“I don’t want a lie.”
“I thought they might, somehow, implicate your fucking teammate.”
TWENTY-FIVE
NEVE
When I wake, blinking my eyes open in the dim tendril of light spearing through a window, I’m confused. I frown in the dark, my fingers gripping the covers over my body tight as I take a deep breath and otherwise, lay perfectly still.
Where am I?
This has happened to me far too often in life. Shame—regret and disgust both—roll through me, my chest caving and heat rising up along my throat.
Who did I sleep with this time?
But when I inhale through my nose and push my tongue along the back of my teeth, I realize the inside of my mouth doesn’t taste like liquor and come to think of it, I don’tfeelhungover.
I squeeze my thighs together and hope I made good decisions.
The movement must have disturbed the person beside me because in my next heartbeat, a massive, warm hand clamps down around my thigh from under the smooth sheets.
I suck in a breath and slowly turn my head at the same time it all comes flooding back to me.
I’m sleeping in Faust Darling’s bed.
He lives in a fucking castle.
His head is turned away from me as he lies on his stomach, his dark hair curling at the back of his head. I can see the chains around his neck, the muscles of his shoulders and back bunched up. Smooth and hard both, light olive and gorgeous. He has a freckle on one shoulder and with his hand on my bare thigh—I remember I’m wearing some of his basketball shorts that will absolutely slip down to my ankles if I don’t hold them up when I get to my feet—I have the wild urge to kiss his skin.
I lightly bite down on my back teeth to keep that urge in check, but I can’t stop from flexing my toes and my calves, tightening the muscles as giddiness washes over me.
Last night I fell asleep with my head against his shoulder watching NHL highlights. Well, he did. My mind was heavy with everything we discussed and…
At that thought, bottomless horror floods through my mind all over again.
Faust said that allegedly, Will’s phone was stolen prior to Jackson’s death.
Who the fuck texted me before Will showed up at my door?The thought I fell asleep to. Dreamed about.
The only person aside from Will who makes sense is his best friend, Jackson.
But Jackson was a corpse by then.
And I know, deep down, it’s not just Jackson who could have sent them.
I meant what I told Faust. Somehow, I thought those texts might implicate Sylvan, and I protected him by keeping silent and deleting them.
Why?
The small, contented, sleeping sigh from Faust pushes it all away. Just for now. Just in the moment. Besides, despite the factFaust said the investigators don’t believe Will didn’t get a new phone doesn’t mean he didn’t. They just haven’t found it yet.
I squeeze my eyes shut a second, inhale deep, then slowly exhale as I open my eyes again and stare at Faust.
We didn’t kiss.
We didn’t fuck.
In fact, I jokingly put a pillow barrier between us last night but clearly, that was removed. Probably by me if I’m being honest. I like to cuddle.
