Page 32 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

F or one more night, we live… and so does Caldwell. It was strange to be thrust into his visions so suddenly. It could be a trick, something Margaux and I both point out, but we have a feeling it isn’t.

It felt real . How else could he know what Poppy looks like?

I don’t have the words to talk about what I saw. When the visions end, we’re shaken and silent. The blood has drained from Caldwell’s face. I’m sick to my stomach.

Margaux silently opens a bottle of wine. We can get lost in the vision, or we can move forward. We must choose to move forward.

Caldwell is on our side, and it’s more important than ever to capture the killer. Otherwise, he’ll be framed… and it will be my fault.

We might regret it, but when we untie Caldwell, he doesn’t hurt us. He continues the meal with us as if he were there all along. There are no words to share and no idea what kind of plan to make. We’re in over our heads .

“Should we tell the investigators?” I ask over dinner.

“No,” Margaux says. “They couldn’t even find Caldwell, and—no offense—you’re not exactly slippery.”

“You’re right,” Caldwell says.” We have to do this ourselves.”

“Then we’re on the same page,” I say. “I’m done waiting around.”

I don’t think the others care about Poppy’s death or the deaths that came next. Not like I do. It was supposed to be me all along, and the more people I got involved—professors, investigators, everyone other than my friends—the more wrenches were thrown in my plans.

Now, we’re so close . Thanks to Caldwell’s vision, we know who to find, and I know exactly where to find her.

But before that, we rest.

Margaux shows us to our rooms and shuts herself away. A grave energy surrounds her as she goes. The music that plays from the room—soft goth tracks I only know because of Margaux—is a sign she wishes to be left alone. She has a lot to contemplate. We all do.

Caldwell and I stand in the doorways of our opposing rooms with our eyes locked.

Seeing him still makes my pulse jump, and I don’t know if it’s fear or desire. I can’t differentiate the two, and I’m not sure I want to. I grip the wood of the doorway, breathing in slowly to keep my calm.

“Get as much rest as you can,” he says. “Tomorrow is the day this all ends.”

“I don’t want the morning to come.” The words slip past my lips, and I blush.

I may be the only one afraid of what comes next. Caldwell has magic, Margaux has fangs, and I…

Well, I’m motivated by spite. I have nothing else .

“It will come whether you want it to or not,” he says, stepping closer.

Up close, I can see he’s the Caldwell I got to know so well. His eyes are still warm and wise. His body is still lean and limber and…

I want to trust him again.

“That is how days work,” I say, with a hint of laughter in my voice.

“All I ask is that you don’t stay up too late. We need you there.”

They do. I may not have strength or magic, but I know why they need me, and I can’t argue. I need to be there to make sure Poppy can finally rest… or at least, that I can get her out of my head.

“What if…” I tuck my hair behind my ear, nervously looking away. “What if I don’t want to be alone tonight?”

“You’ll have to ask me to stay,” he says.

“What?” I turn my attention back to him. “I thought you weren’t a vampire. Do you still need an invitation?”

“I do,” he says. “It’s more about manners than vampirism. Your friend is in the other room if you would prefer to spend the night with her. I won’t assume you want my company.”

I swallow, my throat dry, scratching on the way down.

“I want to spend the night with you.” The words are so quiet I worry he won’t hear.

He does, head ducked down, close enough for me to see the shift of color in his eyes.

“If you’re sure,” he says, “I would be happy to keep you company until you’re ready to sleep.”

My heart jumps in my chest.

“How?” I ask. “How can you still look at me like that after everything I’ve done to hurt you? How can you want to spend the night with me?”

“Because you’re still you. ”

I shake my head.

“I liked you from the start,” he says, “not someone else. From the beginning, you were full of suspicion and completely incapable of trusting.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone you should like.”

“But, you were more than that. Perhaps you were hyper-focused on helping your friend, but there was good reason. You were loyal, and you were so, so brave.”

“I didn’t feel brave.”

“But you were—and you are. You didn’t need anyone, and that made me want you. That’s why my vision brought you to me. I think. I haven’t fully worked out the why yet, but I know it’s because of everything you are, not the palatable bits and pieces of you.”

“I still don’t understand.” Even though the words make me feel lighter.

He says what I long to hear. Margaux has always been here, but she hasn’t seen the side of me that Caldwell talks about. I doubt anyone has.

