Page 149 of Pretty Thing

“Do you hear yourself? You’re accusing my boyfriend, who has been nothing but amazing, of randomly killing one of my best friends simply because he’s a guy.” I cross my arms. “That’s crazy.”

Why is she doing this to me? Does she not want to see me happy? Is Felix right about that?

“Because he is crazy,” Kris hisses through her teeth. “Okay fine…what were you two doing the night Kyle was killed?” Her expression is angrier than I’ve ever seen.

“Felix gave me an incredible surprise, and we ate dinner on the roof. He is very romantic.”

“All night?”

“Yes,” I bite back, but stop when I remember I’m missing a chunk of time.

I was asleep, but still. Could Felix sneak out and do something like this?

No. Stop. This is exactly what Felix meant when he said that every time I’m with Kris I come away questioning him and his motives.

I point at Kris.

“Come to me with proof if you’re going to make disgusting accusations like this, or don’t bother talking to me again. You’re my best friend, but this…whatever this is, has gone too far. I can’t believe you’d do this today of all days. We’re at Kyle’s funeral, and all you can think about is how to split up me and Felix.” I back away. “I don’t get you, Kris. I really don’t.”

“Eden?” I stop with my hand on the bathroom door. “If he did this, I will find out. And…I’ll never forgive you for bringing that lunatic into our lives.”

Shaking my head, I yank open the door and walk out.

Blinking the memory away, I slowly turn on my side and wrap my arm around Felix’s waist. He pulls me closer. Even in sleep, he is gentle and protective.

I just can’t see him doing what Kris is saying, but…could he? It’s odd that Kris suddenly decided to let bygones be bygones after what she said to me in the bathroom. Has he threatened her? I know he did something to that guy in the diner.

Ugh. I close my eyes, hating that I once more let Kris put doubts in my head. The one thing I swore not to let her do again.

forty-two

​. . .​

Eden

I’ve taken Felix up on his offer for a day off.

But now I’m pacing, thinking nonstop, and randomly breaking down into tears.

I’ve forced myself to go right back to the crash and replay every moment we’ve shared. Every touch, kiss, and word spoken.

There is nothing that screams killer, but…he has never told me how he got into my house the night he brought over food. I’ve never asked him about cleaning my house after I told him to leave and watched him go. No one else would have come back into the house to clean.

It was sweet, but…a blatant overstep and invasion of personal space. Not to mention my trust.

What bothers me the most is the truth about Sam.

I understand being scared, but he knows me. He says he does anyway, so he should know that I’ll never turn him away over his grief. I don’t think it’s strange at all that he drove around with his brother’s ashes.

Why haven’t I pushed him more on any of this?

The answer is obvious. Because it’s easier to let him help, and I still want his help. Being here with him is easy and comforting, but that doesn’t mean I can ignore all the other stuff.

Is he a killer?

I don’t think so, but something isn’t right, and all the questions I don’t want to look at too closely are now giant waving red flags.

When I hear his feet on the stairs, I grab my book and sit down on the couch.