Chapter 33
how to grieve in public
Kit hadn’t expected James to invite the others. Darius, maybe, but not Holden. Yet all four of them trooped solemnly through the rolling green grounds. Afterwards, Darius’s sister and her girlfriend would be joining them for dinner.
That was a lot of family. But meeting Holden’s parents had gone okay. Kit wasn’t as nervous this time.
“They’re this way,” James said, snagging Kit’s hand.
The warmth of his touch was grounding. For both of them, probably. A gentle April breeze ruffled Kit’s hair, and the sky gleamed a delicate blue. The red tulips in James’s other hand were the brightest things in sight.
Nazario Bradach’s disappearance had been all over the news the past few weeks. Zero concrete leads, plenty of conspiracy theories. Bishop said SCPD was probably afraid to investigate. The Rat Kings had a few cops on a leash. They would be wondering why the leash had suddenly gone slack.
Felicity Carrow’s disappearance wasn’t even a whisper. Darius had a professional acquaintance—the less known about them, the better—maintaining her property for the next few months. By the time anyone realized she was gone, her disappearance shouldn’t be linked to Nazario’s.
Killing people was more complicated than Kit realized. If you didn’t want to get caught, at least.
James’s family rested in a secluded corner of the cemetery. Behind dark hedges, dragonflies skimmed a rippling pond. A marble bench sat in front of a marble tower as tall as James—the Zhou family columbarium.
Kit had had to look up the word. He’d never been to a cemetery like this before, to visit someone specific instead of just reading all the old names. All his mourning was done in private, twisted up in self-loathing, then numbness.
He wasn’t sure how to grieve in public. Whether he should stay silent and solemn, or say something comforting, or—
“Nice place,” Darius commented casually.
“Dad picked it out.” James squeezed Kit’s hand. “They never expected to need it so soon, but that was one less thing to figure out afterward.”
Holden wandered away to stare into the water.
Oh. Kit should just act normal.
“I like the pond,” Kit said, which sounded inane once it was out of his mouth.
But James grinned. “So did Dad.”
After another squeeze, James let go of Kit and knelt in front of the marble. A wrought iron holder stuck out near the bottom, and James slid the bouquet in.
Silence breathed through them again. Kit let himself relax, without expectation.
“Hey, Mom. Dad. Crystal and Iris.” James’s voice was quiet but unselfconscious. “I got them. I won’t get into the details. Crystal and Iris don’t need to hear that. But you’d probably be proud, Mom. We’re more alike than we should be.”
Kit didn’t believe in any afterlife. The Zhou family wasn’t listening in. But these words weren’t for them. Kit wanted to touch James again, then realized he already was. His hand had moved unbidden to James’s shoulder, which rose and fell with a deep breath.
“Also, I met someone.” James’s voice turned sly. “I’ll tell you more about him next time I visit. He’ll get embarrassed when he’s right here.”
“I will not,” Kit started, then sighed when Darius laughed behind him. “Yeah. I will. Do you want a minute alone?”
“Just a minute,” James answered.
Letting go of his shoulder didn’t feel like letting go.
Kit drifted toward Holden, Darius in his wake. They all moved through the same space, aware of each other, reacting, separate but chained together.
Holden contemplated the rest of the cemetery, outside the sheltering hedges.
“What are you thinking about?” Kit asked quietly.
Holden answered just as quietly. “It’s nice that the Zhous are in urns, if James wants to talk to them. People in graves end up all jumbled together underground. The coffins eventually disintegrate, and as soil shifts around—”
“Why did you ask?” Darius muttered.
Kit had to muffle his laughter.
Kit was almost ready for dinner when James knocked on his open door. “Let me change my shirt,” Kit said, rifling through his dresser drawer.
“You’ve changed your shirt three times in the past minute and a half,” James pointed out. “I’ve been watching. This one looks good on you. Keep it on.”
Well. The dark red button-down definitely looked better when accessorized with a casual, confident order. Kit would go with that.
Maybe he was more nervous about meeting Miranda and Paz than he’d realized.
“I have a present for you,” James said, which was a welcome distraction. He had one hand behind his back, and a hesitant expression.
“What is it?” Kit moved closer, then stopped, eyes narrowing. “I’m not wearing any sex toys to meet Darius’s sister.”
“It’s not a sex toy, unless you’re more creative than I am.” James presented a thick, floppy book with a flourish. “Here.”
James’s usual gifts were expensive. Sleek little gadgets, luxurious clothes. The new book in Kit’s hands had a garish, glossy cover, and the boldest words in the title were GED Practice Tests.
Confusion melted into something sweeter.
James rushed into an explanation before Kit could thank him.
“I’ve had this for weeks, but I didn’t want to give it to you.
I want you to be dependent on me. I want you to need me.
Chains, money, blackmail, whatever it takes so you never leave.
” James traced the curling edge of the book cover.
“But I want you to be independent, too. Because that way, I know I have you locked up so tight, you won’t leave even if you can. ”
Like there was even a chance. Kit’s throat tightened, each word better than a collar.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” Kit chewed his lip. “Thank you. This is really sweet. I’m going to fail so hard at these.”
“That’s the point.” James caressed Kit’s chin, then thumbed the damp curve of his lip. “You have to know where you’re starting, so you know what to learn.”
