Page 23 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

Chapter Fifteen

I haven’t been to Roslyn Street I found the bird mask. If ghosts are real, Poppy’s is haunting the woods. It’s easier to be here now that I’m closer to avenging my friend—and with Caldwell by my side.

The scent of rotting leaves and damp soil is the only thing with us—no killers and no bird masks in sight, even after half an hour of looking around the place and picking up rocks.

Caldwell and I walk hand-in-hand, and I realize I’m finding comfort in him. I let myself lean on others lately, for the first time in a long time.

After months of handling the loss of Poppy alone, it feels right to have people by my side.

“Is this where they found her?” Caldwell asks tentatively.

I point into the distance. “Over there.”

“What was her cause of death?”

“That’s the worst part. We don’t know. Her parents weren’t interested in investigating it.”

“ What ?” He sounds rightfully outraged .

“I know.” I shake my head. “She didn’t have the best relationship. When the cops tried to rule it as something drug-related, her family accepted it. They held the funeral and moved on. It’s sickening.”

“Then it could have been anything.” He frowns.

“Or anyone.” I hesitate. “I’ve been operating under the assumption that it’s a vampire, but now I don’t know. It could be anyone in a bird mask.”

“I have no reason to believe it’s a vampire,” he says. “We shouldn’t rule it out, but let’s keep our options open. There are a lot of people on campus who can kill a human without a trace.”

“Our options are too open,” I mumble. “We have no leads, now that you’re not the murderer.”

“I apologize for that,” he says in a deadpan voice. His lips twitch in amusement.

I roll my eyes as we continue forward.

“This is where I found the mask,” I say, standing in front of the spot. “It was months ago, and… I still have it at my parent’s house, if that matters.”

I’m half-expecting the mask to be there now, but it isn’t. The only thing on the ground is the damp, rotting leaves.

“I don’t know if we’re going to find anything else.” He squats closer to the ground, his hands ruffling over the fallen leaves.

“I know.”

“It would make it easier on us if they chose the same murder spot for their victims, but… alas.” He looks up at me with a crooked smile.

“There’s nothing in common with the victims, either. They’re different ages and genders, and… everything.”

“I know. I looked into that as well. Strode isn’t even the thing to connect them. Poppy had no ties to the school.”

“Right?” My heart sinks. “It just… none of it makes any sense. I don’t understand what Poppy was doing here in the first place.”

He rises, placing a hand on the small of my back. “Did she enjoy nature?”

“She did…” I press my lips together. “But it has to be more than that.”

“It is. My vision wouldn’t have shown her to me if she wasn’t part of the Strode mystery.”

“But these woods don’t have the answer.”

“Are you sure?”

I look around. The space is illuminated as the sun sets. Orange light shines through the tree branches, casting patterns of shadow and light. It’s settled. There’s nothing to be afraid of here.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure. We’ll have better luck at the vampire club. Unless you’re able to see anything else?”

Margaux’s parting words echo in my mind. She doesn’t trust Caldwell, but right now, I do . I need to trust him.

Margaux and I are still rebuilding our trust, and Caldwell is safe. Isn’t he? I look to him with desperation, certain he’ll share anything he finds with me.

His eyes close, the wind sweeps through his hair, and his chest inflates as he slowly sucks in a deep breath.

I find I’m holding my breath along with him, waiting for him to return with an answer. Any answer.

Instead, he returns with another apologetic smile.

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think these woods are the answer.”

“You’re right.” I take his hand gently, tugging him back to the car. “Come on. I think… I’m finally ready to let go of this place.”

We’ll find Poppy’s revenge, but it won’t be here. My mind can stop wandering to Roslyn Street in my dreams. I can step forward, stronger than ever, with Caldwell’s sight to guide me.

And he does guide me. He takes me back to his car and holds the door open as he always has. I rub my hands together as I wait for him to turn on the heater, the autumn chill going right to my bones.

He joins and turns on the car, but rather than driving off, Caldwell faces me, his expression soft.

“Do you want to talk about her?” He rests a hand on my knee, and I take comfort in the slight pressure of his touch.

I tilt my head to the side. “Poppy?”

“Mhm,” he says, humming his affirmation. “You two must have been close for you to go through so much trouble for her.”

“It’s not too much. It’s nothing.”

“You’re risking your life for her. Most people would go to the investigators, but… you’re a human going after vampires. You’re getting your hands dirty. I’ve never met someone so…”

“Stupid?” I supply, laughing.

“No,” he says. “Loyal. Brave. I would be honored to have a friend like you.”

“Then you should be honored,” I say, placing my hand over his. “We’re friends now. Aren’t we?”

He blinks, his lips parting—and then his expression shifts. A soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Yes,” he says. “We are. We’ve been friends all along, I think.”

“Not in my eyes. Our friendship is still very new.”

“Unsurprising, considering you thought I was a murderer, but I always knew you were loyal and brave.”

“And a little stupid?”

“Sometimes, bravery requires a bit of recklessness, but you have more information than Margaux or me. That’s not only because you’re more perceptive, but because you’re willing to do things that would terrify others. It’s not a bad thing.”

I’m at a loss for words. I look away from him, my attention roaming to where our hands rest on my lap.

“You deflected from the topic,” he says. “Poppy. You don’t like talking about her, do you?”

“I don’t…” I let out a sad, deflated laugh. “I don’t know how to talk about her.”

“That’s understandable.”

Yet, he waits for me to say more.

“After her funeral, it was like the rest of the world moved on… and I couldn’t,” I say. “My parents never brought her up—they weren’t her biggest fans in the first place. Margaux and I weren’t on speaking terms. Poppy’s parents practically went into hiding. The rest of the town moved on.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I couldn’t . They hired someone to replace her at the art store, and—I stayed here. My mind stayed on Roslyn Street, even after my body left.”

