Page 99 of Detectives in Love

“There was no reception,” Xavier says, his voice muffled and drowsy against my chest.

“No reception, or you ignored it?”

“Why would I ignore you?”

I pause. “Well, I thought you were pissed at me.”

He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “I wasn’t pissed at you.”

“Right,” I mutter.

Suddenly, something ice-cold presses against my stomach. I yelp and jerk back.

“What the hell are you—?”

“Warming up.”

“Your hands are freezing!”

“That’s the whole point.” He tugs me back in, his hands, a little warmer now, pressing back to my stomach.

I sigh, ignoring the way my skin buzzes at the contact. “You’re such a pain, Xavier. I don’t know why I put up with you,” I murmur—though it comes out more affectionate than annoyed.

Xavier doesn’t move his hands. Instead, he burrows his cold nose into the warmth of my neck.

I tense, trying to keep my breathing steady.

“You smell like cherry,” he murmurs. “And coffee.”

I snort, butterflies stirring at the sound of his quiet voice, even as I try—and fail—to keep my emotions in check.

“We had your favorite cherry pie.” I try to shake off the feeling creeping over me as I glance down at Xavier’s dark curls pressed against me. It doesn’t help. Goosebumps rise on my skin. I swallow hard and say quietly, almost sternly, “Don’t ever disappear like that again.”

“Okay,” Xavier says—flat, but oddly sincere.

I hesitate, then smirk. “You’re a lot more agreeable in the dark than in broad daylight.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mumbles through a yawn, nestling me in close, his now-warm arms tightening around my back. “I’m just exhausted.”

“Me too,” I whisper, sleep already pulling me under.

CHAPTER 12. OXYGEN

Breathing is a struggle. Something heavy pins me down, making it impossible to move.

“Newt…” a raspy voice whispers in my ear.

It’s not a dream. This is real. My eyes snap open. In the dim room, a dark figure looms over me.

Xavier.

His face is twisted in fear, eyes glassy and wild. Tears streak down his cheeks. His fingers grip my T-shirt, twisting the fabric, pulling—

“Xavier?” I grab his trembling hands instinctively. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. He just gasps for air like he’s drowning, every breath ragged, his chest heaving with wheezes.

“Xavier!”