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My gaze darted from one string to the next. My eyes began to cross, and it felt like I was looking at the board from under water. Even the sound of raindrops on the window became distant. My hands curled into fists, and my whole body shook in frustration. I shoved my hands into my hair and yanked on the strands. This was fucking pointless. I’d been studying this board for months, and none of it made a damn bit of sense. Three months caught up to me in a single moment, and I snapped.
“These breadcrumbs are useless!” I screamed as I grabbed the strings and yanked them off the board. Papers went flying across the room, and one of the strings tangled around my finger. I grabbed the corners of the whiteboard and threw it at the wall, which was a feat in itself, because the thing was huge. Pain sliced across my hand. The whiteboard hit the wall, then bounced back toward me. It landed on my head pretty dang hard, and I collapsed onto the ground, pinned beneath the massive whiteboard. A piece of paper landed in my mouth, and I sputtered, but it went nowhere.
Nadine rushed to my side and helped lift the whiteboard back onto its wheels. “Lucas, are you okay?”
Truth was, I’d hurt my pride more than anything. I huffed as I got to my feet and spat the paper out of my mouth. “I’m fine,” I grumbled.
Nadine placed her hands on her hips. “That was a bit dramatic.”
I crossed my arms but didn’t meet her gaze as I mumbled, “These breadcrumbs are dry and stale anyway. They taste awful.”
Nadine stared at me for a few seconds, before a smile crept across her face. She burst into laughter. I froze, until I looked down at the papers at my feet and began laughing along with her.
It wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. But it was better than the alternative—and that involved wallowing in my own self-pity because I’d somehow tied my worth to solving this mystery. I’d get an earful from Nadine and Helena both, because neither of them were going to stand for my bullshit anymore. They heard enough of it last June. I tried my best to find the joy where I could, and that was pretty damn difficult today. So when Nadine laughed, I allowed myself to laugh along with her.
“Come sit down,” she said between laughs. She led me over to a chair, then leaned down to inspect the cut on my hand. It throbbed, but I didn’t really give a fuck. Nadine gasped.
“What?” I asked, sitting up straighter.
“You broke a nail!” she said dramatically. She was trying to lighten the mood.
I scowled. “What a tragedy—oh, wow. That’s not good.”
Nadine stretched my skin a little, and I saw that the cut was deeper than I thought. The corner of the whiteboard had sliced across my whole palm. Blood began pooling in my hand.
Her voice turned serious. “Stay here. I’ll get a first-aid kit.”
She left me in silence, and I glanced around the room. Papers were scattered everywhere, and the string lay in a tangled mess on the floor. This was going to be a bitch to put back in order.
I got up and knelt beside the closest pile of papers, trying hard not to drip blood everywhere. I started gathering our clues and stacking them together with my good hand.
“Lucas.” Nadine stopped me when she returned. “Your clues aren’t going anywhere.”
She was clearly annoyed by how consumed I’d become with this. I sighed and sat down again. She took my hand and gently wiped the blood away, inspecting it closely. “You’re not going to need stitches, but I need to get it cleaned up. Hold still.”
Nadine positioned a towel on the table, then placed my hand palm-up on top of it. She poured hydrogen peroxide over the cut, and damn, that stung like a son of a bitch.
She cleaned out the wound, then gently wrapped gauze around my hand. I couldn’t help but let my eyes roam over her as her fingers moved over mine softly.
She caught me staring and turned a deep shade of pink. “What is it?”
“You,” I said simply. “You’re so nice to me.”
“That could be because I’m madly in love with you,” she teased. She taped the gauze, then placed a gentle kiss on my hand. “All better.”
“Thanks,” I told her, before drawing her in for a kiss.
After she cleaned up, Nadine plopped herself in front of her thick binder again. “Do you prefer pumpkin spice or apple cider?”
That was an odd question, but I thought she was trying to distract me. “Um… apple cider, I guess.”
She scrunched up her nose. “You guess? Are you sure?”
I shrugged. “If I was given the choice, I’d choose apple cider. Pumpkin spice isn’t a real thing.”
Nadine gasped dramatically, like I’d thoroughly offended her. “It is! How can you not love the impeccable blend of cinnamon and nutmeg and ginger and cloves!?”
“Is that all?” I teased flatly.