“Thank you,” Kit said again.
The practice book thumped to the floor as James shoved Kit against the wall. They kissed hungrily, desperately, until the doorbell rang.
Dinner went better than Kit expected. There was only one awkward moment when they were all sitting around heaping plates of Darius’s chicken parmigiana.
All of them minus Holden, who bailed at the last minute. Probably smart. As much as Kit liked the idea of them all doing things together… yeah. That was a little much. It wasn’t like Holden and Darius were dating.
Not that James and Darius were dating each other, either. They were both just dating Kit. And neither seemed inclined to save Kit from Miranda’s questions. Bastards.
“Do you go to SCU?” Miranda asked sweetly.
Miranda ran admin for a local community theater, which was where she met Paz. She barely resembled her older brother at first glance. Her face was sharper, her full lips more prone to smiling. The neon pink wig brought a vivid glow to her dark skin.
Her polite question barely hid her steely skepticism.
Honestly, fair. Kit was hardly an appropriate boyfriend for Darius. The thirteen-year age difference was the least of their issues, but it was the most obvious.
“I dropped out.” Kit said, snagging a second piece of garlic bread. His answer was truthful—but dodged the fact that he dropped out of high school, not college.
“What do you do?” Paz asked next, and her cheerful interest held none of her girlfriend’s skepticism. A thick braid of black hair circled her head, and the full face of makeup somehow went perfectly with her ratty tie-dye t-shirt.
Kit bought time chewing his garlic bread. “I’m an assistant.”
Miranda glared daggers at Darius.
“Not Darius’s assistant,” Kit clarified hastily.
Miranda’s glare jumped to James.
“Not mine either,” James said, only leering slightly. “Unfortunately.”
“I work for Bishop,” Kit clarified. “He’s a private detective. What do you do, Paz?”
That was a good diversion; Paz’s array of part-time jobs took them through the next half hour of conversation. Actress, dog walker, mural artist, makeup artist, occasional shifts at her mom’s comic book store. Kit didn’t know where she found the time, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one.
“Darius said you do Miranda’s cosplay makeup,” Kit said, and serenely ignored Darius’s groan. “Do you go to a lot of conventions?”
“Yes!” Paz pushed her plate aside and whipped out her phone. “Do you want to see photos? Miranda looks amazing in—”
“Not the latest con,” Darius said suddenly.
“Why not?” Miranda pouted—the most ‘younger sister’ expression she’d shown yet. “I won second in the costume contest.”
Darius took Kit’s empty water glass. “Kit’s not into gore,” he said, heading for the kitchen.
“Ooh, good call.” Paz swiped hastily through her photos. “I forget normal people get freaked out about the zombie gore.”
“Paz is amazing at zombies,” Miranda enthused. “But she’s okay at magical girls, too.”
“I’ll show you okay,” Paz said, just as cheerful.
Luckily nobody but James was looking at Kit, because he couldn’t control his stunned expression. Nobody had called him normal since… he couldn’t even remember.
He was normal right now. Sitting in his normal dining room, eating normal chicken parmigiana, his boyfriend returning with his normal refill of water. A normal kiss on top of his head. A normal flush. A normal raised eyebrow from his boyfriend’s sister.
All the murders and abductions and nightmare photographs couldn’t take this away from Kit. Nothing in the future could, either.
Even better—this was an unexpected opportunity. After admiring the curated, blood-free portfolio, Kit asked, “Do you have any photos of Darius in cosplay?”
Darius choked.
Miranda beamed. “Of course not,” she said, dragging out the unconvincing lie. “But we should exchange numbers. Just in case you ever need anything.”
“This was a terrible idea,” Darius said, covering his face.
James leaned back, smug. “This was a wonderful idea. So nice to meet you, Miranda. Stay for dessert?”
“What dessert?” Kit asked, entering his number into Miranda’s phone.
“We have…” James trailed off. “Red wine. And white wine. All right, so we don’t have dessert.”
“Don’t we have ice cream?” Darius asked. “Not that I’m letting my menace of a sister stay for dessert.”
“I ate all the ice cream,” Kit confessed, handing Miranda’s phone back. Moments later, his own phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Miranda Fontaine
Unknown Number: HMU if you ever need anything
Unknown Number: Stand by for photos later
Grinning, Kit hid the screen from Darius.
An hour later, Kit curled up on the couch. He’d already ditched his button-down for a sweatshirt. His comfy shorts were short enough that Darius banished him from the kitchen after ten minutes of making out. Too distracting for cleanup—Kit’s diabolical plan had worked.
Partly. Kit intended to continue the makeouts with James, but James looked too distant at the sink. They visited his parents’ resting place today. Kit would permit emotions to happen.
Including positive emotions. Meeting Miranda was nice. Not just because Miranda was nice, but because seeing new aspects of Darius was enthralling.
Speaking of…
Kit’s phone buzzed thrillingly. Unknown number. Miranda must be home already and wasting no time. Kit perched on the edge of the couch, ready for the forbidden cosplay photos.
Except Kit had already added Miranda Fontaine to his contact album. Her number shouldn’t be unknown. Instead of photos, the screen showed a simple line of text.
Unknown Number: You should be more careful. Someone ran your DNA.