Page 128 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“Just close your eyes and I’ll be there before you know it, okay princess?” Cass reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I swear.”

Again I just nod, opening my eyes when the paramedics lift the stretcher into the ambulance. A smaller shape follows, and Sophie sits down on the bench near me, not caring that the female paramedic was definitely about to sit there. “Don’t worry, Winnie,” she says, tucking her stuffed elephant into the crook of my arm. “I’ll hold your hand while you get any shots.”

“If there are shots involved, I’m rioting.” I sigh, leaning back against the head of the stretcher as the ambulance starts moving, crawling out of the driveway. “I hate needles.” But I don’t hear Sophie’s answering reply, or whatever the paramedic says to her. I’m too busy staring through the small windows at where Cass and Virgil are standing on either side of Trudeau with looks on their faces I hope to never see again.

Cass doesn’t show up at the hospital, but in his defense, I’m only there for a couple of hours. Lou comes to pick me up, asking questions and worrying over me enough that I don’t get to go home. Instead, she demands I spend the night with her, and even goes so far as to make me the same hot cocoa she used to make when we were kids while I text Sophie’s parents to make sure she’s all right.

But as good as it is, it means I won’t get to see Cassian tonight. There’s no way Lou won’t kill him, and I can’t handle more of that tonight. He answers when I text, though, apologizing again for not coming to the hospital.

I promise I’ll explain, he texts back. I’m sorry. I love you.

I’m not even mad. Not really. I just miss him, and I stare at my phone, reading the words again.

I love you.

Do I love him too?

What if I don’t love you? I text back finally, and his answer is quick and free of any anger that I can see.

I’ll present to you my six-step plan in the morning of how I’ll change that. Can you try to get some sleep for me, princess? You have to be tired, and I know your head hurts. We already discussed my lack of a concussion, and my killer headache that feels like it’s going to be a migraine.

While I really do want him here, I can’t help but admit that more than anything I just want to pass out and leave this headache behind.

You’d better be doing something important, I finally tell him, curling my legs up while trying not to disturb Minxy too much.

Really important. I wouldn’t be away from you for anything else.

And you owe me. I smile up at Lou when she makes a comment about what we’re watching, though I’m not really sure what she said.

I owe you the stars, and I’ll give you every single one. Good night, princess. I’ll say it again for you: I love you.

I’ll consider if I love you too. That’s the best I’ll give him, at least for tonight.

Knowing it’s the end of the conversation, I place my phone on the end table and pick up my drink, fingers stroking over Minxy’s ears as the cat purrs in satisfaction. My sleepy attention drifts back to whatever Halloween movie Lou has on, content to zone out in contentment.

29

It’s only because I can’t sleep that I catch the five am special news report which interrupts some entirely un-relatable celebrity reality show that’s predictable as hell. In my tired haze, it takes me a few seconds to realize what’s happening on screen. By the time I do mentally tune in, the stern-looking woman on the screen is halfway into what she’s saying.

“—in a gruesome scene this morning. There are no leads so far, and his estranged wife has not released any statement. We ask the community to respect the loss of one of our finest, as Detective Mike Trudeau served over a dozen years with Akron law enforcement.”

I stare blankly at the television, listening as the news anchor proceeds to mention how the police suspect gang involvement with the detective’s death. She then reassures her viewers that despite the murders in Hayden Fields lately, this one took place in Akron, so no one should worry about it becoming a spree.

My hands feel numb as I get to my feet, and I barely manage to text Lou before I’m outside and waiting for an Uber to take me home. Since, as far as I know, my car is still at Sophie’s house from last night.

Shivering in my hoodie, I fiddle with my phone, considering texting Cass but ultimately not doing it. Not yet. But the minutes pass like hours, even though I know it can’t be more than eight minutes before my car rolls up.

I barely register when the driver greets me, and I don’t say a word on the fifteen minute trip back to my mom’s house.

“Thanks,” I manage to murmur, when I step out of the car. Whatever the driver says is lost in the fog of my mind, and only when I’m up on the small porch do I realize my car is in the driveway. Probably thanks to Cass, if I were to guess.

After all, it’s not like the friendly neighborhood detective is around to do me any favors.

Gazing at the door, I stare at the handle before reaching for it, somehow knowing it won’t be locked like it should be. Sure enough, the door swings open easily. I step inside, eyes fixed on the floor where traces of crimson footprints show me the path the killer took through the house.

Naturally, that path leads me up the stairs. I follow the prints, covering them with my shoes as I go, like I’m trying to walk the exact same way he had, down to the centimeter. The cream carpet makes the traces visible in the near-dark, and I’m suddenly grateful for the nightlights I jammed into the hallway sockets after falling up and down the staircase of the usually empty house enough times.

My door is open, but it’s too dark in my room for me to see anything. Instead, it feels like the darkness is unnatural, like a black hole swallowing everything that enters.