Page 17

17

Tallus

W e didn’t return to the B&B right away. Diem insisted on driving around town to see if we could locate Chett or any of the other teens we’d seen that morning. Twice, he returned to the head of the trail to see if any vehicles occupied the gravel lot.

After an hour of pointless driving, he gave up. The sky was darkening when he announced, “We should locate Hope Street. Pull it up on Maps and navigate for me. We need to find Londyn and Loyal’s house so we aren’t scrambling in the morning.”

Considering we needed to sneak in and out of people’s backyards to see if they had a pool, the encroaching night helped.

“You should get a dog,” I announced as Diem followed my instructions.

“I don’t want a dog.”

“Why not? Dogs are cute and cuddly.”

“I don’t cuddle.”

“Don’t I know it. I still think you should get a dog. It would be good for you.”

“I don’t want a dog.”

“It’s better than a snake. Who’s taking care of Baby, by the way.”

“No one. She was fed two days before we left, and her terrarium has a fully automated system that reads and regulates her environment. She’s fine.”

“What if the power goes out?”

Diem darted a glance from the road to me and back, a deep frown marking a divot between his brows. “Why the fuck do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“We’re not going to lose power.”

“We’re experiencing unseasonable ice storms. Power outages are a thing.”

“Fuck me.” He jerked the steering wheel, lurching the Jeep onto the gravel shoulder of the road and skidding to a halt. Phone in hand, he scrolled and swiped through his contacts, selecting one.

“Who are you calling?”

He didn’t answer.

“Do you have friends I’m unaware of?”

Still, no answer.

The line must have connected because Diem snapped, “Has the power in the building gone out in the last few days?” A pause. “Just answer the fucking question… Yes, I’m a fucking tenant… Krause.” Jaw ticking, nostrils flaring, Diem listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “I told you’d I’d have it next week… What email?” He squeezed his eyes close and looked like he wanted to unleash the fires of hell on whoever he was talking to. “Just tell me if we’ve lost power… Yeah, yeah, okay. Whatever. Fuck.”

He disconnected with a growl.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Pointing the phone at me, he spat, “Don’t ever fucking do that.”

“What?”

“You know what. I don’t have time to worry about my fucking snake, and the last thing I needed was to call my fucking landlord.”

Diem didn’t explain, nor did he take us back onto the road. Instead, he did something on his phone—checked his email if the conversation I’d overheard told me anything. Whatever he found must not have been pleasant. He tossed the phone on the dash with a slurry of more curses.

Spinning tires and spitting gravel, he took us back onto the road and drove, scowl etched into every groove of his face. Remembering the overdue bills in the glove box and his casual mention about not paying last month’s rent, I concluded his mood had something to do with money.

Trying to shift the conversation, I steered back to what we’d been talking about before he’d called home, hoping it would ease him back into a better headspace. “If you had a dog, she could have come with us. You could be the new age Turner and Hooch duo.”

“Tallus, I don’t want a fucking dog. In what universe do you see me as a suitable dog owner?”

“In this one. Echo liked you.”

“Because she’s a stupid fucking mutt who doesn’t know an asshole when she sees one.”

“You’re not an asshole, and she has good instincts.”

“She doesn’t… Christ, I’m not having this conversation, and PS, Turner and Hooch had a sad ending. Is that what you want for me? A sad ending?”

I chuckled. “No, D. Never mind. I’m dropping it. You’re hopeless.”

Diem could act miserable all he wanted, but I’d watched his interaction with the retriever back at Nicholas’s house, and during our short visit, the pup had managed to keep Diem from losing his cool more than once. Even I couldn’t always do that. Diem had touched the dog without thought. He’d shown it affection, attention, and gentleness. Witnessing their exchange made me smile and gave me hope. My surly, emotionally compromised boyfriend was not the lost cause he thought he was.

We located the twins’ house on Hope Street. The monstrosity exuded pretentiousness and displayed their upper-class status for all to see. It was easily the most affluent house on the block, which was saying a lot because all the houses along the river on Hope Street were colossal.

“We could knock on the door and insist on a chat,” I suggested.

“No. The parents could make trouble, and we won’t get what we need. Tomorrow. That’s the SUV we saw at the diner.” He hitched his chin to the familiar white SUV. It was parked beside a sleek black BMW. “So we know what they drive, where they live, and where they go to school. What I want to know is when and where this secret club meets and who’s a member. I want everyone’s whereabouts accounted for on the afternoon Weston went in the river, starting with the girlfriend.”

“School starts at eight, so we should plan to be here around seven thirty.”

“Seven. I don’t want to be anywhere near that fucking B&B when the air raid sirens go off.”

I chuckled. “Good call. What about the library? We could ask a librarian if they remember seeing Weston and Londyn that morning.”

Diem checked the time on the dash. Reading his mind, I googled the local library to find out their hours of operation and discovered a notice. Closed due to the ice storm .

“Tomorrow.”

We headed back to the B&B, much to Diem’s annoyance. He likely wished we had a hundred other tasks to perform, seeing as he hated the place.

When I suggested a bath, Diem said no. When I suggested a game of pool down in the common room, Diem said fuck no. I suggested a movie, but there was no TV, and Diem refused to use his iPad for nonsense. My stomach growled, so I suggested food, and Diem stormed out the door, returning twenty minutes later with yet another pizza.

Emotionally, Diem was a complex and layered individual, but when it came to fulfilling his basic bodily need for nourishment, he hated fuss. We ate a lot of pizza. I didn’t complain.

I brought the box to the bed and nibbled a slice.

Diem refused to join me.