“If you didn’t assume I was the killer and head for the hills,” he says, “you wouldn’t be you.

When you were running from me, when you were having your vampire friend tie me up, and even when you were threatening me—you were being you .

The same Tobey I always liked. It was the same you that my magic knew I needed by my side. ”

“You may have questionable taste.”

“Maybe so,” he says. “But I still look at you as I always have… and I won’t stop until you push me away.”

“I pushed you away once. I blocked you.”

“Yes, I figured that out… eventually.” He winces. “Keep me blocked. I would rather you avoid the three messages I sent after that. ”

“Really?” I gasp. “I didn’t know you had it in you to be mean.”

“No,” he says slowly. “Not mean. More of the same pathetic thing that you’ve already read. I just—I wanted to explain myself.”

“Now you have.”

“I have.” He nods and finally steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. “Is there anything else you need me to explain? About that night, or… anything at all?”

“How does your magic work?” I press my lips together.

“I don’t know.” He smiles wryly.

“How can you not know ?”

“The visions got stronger when my mother passed. She never had a chance to teach me how they worked. I had to rely on divination tools—cards and crystals—like the ones you saw in my bedroom.”

“I see.”

“Even with the tools, it was foggy. Now, they come to me in flashes. Each seer has a different way of using their magic. For my mother, it was dreams. For me, I think it’s touch.”

“What do you see when you touch me?”

He steps forward, his fingers grazing against my cheek and down my neck. “The loveliest person I’ve ever known.”

“Be serious!”

“I am…” He laughs softly, his hand falling to the side. “But I can’t control it that easily. If I had a vision every time I touched something… it would be very distracting and not so useful.”

“Good point.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I would be of more help if I could control my magic.”

“Oh, stop.” I take his hand in mine—something I’ve done so many times, and it still feels easy.

I squeeze his fingers like a lifeline. “You’re already the most useful person on the case.

If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t know where to go or who to find.

You did what no one else could do. Give yourself some credit. ”

“I’ll try.” His lips tug into a crooked smile.

We stand in the middle of the room, a space that belongs to neither of us, but having him there makes me feel more at ease.

“This is all so… fucked up.” They’re the only words that come to me in the end, followed by humorless laughter.

“It will be over soon.” He pulls me closer.

I rest my head against his chest. His heartbeat lulls me into a sense of security.

“Promise?” I murmur.

“I can’t promise anything… but whether it’s the end of it all or the end of this chapter, I promise to be there with you.” His lips press to my forehead.

I close my eyes, savoring the sweet warmth that fills me.

“I’m going to bed now.” I slouch against him.

“All right.” He detangles himself and slowly steps away. “I’ll be across the hall if you need me, but… try to get some rest.”

I want to ask him to stay—again. Not just for a moment but for the night. No matter how brave he thinks I am, I don’t dare to get the words out.

“I’ll try.” I smile weakly.

And I do try.

Caldwell returns to his room. Like the first night in this house, and like every night before it, sleep never comes.

I toss and turn, huff out sighs, and get lost in my thoughts instead of losing myself to dreams .

What if we’re too late? What if the night we spend sleeping is the difference between finding the killer and them getting away? What if Caldwell and I can never repair our relationship? What if he isn’t to be trusted after all?

And if that’s the case, what do I do with my yearning heart? He’s in the next room, and I would be lying if I said my thoughts didn’t drift to him most frequently.

The way he holds me is imprinted in the back of my mind, and…

I need him. Not for a moment, but for the night—and long, long after that.

I tiptoe to his side of the hall, knuckles rapping lightly against his door, praying I don’t wake Margaux instead.

He answers, opening up for me, and my jaw is on the ground.

His glasses are crooked as if he lazily perched them on his face just to see me.

Messy hair and heavy eyelids make him look adorable—no, he looks more than that.

The vision of him in front of me elicits thoughts of sharing a bed—waking with him next to me and of him disheveled after an evening together.

None of that is what has me gripping the doorjamb and swallowing my desire. His chest is bare. The only thing covering him is a pair of dark boxers slung low around his hips.

I forget to speak, blinking, taking in the sight of him.

“Are you all right?” he asks with urgency, pushing his glasses up his nose.

I breathe in deeply, managing a head bobble before I can properly respond.

“Yes,” I say. “I, um… I couldn’t sleep.”