“It’s different when no one is here,” Jesse grunted.
Clothes rustled, and something thumped to the ground. Then Eliana’s heart squeezed at the unmistakable sound of their mattress creaking. The sound echoed through her like a siren, warning of the storm to follow.
She could feel her friend’s stare on her face, but her vision tunneled, and she found herself incapable of looking away from the device in Clem’s hand. She wanted to shut it down, to not have to listen as the world she knew imploded once again, but she needed to hear it.
The confirmation she’d wanted. The validation she’d craved. And damn it all, the lawyer was right. It hurt like a motherfucker.
“Wait, wait!” Bea’s voice turned coy, “Which side is Eliana’s?”
“Why does it matter?” Jesse answered, his words stilted, muffled, punctuated with the sound of grotesquely wet kisses.
She moaned, her voice growing huskier, “I want you to fuckme where she sleeps . . . however you want. A way she never lets you.”
Whether or not the creepiness of Bea’s request registered in Jesse’s brain, Eliana couldn’t be sure, for that was not the part of the sentence he latched onto. She could hear the excitement in the pace of his breathing.
“Anything I want? Come on,” he said, his voice low and dark as the bed creaked again. “Flip over.”
Asmack, skin against skin,reverberated through the speaker, and Eliana slapped a hand over her mouth when her stomach lurched, gasping aloud. They were in her room. In herbed. Like none of it mattered. Fourteen years of marriage. A decade of friendship. And it meant nothing.
But before she could spiral for a second time, Clem let loose a sound of fury, like a bird of prey, dropping the device as if it burned her. The sounds cut out, much to Eliana’s relief, and she glanced up at Clem—realizing how far gone her friend was.
She barely had a moment to process Clem’s intentions before she was running, yanking her keys off the hook by the door. Eliana was hot on her heels as they reached the porch steps, and she took a running leap from the top, tackling Clem into the grass beside the sidewalk.
“Let me up, Eliana, I have things to do.”
“I can’t let you go to jail for murder, Clem. I love you too much.”
Clem rolled, trying to buck Eliana off, but she’d trained her too well. No matter how she twisted or bucked or rolled, she couldn’t shake Eliana off her back.
After a while, she relaxed, splaying out prone, her cheek to the dirt. “I’m calm now, you can get off.”
“I don’t believe you,” Eliana answered, knowing her friend too well to be fooled. As wild and unpredictable asClem appeared, the woman had a fuse that stretched for miles. But when it met the mark, the devastation was unparalleled.
They lay quietly for a while, processing.
“You really buried the lead there, huh?” Clem mumbled.
Eliana snorted, the sound watery in her own ears. “I didn’t know for sure, but I suspected.”
“I didn’t even consider . . .” Clem started, then stopped. “I always thought that he truly . . .” She paused again, an angry breath escaping her lips. “You’re going to have to let me up eventually. Your bladder is weaker than mine.”
“I’m not afraid to pee on you.”
Clem swore. “Fine. I swear on my eternal love and devotion to Jeremy Sumpter that I will not kill, maim, nor castrate your husband.Tonight.”
Eliana relaxed her hold, rolling onto her back and staring up at the stars. She’d noted thetonightloophole, but she’d handle that later.
It was a beautiful night. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and with the minimal light pollution of Clem’s quiet home in the mountains, she could see every star sparkling brightly above. Thousands of brilliant fireflies, dancing across the midnight sky, completely oblivious to how her world was falling to pieces.
“It’s weird that you’ve held onto yourPeter Panobsession for this long,” Eliana said. “We’re in our thirties. And I think he got married.”
Clem fell back, letting the edge of her head rest against Eliana’s. “The heart wants what it wants, El. Now what are we going to do?”
“I’ve already met with a lawyer,” she said, amazed at how steady her voice sounded. “I was pretty sure it was Bea. ButI’d still hoped . . . that it was some crazy fluke or a giant coincidence.”
“The first rule of crime scene investigation–”
“I know . . . I know,” Eliana interrupted. “There is no such thing as a coincidence.” She sighed, reciting Clem’s words, “The heart wants what it wants.”
