Vacancy, page 21
I nodded. “O…okay,” I answered jerkily. But now reality was back, and I wanted to know what we were. Fuck. I didn’t even know what I wanted us to be.
Because I’d had a great time, too. I didn’t want this to end. And my instincts were screaming for me to grab hold of such an amazing guy and just keep him. But this had not been on my agenda at all.
I had goals.
Plans.
Boyfriends were an obstacle I didn’t want to deal with for the next two years.
But, oh my God, Damien made the idea sound really appealing. I was pretty much convinced he’d be worth strings and complications and obstacles.
Which was why I needed to think about this.
“I… I’m going to go put some clothes on,” I announced abruptly, pointing back into the bedroom and hoping I didn’t sound too scared, like I wanted to escape. Except I needed a moment right now.
He nodded immediately. “Yeah. Of course.” But the worry swimming in his eyes told me that he thought he’d messed up. He even opened his mouth, and I knew—I just knew—he wanted to ask if I was okay. But then he pressed his lips together, forced a tense smile, and settled for nodding.
I wanted to assure him that nothing was wrong—he hadn’t messed up. If anything, he’d been too amazing—but I was still freaked out by the barrage of emotions attacking me, telling me how much I liked him.
“I’m just going to trim my beard,” he added as he opened a drawer and pulled out an electric razor to give me a moment alone. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay.” I nodded and made sure to run my hands across his bare back as I passed by to reassure him. He sucked in a breath and glanced over his shoulder at me with whiskey eyes full of hope and fear.
In the bedroom, I shut the door behind me, then rushed to pull on my clothes as the buzz of his razor echoed through the closed door.
Once dressed, I crossed my arms over my chest and then began to chew on my thumbnail, with no idea what to do now.
I was so sure I’d be able to think straight as soon as I had my clothes on, but the entire room smelled like him, and I was more confused now than ever.
The man had invaded all my senses.
Hugging myself, I glanced around, hoping to spy something to ground me and help me think logically. But the first thing I spotted was the pair of panties I’d given him hanging from his bedpost.
He’d put them there on purpose so he could see them every morning when he woke. To think of me, first thing.
Damn, this was too heavy. I’d only wanted one night of no-strings sex to help clear my head. But now, everything was cloudier than ever.
And why did the thought of losing him freak me out more than keeping him?
When my gaze landed on his shelf full of serial killer books, I decided this uncertainty was completely Jaylani’s fault.
She’d been absolutely convinced something was wrong with him, and now that my senses were screaming yes—don’t let that boy get away—that little seed she’d planted was growing, preventing me from just accepting it for the amazing start of a relationship that it probably was.
I dropped my hands to my sides and drew in a breath to calm myself. But then my gaze landed on the picture of Thalia, or more aptly the empty space next to it. There was no denying he’d specifically taken some small frame off his shelf to hide it from me before letting me into his room. But why? Who had been in that picture?
And just what was he keeping from me?
This was something I needed to figure out before deciding to give an actual relationship with him a chance.
The best recourse here was to simply ask. But then, I didn’t want to act suspicious and accuse him of… Well, I don’t even know what there was to accuse him of.
So asking wouldn’t work.
Which was why I turned into a stupid spy.
With a quick glance at the door to the bathroom, I hurried to his desk and shuffled through a few papers to see if he’d simply tucked the picture under the pile. Then I opened all the desk drawers.
After that, I dropped to my knees and glanced under the bed. But the only thing under there was a pair of dusty, abandoned, lime-green running shoes and a folded display board—probably from some old science fair project.
Shoving my way back to my feet, I checked his bookshelves, dragging my fingers over his serial killer books next, thinking maybe he’d tucked the picture frame in there somewhere, under the guise of another hardback.
But nothing.
Turning my attention to the large wooden chest at the end of his bed, I bit my lip, more tempted than I knew I should be. The razor was still going full bore in the bathroom.
Dammit. I was such a bad house guest.
Dashing to the trunk, I knelt before it and pressed my fists to my mouth to keep from reaching for the lid.
It was probably locked, but after a whimper of defeat, I reached out anyway.
The chest opened without a lick of protest.
Holding my breath, I peered inside and got a big whiff of cedar wood.
Three-quarters full, it contained papers and books, like maybe old school projects.
And on top of the mess sat a manila folder, lying diagonally as if it’d been carelessly dropped inside with big red letters on the front that said evidence. The tab read case file followed by a string of numbers.
Unable to hold back, I reached forward to open it with one finger, hoping to get the tiniest peek inside.
But the photograph that lay paper clipped to the top sheet had me gasping and jerking away so hard that I lost my grip on the trunk lid and it snapped closed with a loud thump.
Yelping out a panicked screech, I landed on my ass in the middle of the carpet and pressed a hand to my rapidly thumping heart as I used the other to brace myself against the floor. But damn…what the hell kind of person would have a picture like that in their bedroom?
And that’s when I finally noticed Damien standing in the open doorway to the bathroom, watching me.
22
DAMIEN
Oh fuck.
Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
A wave of dizziness assailed me as my brain scrambled for a million excuses to give Oaklynn that would wipe the petrified look of terror off her face. Because I was pretty sure this was it; she was going to leave me for good, and my body was already going into shock over the loss.
Wondering how much she’d seen and how much I needed to explain, I took a step forward, already prepared to plead and beg. But she whimpered and scrambled backward away from me, crab-crawling in retreat until she ran into the wall.
I pulled up short and swallowed thickly.
She was scared.
Of me.
That was the worst possible scenario, and it made my chest hurt.
The image of her cowering on the floor away from me as if she honestly believed I might hurt her was going to be imprinted on the inside of my brain for the rest of my life. And every time I had a nightmare, it’d be one of the top five scenes to reappear.
Willing to do anything to wipe that fear off her face, I hoarsely rasped, “Oaklynn?”
She shook her head, breathing hard, and it seemed to take all the bravery she had to look up at me. “I—I’m sorry. I snooped. I know I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” I broke in softly. “It’s okay. It’s alright. Don’t even worry about that.” I lifted my hands in the surrender position, hoping to calm her, but she flinched as if I was going to strike.
A sob got caught in my throat, and I sucked in a painful breath, hating this more than I could remember hating anything in the last decade.
Still all the way across the room from her and frozen in the bathroom doorway, I wilted down onto my knees so I could get on her level. “Are you okay?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Oaklynn blurted out an incredulous laugh and shook her head jerkily. “Are you kidding me right now?” she demanded and started to point toward the chest. “I… That… Just what the fuck was that?”
“What did it look like?” I diverted elusively.
“I mean, I didn’t stare long enough to get the full picture, but it looked like a snapshot of a dead body—a bloody, naked, mutilated female body—inside some kind of cop or detective case file.”
Okay, then. So she hadn’t seen everything.
And though I strongly knew I should tell her everything, I just as strongly knew I wasn’t going to. It would ruin the perfect night we’d had together. And besides, she’d had enough of a surprise with the picture alone. I couldn’t completely terrify her right now with all of it. She’d never talk to me again.
But this…this, I could rectify.
I hoped.
“Well, that’s what it was,” I admitted.
Oaklynn’s eyes flared again in disbelief. She pressed a hand to her chest and shook her head. “But w-why do you have it?”
“Because…” I started and then took a quick breath before saying, “I’m a forensic psychology major.”
Except my major wasn’t why I had the file.
When Oaklynn sent me a blank look, I nodded my head slowly, hoping to help her connect the dots. I started to crawl toward her, and thankfully, she didn’t shy away this time, so I came in until I was about five feet away before stopping again. “And as a forensic psychology student, I study criminal behavior and case files in the hopes of catching…”
“Murderers,” she said slowly before she exhaled and let her shoulders sag. “Wow.” After another moment, she pressed a hand to her chest. “So that was just a…a fake police file to help you play mock detective, or whatever? For a class?”
I winced. “Not…exactly. It wasn’t fake. That was a real picture of—”
“Ack! No.” Lifting a hand to stop me, she grimaced and pulled her face back to shake her head. “God. That’s awful! Why in the world would they let you see something so…?”
“Well…” I started slowly. “If it’s the kind of thing I’ll be dealing with after I graduate, I guess I better start preparing to see that kind of stuff now.”
“Dear God,” Oaklynn breathed, setting a hand against her chest. “That is just…” She made a face, letting me know she didn’t understand my choices in career goals at all. But then she let out a breath. “I don’t even want to pretend to know why you would put yourself in that kind of position where you’d be forced to see that kind of stuff daily. Though it does explain all the psychology classes you’re taking.”
I tipped my head curiously. “How do you know I’m taking a lot of psychology classes?”
She waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter.” Looking a lot less scared now, she began to wring her hands. “What I should explain most is why I was snooping in there in the first place.”
“You don’t have to explain—” I started.
But she lifted a hand, stalling me. “Yes, I do. I was going through your personal shit, Damien.”
I shrugged, more concerned about her not leaving than caring about her curiosity.
But she admitted, “I was looking for the missing picture.”
I furrowed my brow, utterly confused. “What picture?”
She pointed across the room to the shelf where there was an obvious blank space next to Thalia’s senior picture, and I immediately cringed.
Damn.
Busted.
“There’s a blank space on your shelf,” Oaklynn told me. “And there’s no dust in a small section there, where it looks as if a picture frame was recently sitting. Which means, you must’ve taken it down right before I came in. You didn’t want me to see whatever was in that picture.”
I swerved my attention back to her and stared in half-frozen horror and half-frozen awe. But she’d figured that out way too easily.
“So…” She went on without waiting for me to scramble up some kind of bullshit answer. “I couldn’t help but wonder, what is he hiding? Because everything with you was going way too well. I mean, last night was…perfect.”
Heat filled my face because it’d been perfect for me too. So perfect, in fact, that the idea of losing her scared the fuck out of me.
“Which, by the laws of nature, means there has to be some kind of dark, awful, twisted secret you’re keeping from me,” she concluded.
