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It will be once I can redecorate. The furniture’s old-fashioned enough that I quite like the pieces thanks to a childhood of growing up around this kind of stuff, but the walls are a dark navy that makes the space feel too hemmed-in for my tastes.
When I open the door, Colt’s sitting up in bed, reading a book.
“What are you doing awake?”
He peers at me over the book. “You were gone a while.”
“And it disturbed you?”
“I’ve grown used to you being there.” There’s a wry twist to his lips. “Trust me, it surprised me too.”
I snort as I climb into bed, somehow satisfied that his mom knows where I sleep—as if that makes it,us, official. It wasn’t that we were hiding it, but it’s not something you advertise either.
“What are you eating?”
“Peanut butter.” I wiggle the glass at him. “Milk.”
“None for me?”
“You can have some milk.”
“So kind.”
“Trust me, I know.” As he snatches the glass and takes a sip, I murmur, “I spoke with your mom.”
“What’s she doing awake?”
I ponder the scene I came across. “She looked like she was plotting.”
“Clyde was the master of his own demise. She doesn’t have to do anything.”
“She wants me to reinforce it.”
“How?” I don’t have the chance to answer. He clucks his tongue. “She wants you to tell the police about the arson?” When I nod, he studies me. “Are you going to?”
Placing the now-empty spoon on the nightstand, I murmur, “Yes.”
His hand settles on my thigh. “We can go tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to come with me. Tee will.”
It’s his turn to cluck his tongue. “Hey, that’s my job.”
“Don’t tell her. She’s already fighting with Callan for the position of my BFF,” I tease.
His smirk is so delicious that I’d eat him up if I weren’t exhausted. The day has been long and the mayhem varied. Honestly, I’d still be face down on the pillow if I hadn’t needed the bathroom.
Curling onto my side so I can look at him, I drowsily share the little I learned from his mom. That’s when I slip in, “She said you refused to take Clyde’s call.”
“That he thought I’d help him arrange for his lawyer to come to Pigeon Creek is crazy in itself.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “The asshole was putting the suspicion onto me.”
My tired brain’s slower to function than I’d like, but… “Why do you think Lydia sent you poison pen letters?”
“And you.”
“She only sent that after we got her fired.”
“I think Lydia was spraying in the wind, sourcing cash wherever she could. They were on the brink of losing everything so she had to double her odds. Even Juliette was targeted.”