Page 40 of Wicked Games

“I—” I sigh and admit the truth. “No.”

“Good. Then I think we’re finally on the same page.” He drops the plates into the sink behind me with a clatter and I jump. He wraps his arms around me and says, “Violet and I have never slept together. I think of her like a sister. She’s my best friend.”

“You’re supposed to marry your best friend,” I point out, angling my head as he trails kisses over my jaw and down my neck.

“Hmmm. No. When I married Brooke, I married the woman I loved, and that elevated her significantly from best friend. The next woman I marry will be more important to me than anything or anyone. Brooke didn’t understand that, but as I said, I learn from my mistakes, and when I marry, she’ll know I’d do anything for her, including cutting Violet off, if it would make her happy.”

“Okay,” I breathe, the heat of his kisses burning down my spine.

He steps back. “Okay what?”

“Okay. What else is there? If Brooke didn’t trust you, it’s her loss. The only man I’ve slept with since I was twenty is Darren, until this week.” I turn around and dribble soap on the sponge. “I’ll wash these quick so they’re not sitting in the sink all night.”

He leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms. “No. I want to know what you meant. If we take this any further, are you going to ask me to stop being her friend? This is a conversation I should have had with Brooke before I asked her to marry me, but I didn’t realize it was a conversation I needed to have. Now I do.”

Scrubbing at a smear of dried pizza sauce, I say, “I’m not going to ask you to stop being her friend. Do you know who isolates people from their friends and family? Abusers. Maybe I want to be friends with her too. You said she likes my work so I already know she has good taste.”

His lips twitch and the tension that crept up on us fades away. I didn’t know how he felt, and now that I do, I’m a little apprehensive and a lot happy. I’ve known him for a week and no one needs to tell me that we’re going too fast.

I wash and rinse the two plates and he dries them and puts them away.

We’re at the awkward part of the evening when it’s too early to go to bed, but if I stay there won’t be anything to do, except, you know, and I think Seth’s pacing us so I don’t think our relationship is all about sex. It’s nice after the way Darren treated me that he’s thinking about my feelings, and I’m grateful.

Maybe he realizes it too, or maybe he has something he needs to do, because he says, “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

“Thanks.”

I make sure I have my phone and notebook, and he links our fingers as we shuffle through the long grass that I’m going to have to mow soon because Kelly made it very clear it was my job while I was staying here.

On the patio, he brushes his lips over mine. “If you need anything, call. I don’t know what’s up for tomorrow, but I’ve been doing a little work and a little always turns into a lot.”

“Sure. I’ll be fine. I have a little of my own work to do. Have a good night.”

“You too.” He rubs his thumb over my cheek and trots down the steps and toward his house.

I check my phone and see that Bill tried to call, but I’ll call him back in the morning. He could have already gotten over me upsetting him, but he probably wants to pick apart Hattie’s lie and I don’t want to do that.

My clothes smell like sex and I change into pajamas. I’m running out of panties and I’ll have to do a load of laundry tomorrow. Seth warned me he’d be busy all day, maybe out of courtesy, but also maybe to keep me from hanging around like a groupie, so I might go to town and explore. Kelly left a Calendar of Events stuck to the fridge and there’s a crafts fair going on for the next few days. Lakehaven Falls is a tiny town, but to keep tourists entertained, there are things to do all summer.

I settle on the couch with my notebook and look over what I wrote earlier this afternoon. The idea of writing fiction isn’t new, especially since I was married to Darren who turned it into his life’s work, but I was never interested in writing it myself. Turning Theo’s kidnapping into a novel might not be a good idea, but I know how slowly the publishing industry works and even if I did happen to find an agent and he or she sells it, it could be years before the book finds its way onto bookstore shelves, and people linking the book to Theo would be slim.

For now I’ll use it as a distraction, and I think about ransom calls and enormous amounts of money only rich people can pay. Seth said he put his bag into a newspaper box, and after killing Theo, the guy was able to grab it and get away. I open my laptop and research ransom drops. The longer I read, the clammier my skin gets.

There’s a little bit of light left in the sky and I can see Seth sitting on his couch with his own laptop. I rush across the grass, but he notices me and meets me halfway.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks, gripping my shoulders.

“The cops put a tracker in the ransom bag, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” he says, confused. “Why? The fucker knew where it was and disabled it a block from where he killed Theo.”

“Where was it?”

“They sewed it into the bag’s lining. Why? Avery, what’s going on?”

“How did he know it was there?”

He shakes his head. “What do you mean?”