“Why did you stay?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It was supposed to be temporary, after college. But then you have an apartment and a job and it just seems so daunting, moving to another city. I kept putting it off and putting it off, and now I’m almost thirty and I guess this is where I live now.”
“It’s not too late. Look at me. I up and left.”
His eyes flick up to mine. “I always admired that.”
“Yeah? I think most people thought it was stupid.”
“No, it was brave. And smart. No one likes you here.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “Wow, Emmett, don’t hold back.”
“You know it’s true.” He smiles, and a silence settles between us that feels more charged than comfortable.
A lot of moments between the two of us had felt charged, especially as my marriage started to fall apart. One moment in particular comes back, making my heart pound.
“You can talk to me, you know.” Emmett had me cornered in the upstairs hallway. Downstairs, I could hear Matt laughing with our friends.
“I know,” I said softly.
“About anything.” He jerked his finger in the direction of the living room. “Including him.”
I took in a tiny breath and tried to keep my expression neutral. I tried to smile reassuringly, but it was hard when Emmett was looking at me like that. He didn’t usually look at me like that. Like he wouldn’t mind if I pushed him into the bedroom right now.
He put a hand on the wall behind me, so close suddenly that I could smell his soap. I rose up on my toes, and that was all the invitation he needed. His mouth covered my own, his body pressing against mine.
I almost pushed him into that bedroom. We could do it quickly, while Matt was still downstairs. I loved that idea. Maybe I’d even forget to put my underwear back on, so he could wonder later when he found it if something had happened.
I winced and quickly ducked away from Emmett.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” I rushed away without looking at him. New low, considering using one of my best friends to piss off my husband. The friend I knew had feelings for me, probably since high school.
I reach for Emmett’s hand. I’m actually a little surprised when he doesn’t pull away.
“I wish I’d left with you that night,” I say quietly.
He cocks his head in question.
“That night we kissed. I should have just left Matt and gone home with you.”
“Oh.” The word comes out as a laugh. “I would have loved that. And I honestly would have loved to see his face while you did it.”
I laugh too. He squeezes my hand.
“You should come to L.A.,” I say. “Just pack your stuff and come. We can…” Hang out? Start over? I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
He laces his fingers through mine. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
I almost say, Unless it turns out I actually did murder Savvy. I almost make it a joke, and act like an asshole, as usual.
Instead, I smile. “I absolutely mean it.”
Emmett’s eyes catch something behind me, and his smile fades. He slowly drops my hand.
I turn. Keaton Harper is walking—stumbling, really—across the room toward me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LUCY
“Calm down, I just want to talk.”
Keaton says the words to me before I’ve had a chance to react to his strolling up to me and Emmett. I bite back the urge to point out that I’m totally calm. I’d rather not get murdered by Savvy’s brother today.
Keaton pulls up a chair and plunks his beer down, sloshing some on the table.
He looks like Savvy. He always has, but it takes my breath away for a moment when he lifts his head to meet my gaze. Same blue eyes, same nose, same way of twisting their lips when they’re nervous.
His eyes are clear, steady on mine. He’s obviously tipsy, but not totally wasted. He takes a gulp of his beer like he’s trying to rectify this.
“Why don’t you finish that and I’ll drive you home?” Emmett offers.
“I’m fine.” He jerks his head in the general direction of the bar. “I have a ride.”
He goes silent then, and Emmett and I exchange a glance.
“So, how have you been?” I finally ask. Maybe the suspected murderer is supposed to start the conversation in this situation.
He shrugs. “Fine. Got married. Had a kid.”
He looks fairly miserable about both these choices, so I’m not sure how to respond.
“I want to talk to you about Savvy.” He drains his beer, wipes the dribble from his beard, and signals the bartender for another.
“I sort of guessed.”
“You and that podcaster are chummy now, right?”
A scene from last night, Ben’s head between my thighs, flashes through my mind. “I don’t think that chummy is the word.”
“He’s on your side,” Keaton says.
“Ben is always only on Ben’s side.”
“When I talked to him, he seemed to be real sympathetic to you.”
I shrug. The waitress sets a new beer down in front of him.
“Does he think you did it?” he asks.
“I don’t know, why don’t you ask him?”
He slumps back in his chair with a long sigh. “You are still a giant pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Hey—” Emmett starts.
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
“But in a fun way,” Emmett says helpfully. I laugh.
Keaton rolls his eyes. “Listen. I’ve been thinking.”
“A dangerous pastime,” I say.
“Yeah— Wait, what?” He waves his hand like he’s annoyed with me. No one can blame him, considering I’m making Beauty and the Beast jokes while we’re talking about his sister’s murder. “I didn’t know. About Matt.”
“About Matt and Julia?” I ask, playing dumb. “No one did, from the sound of it.”
Keaton pauses. Emmett takes a sip of his beer and grimaces.
“I didn’t know he was a jerk.”
Emmett snorts.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keaton asks.
“Nothing.” Emmett drinks and grimaces.
Keaton gives him a weird look. “Anyway. I didn’t know he was … you know. Violent.”
“Yes, a real shocker,” I say earnestly. Both Emmett and Keaton freeze, and then exchange a glance.
“I didn’t know,” Keaton continues. “And I didn’t know that he left after he got home that night. And that Nina was over there. I don’t…” He takes in a breath and makes a fist. I lean back, away from him, just a tiny bit.
He stares at me in this open, sympathetic way that makes me uncomfortable. I wish he’d go back to looking like he’s about to murder me.
“You really don’t remember that night, do you?” he asks quietly.
“I think about the way the knife went into his throat every night,” she whispers in my ear. “It’s like my own personal lullaby.”
“No,” I say.
“Did you think Lucy was lying?” Emmett asks, with genuine curiosity.
“Of course I did! We all did.”
“I didn’t.” He says it matter-of-factly, and maybe I’m an idiot, but I believe him.
“Well, good for you, Sunshine, but the rest of us were skeptical. But now…” He shakes his head and takes a drink of his beer.
I lean forward, folding my arms on the table. It’s damp and sticky with beer. “Keaton, are you trying to apologize to me?”
“No.” He runs a hand over his mouth. “Fuck, I don’t know. But you know what I do know? I know both Matt and Nina well, and neither of them said shit to me about being out that night. They didn’t say shit to anyone. And that doesn’t sit right.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LUCY
Ben wants to meet at Grandma’s again, and he’s waiting for me on the porch when I pull up in front of the tiny pink house. He strolls over to me as I get out of the car, tossing his dark hair out of his eyes in a way that seems practiced. Like he rehearsed being sexy in a mirror.
“Why are you always here?” I ask.
“I’m not always here.”
“You’re not fucking me and my grandma, are you? That would really bum me out.”