All my cranky partner wanted to do was pace the room and fret about having to spend another night beside me in bed. Such a travesty. He didn’t say that was the problem, but I knew. I sensed these things. He’d managed to pack his anxiety away all day as we’d run around town, but the second evening hit and we were back within the four claustrophobic walls of our room with only one bed between us, he struggled not to lose his mind.

He couldn’t talk about the case. He couldn’t make plans for the following day. He couldn’t eat, especially with his jaw clenched, and my glowing sass got me nothing but dirty looks.

Diem paced and processed.

Giving up trying to get him to do anything else, knowing he would come around on his own, I left him to his devices. At least he wasn’t smoking and drinking. Those were sure signs his anxiety was in the danger zone, and a phone call to Dr. Peterson or a trip to the gym was in order. All in all, he was doing well. Progress.

To keep busy, I used his iPad to investigate the goings on around small-town Port Hope, itching to find details about the case I’d seen at the police department earlier. But, of course, I found nothing. I pulled up the school’s website, but other than a recap on how their sports teams were doing, the content didn’t interest me. Then, I looked up the kennel, curious if I’d find anything about the creepy man we’d run into in the woods. Nicholas’s father. What had he been doing out there?

Better question. What had Weston been doing out there when he was supposed to be in town at a meeting with the newspaper crew? I thought of the cabin Diem had discovered and Nicholas’s proclamation that teens often took to the woods to smoke pot, drink alcohol, or indulge in clandestine sexy times if the weather was nice.

And if the weather wasn’t nice? I was sixteen once, and finding random secret places to fuck was a skill only a horny teenager possessed. The weather this time of year was shitty, and if Weston had been with Londyn…

“Hey, D.”

He grunt-growled but didn’t stop pacing.

“Did you see inside the cabin?”

“No. I was looking down the barrel of a rifle instead.”

“Nicholas suggested that the twins lived in a property that might butt against the trail. I was thinking. What if Weston and Londyn weren’t at the library. What if they were having a secret rendezvous of the kinky variety in a cabin in the woods that just so happened to belong to Londyn’s family?”

Diem stopped pacing and stared into the middle distance for a few minutes as though processing the suggestion.

“It might explain why Weston was out there to begin with.”

He grunt-nodded and resumed pacing as though it wasn’t an insightful discovery. “Balls,” I muttered. “We’ll revisit my brilliance tomorrow when you’re more agreeable.”

Diem clearly couldn’t focus on anything except the problem at hand. The bed. Me. Us.

I shut down the iPad and found my phone, messaging Memphis instead. Waiting Diem out was a lesson in patience. Some days, I had loads to spare. Other days, I wanted to shake him because in what universe did taking your boyfriend to bed become a complicated affair? While chatting with my best friend, the bull paced and processed and paced and processed.

Messages from Memphis grew further apart, so I scrolled my socials, peeking up now and again to check on Diem. At some point, I must have drifted to sleep because the next thing I knew, I awoke to someone removing my glasses.

“Don’t want you to break them.” Diem’s voice came out low and husky.

Cloaked in darkness, illuminated by a single slanting shaft of moonlight, I studied the wariness on Diem’s face.

“Get under the covers. Your skin’s cold,” he said.

“Are you done pacing?”

No answer.

I didn’t have the energy to banter or tease, so I rolled when he encouraged me to roll. He tugged the covers from under me and pulled them to my chin. I’d stripped to my underwear earlier and was grateful for the blanket, not realizing how chilled I’d become.

“Lay with me, D.” I invited him inside my cocoon of warmth.

He grumbled and grunted something I didn’t understand but stretched out beside me with less resistance than I expected. He was mostly dressed, but at least he’d removed his jeans. I wormed closer, seeking his warmth. He didn’t shy away, but I sensed his immediate discomfort.

I snuck a hand under his shirt and ran my fingers through his chest hair.

“Cuddle me.”

“I don’t cuddle.”

“Don’t give me that shit. Cuddle me.”

I waited, and it took two or three minutes for him to comply, but he rolled and tugged me into his arms. Burying his nose in my hair, he inhaled, then exhaled with a sigh.

“It’s not so bad, huh? Someday, maybe you’ll be able to do this without taking the finish off the floor first.”

“I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight. I’m too anxious.”

“Why does cuddling with your boyfriend make you anxious?”

“Because… Because I don’t want to fuck it up, and I… I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t know where to put my arms or legs. What if I squeeze you too tight or not tightly enough? What if—”

“Cuddling is not rocket science. There is no right or wrong way. There isn’t a diagram or rules. Just… chase the high. Don’t run from it. Go with the flow.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay to feel good. Give yourself permission once in a while. Life doesn’t always have to hurt. You can float on a cloud of bliss instead of letting senseless worries drown you. Do you like this?”

“Yes.” His voice was barely audible.

“Me too. You’re doing great. There is no better place than to be in your arms.”

He quieted, and I rested my ear on his broad chest, listening to his pattering heart race. I forced myself to stay awake, always concerned I pushed Diem too hard.

But after fifteen or twenty minutes of silence, Diem’s heart rate calmed. His breathing transitioned from tight, strangled inhales and exhales to long, shallow draws. His tension evaporated. His body grew lax.

I sighed and smiled, burrowing deeper against his chest.

It might have taken hours of pacing, knuckle cracking, jaw clenching, and likely plenty of self-reprimand, but Diem had voluntarily crawled into bed and fallen asleep with me snuggled in his arms.

For most couples, an event like this would be commonplace. Simple. No big deal. For us, it was monumental.