I huffed out a laugh, half-full of amusement, half-full of guilt. “I don’t know if it’s that twisted,” I couldn’t help but admit. “Although it’s definitely not bright and happy.”
When Oaklynn merely lifted her eyebrows, awaiting more of an explanation than that, I pressed a hand to my forehead and glanced at her regretfully. “It’s…”
God. I should just tell her.
So I did.
“Someone close to me was murdered.”
Oaklynn blinked and then furrowed her brow in confusion. “Okay,” she said slowly because that probably only left her with more questions and no answers.
I nodded, letting her know I would keep talking. “Yeah. And I…I’m the one who found the body.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed, blinking at me once before shaking her head. “Are you serious?”
I shifted my head up and down silently as memories assailed me. The blood, the panic, the total devastation. The fear of not knowing what to do.
The loss.
“Damn, Damien,” Oaklynn murmured sympathetically. All fear gone, she crawled toward me to pull me into her arms for a hug. “That’s awful. When?”
Resting my head on her shoulder for a moment, I ignored the question, and soaked in this closeness before I lifted my face and added, “The murderer was never arrested, and that…” Letting out a harsh sound of regret, I shuddered. “That has bothered me for years.”
She nodded, totally understanding. “Of course. It would bother me too. And now I get why you’re majoring in Forensic Psychology,” she realized. “You want to catch the killer.”
I gave a jerky nod. “I mean, yeah… I would love to catch the son of a bitch. And it was the driving force behind my decision in majors. But I know the likelihood of solving a cold case like that is basically zero. I just… I don’t know. I’d like to do for another grieving family what couldn’t be done for mine, you know. I want to give them answers and closure and justice. And I want to get as many of those monsters off the street as possible so they can’t destroy another life again.”
“Oh, Damien,” she breathed. She stroked a hand over my hair, and I shuddered. “You have such a good heart.”
“I’m really sorry for scaring you,” I promised, watching her face carefully to make sure she was no longer afraid. “That is the last thing I would ever want to do. Okay? I would put myself in harm’s way before letting you get hurt.”
Her expression fell, and guilt clouded her features. “I’m sorry that I thought you could possibly be—”
“No, don’t be sorry,” I urged gently and took both her hands to run my thumbs over her knuckles. “I want you to question shit like that. Listen to your instincts. Always. Call me out on anything you think feels off. Because I have kept things from you, and it’s good that you could sense that.”
A burst of fear filled me as I pictured something happening to her the way it had Thalia. My grip on her fingers tightened and I spoke even stronger, “There are some truly awful, evil things out there. Stay sharp and alert. It’s what’ll keep you safe and alive.” Lifting a hand to cup her hair, I pressed my brow to hers and closed my eyes. “But you have nothing to apologize for with me, I swear.”
“Okay.” Oaklynn pulled away slowly, and when I reopened my eyes, she was studying my face thoughtfully. “So the picture you took from your shelf last night…”
I winced, already bracing for her to ask. The worst problem was I wasn’t sure how I would answer if she asked to see it now.
“Yeah?” I asked slowly, my voice hoarse with reservation.
“It was of the person who died? The murdered person you found.”
I exhaled, beyond relieved. Then, I gave a jerky nod, guilty because I knew I was still being less than honest with her for not just showing her the damn picture.
But she didn’t ask, and I couldn’t offer. I wasn’t ready to lose this closeness between us just yet. I liked her. A lot.
Besides, Thalia hadn’t told her either. I had a feeling my sister was enjoying the facade, getting to play like she was alive again, making a friend, having someone to talk to... It’d feel like I was taking that away from her if I told Oaklynn the truth too soon. I mean, why the hell would she continue to live there after learning her roommate had been murdered nearly ten years ago?
“Alright, then,” she said, and sent me a reassuring smile, letting me know she wouldn’t prod further.
Relieved that I had more time, I surged forward and pressed my mouth to hers. She laughed against my lips until I hooked a hand around the back of her neck and sealed us together more firmly.
And her laugh turned into a moan as she gripped my hair. We rose to our knees, desperate to get closer. But it wasn’t enough. I stood up, gathering her into my arms, and I carried her to the bed.
“I really should get home,” Oaklynn said.
Draped completely naked and utterly limp over my chest as she recovered from our last round together, she sighed contentedly and lifted her head to look up at me. “I have homework I need to get done before tomorrow.”
My arm on her hip tightened, and I pulled her snugger against me, even as I nodded and said, “Okay. I guess I do too.” Though, I’d gladly put it off for another hour or two—or ten—to get more time with her.
Smiling over my contradicting reactions, she leaned in to kiss my chin. “I had fun, though. Thank you for last night…and half of today.”
“Thank you,” I returned, sitting up when she did. “I enjoyed it too.” With a shrug, I added, “All except for that moment when you thought I was a sadistic murderer who kept pictures of my bloody, mutilated victims in the chest at the end of my bed.”
“Oh my God! I did not think you were a murderer,” she screeched in defense, whacking me with a pillow before she found her bra and started to slip it on.
