of possessiveness, that shakes me when they spend time together. They had each other when they were taken all those months ago, and I hate that Sebastian gave him any kind of comfort. That’s my job. He’s mine to make feel better.
“Talk to him first,” I say softly, brushing my lips over the corner of his mouth. “Meet him properly, and after that, if you still want me to break it off, I will.” I’d remove everyone from my life if he really asked it of me. He would do the same. It doesn’t mean we need to act on it.
“Fine.Onemeeting.” He traces my face with the pads of his fingers, a bare ghost of a touch that spreads through me like wildfire. My eyes close, and I bask in it. “He doesn’t get to have any of you.”
“No,” I agree. Our next kiss is slow, a connection deeper than the physical. Ownership. Love. Unfortunately, the real world isstill waiting for us. “We should go.” A reluctant truth. Greer’s going to be grumpy enough at this time of night. Keeping him waiting—even while he’s with Six —will only make that worse.
Spencer keeps hold of my hand while I drive and only reluctantly lets go when we get there. The second I circle around the vehicle, back to him, his hand slides into mine once more. He uses it to tug me into a kiss.
By the time we’re inside he’s smiling, eyes bright. No one would ever know about his turmoil or his anxiety. Nothing about the fear of abandonment is on his face. It’s not a mask, the smile is genuine, but there are parts of him that are mine alone. A satisfying knowledge.
The living room’s empty except for Greer and the woman upright on the couch. Her head rests back, mouth open. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think she’s asleep and not dead. The various “number” cards sitting everywhere are a solid indicator that not all is as it seems, however. Based on the empty wine glass and biscuits, she’d been having a relaxing evening before... whatever happened.
“How’d you clear the room?” Spencer asks Greer. There are no techs here, no police outside. Nobody but us.
“My sparkling personality.”
He’s a little—a lot—rough around the edges but not enough to stop professionals doing their job. Though I bet there’re a thousand dartboards with his face on them.
“Allery and her crew have already been through. Maverick’s on his way to pick up her body. We’re assuming this has something to do with your case.” Greer hands us both a pair of latex gloves. “Don’t fuck up my crime scene.”
“Where’s Six?” Spencer asks.
“Doing another search of the house.” Greer crosses his arms over his chest. “You spoke to her the other day; did shesay anything weird or unusual that might tell us why this happened?”
This entire case is weird. He’s gonna have to be more specific than that if he wants answers. Hell, I’d like some answers.
“It’s more what she didn’t say,” Spencer says. He moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. “Made up a lie about how she found Veronica’s body. She can’t have been doing what she said, and we don’t know why she thought she wouldn’t be found out. We didn’t get a chance to follow it up yet.”
Now she’s taken all her secrets with her to the afterlife. That has to be deliberate. Someone wanted to shut her up. And they succeeded. It pisses me off that we didn’t catch this.
Six comes into the room, holding something in his hand. “Looks like the party’s started now,” he says with a grin. “Look what I found.” He holds up a bottle, and I squint at it, reading the side label.
“I don’t think sleeping pills are going to liven things up,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of parties do you go to?”
“Found them in the trash.” He uncaps it. “And it’s empty.”
“Yeah, usually when something is empty, you put it in the trash,” Spencer says, nodding. “Great detective work. I bet there are other empty things in the bin too. Maybe even a banana peel.”
“Cherry pits, but close. She filled the script for these a week ago. There’s no way she’s gone through that many, unless…” He trails off, and we all fill in the gaps.
Would Irene kill herself? The short glimpse we had of her, I’m not sure I believe it. Something else has to be going on here.