“And now?”

“Now…” I lift my gaze, meeting his. “If I didn’t meet you, I don’t think I ever would have left.”

“Don’t,” he says softly, squeezing my fingers. “Don’t give me credit. You’re the one who moved forward. You’re the one who suggested leaving this place. That wasn’t me.”

“But you turned on the light so I could see the path ahead. That was you. I would have stayed here in the dark forever. I would have dug my head into that bird mask and… and…” I close my eyes tight.

“It’s okay,” he says. “We don’t have to talk about her if you’re not ready. You’ve said a lot. ”

“Thank you.”

We stay there for a while with classical music floating between us and his fingers holding onto mine firmly.

When I finally open my eyes, I find myself leaning in, drawn to him. Caldwell is warm and comforting. There is concern deep in his gaze, and I realize how badly I need someone to care about me.

He does. I know he’s not the only one, but right now, he’s the one who matters.

“Do we have to keep taking it slow?” I ask softly, peering into his eyes.

His breath hitches. “Do you think this is the time… and the place…?”

“I want it to be.” I lift his hand, guiding it to my face. He holds me tenderly, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “I want one good memory here. Will you give that to me?”

“It can’t erase the bad.”

“I know.”

He leans in, and my eyelids flutter, my lips parting in wait.

“I don’t want to replace the bad,” I say. “I want to add something new—something good—and I want it to be with you.”

“Why?” He’s a breath away, his forehead practically touching mine. “Why me?”

“Because…” I let out a shaky exhale. “Because you’re good. You’re good enough to be here helping me when it wasn’t your friend who died. You’re smart enough to uncover hidden secrets that mystify me. You’re strong enough to protect me at my lowest, and I... I want this memory to be with you.”

“Say what you mean.” His voice is rough, unexpectedly so, enough to pull a soft gasp out of me.

“I want you.”

Those are the words he’s been waiting for, or so it seems. His lips finally find mine, taking the leap I was too afraid to take myself. His fingers graze over my cheeks, moving to the back of my head to keep me in place as his lips press firmly to mine.

My eyes close, and I melt against him, my fingers clasping the brown coat I’ve come to know so well.

I memorize the feeling under my fingers, memorize his tongue as it slides across my lips. I let him in, tasting him and allowing him a taste of me in return. When I pull him in closer, fingers gripping his coat harder, he grunts into my mouth.

“You want me, too,” I say between kisses, smiling against his mouth. “Right?”

His fingers tighten in my hair, using the grip to pull me back, his gaze penetrating mine.

“Yes,” he says harshly. “I would have fucked you in the club with everyone watching if you let me.”

“And now?” I touch his hand, guiding it further up my thigh. “There’s no one watching. Do you still want me?”

His eyes roll back, the heat between my thighs radiating onto our hands. His long, lithe fingers grip me hard, panting out ragged breaths against my mouth.

“This isn’t moving slow,” he says. “Not at all.”

“How long are those words going to haunt me?”

He smiles a devious smile; it’s one I’ve never seen him wear.

His hand pushes higher, fingers grazing against my clothed core. “Until you’re begging for me.”

My lips pop open in surprise. “Oh, that will not be happening…”

The thought of begging for him has me weak between the knees—and thinking about him giving me what I ask for makes me pulse. I can’t let him know, but it shows in the way I squirm in my seat, desperately moving closer to his fingers.

“No?” He teases me through the fabric, fingers brushing against me. “That’s too bad.”

My legs spread wider, my lower lip trembling. “But…”

“Shh.” He soothes me sweetly, leaning in to press a soft, silencing kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry. I can take care of you just like this.”

I open my mouth to ask what he means, but Caldwell doesn’t answer with words. He pushes my underwear to the side, his fingers plunging into my core. His eyes never leave mine as they move through my heat, wet fingers rubbing over my throbbing clit.

“Is this what you wanted?” His words are raspy with desire.

I shudder as his finger rolls over me, applying enough pressure to make my toes curl.

“I want more,” I whisper.

“But you wanted to go slow,” he purrs, circling me at an excruciating pace. “So, that’s what we’re doing. Nice and slow. Just like that.”

A frustrated sigh falls from my lips.

Caldwell’s gaze is still on me, tuned in to my every emotion and every twist of my expression.

“I always thought you were going to torture me,” I whine. “But I never thought it would be like this.”

He chuckles darkly, his fingers lowering to tease my entrance. “And you still wanted me then, didn’t you? Did you only like me because I was dangerous?”

He poses the question so simply, but it’s one I’ve been avoiding. It’s impossible to ignore now, his eyes boring into me like daggers. His thumb rolls against my clit as he slowly fucks his fingers into me.

My eyes flicker open to meet his, and beneath his desire, I see something softer; a need for reassurance.

“No,” I say, my breath hitching as his fingers curl into me. “I wanted you despite the danger you came with, and I hated myself for it.”

He smiles softly, hiding his head in the crook of my neck as if to hide the expression. His lips pepper soft kisses against the expanse of my skin.

“I don’t want you to hate yourself.” His words send goose bumps across my body. “I want you to lose yourself with me. Just for a moment.”

My fingers move to hold his head, curling into his hair, soft pants escaping my lips. The car windows are fogged, and that is the only thing that can keep the rest of the world from seeing the way his fingers pump into me over and over.

His thumb presses harder against my clit, and any response is lost as well to the whimpers and moans that fall from my lips. I lose myself the way he wants me to.

On the drive home, I realize I don’t want to be found. The day Poppy died, I died, too. I’ve spent so long looking for someone who was gone or something to make me feel alive again.

What if I get lost with Caldwell instead?