chapter 35
Decca, Yule
“It’s fucking freezing out here.” I shivered.
“Grumpy today, are we?” Chris produced a hand warmer from his pocket, snapped it to life, and handed it to me.
“Thank you.” I held it between my hands like a prayer book and lifted it to my face. “It’s all this waiting around. This does not feel emergent. This feels...”
He sighed. “It feels like they found uncovered skeletal remains, and we can all get going once it’s picked up.” His didactic tone had a patient, on-purpose edge. I gave him a sharp glare.
He raised his gloved hands. His leather and—was that fur?—lined gloves looked infinitely warmer than my badly handknit mittens.
“One skull. Better than my last site.”
He looked down at me, but said nothing, giving me the space to elaborate if I wanted.
I didn’t.
I hadn’t even told Gus about it. I wasn’t used to holding debriefs of my work experiences. Not verbally, anyway. I ignored them, or I physically repressed them, throwing an orgasm-induced oxytocin blanket over the memories so I wouldn’t have to think about them. That was how Chris and I had fallen into the friends with benefits trap.
At the moment, I was too far away from Gus to impale myself on his cock. So I said nothing and stayed grumpy.
It was four a.m. when I got the call this morning, pulled out of the warmth of our bed, where I’d been sleeping entangled in Gus’s arms. To freeze my ass off in the woods by the train tracks three days before Christmas. That was also what was making me grumpy.
I had gifts to wrap. A house to clean. A party to host tonight.
“You’re taking it back with you this time.” I glared at Chris. “I’m pawning this case off on the FAC, and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of students who could use another ID under their belt.”
“There’s no way I’m putting human remains in my brand-new car.”
“There’s no way I’m driving to Knoxville today, and Gus won’t let me bring anymore pets home with me. I’ll rock, paper, scissors you for it.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Not that there will be any students in the lab until January. But if it’s historic, and we don’t need to ID immediately, I’ll take it with me tomorrow.” He paused. “In my eight... day... old... Mercedes-AMG GT.”
“That sounds expensive.”
He gave me a double take, which probably meant I couldn’t even conceive of just how expensive it was.
“How can you afford that?”
“Veneers, baby. I’m a dentist first. That’s how I can afford to help forensics cases and have a car like that.” He gestured to the fancy black sports car behind us. It wasn’t overly flashy. It was low-profile, sleek, and reeked of wealth. I knew nothing about cars. I didn’t even know Chris was into cars. Or that he was wealthy. More than dentist-wealthy.
“You should have bought the Subaru. It fits an entire skeleton in its cargo, and you can hose off the mats afterward.”
He shuddered. Probably at the thought of hosing out his very expensive trunk of his very expensive car. “I’m not driving a Subaru.”
“I drive a Subaru.”
“Exactly.”
“I thought that was extravagant.”
“Since when did you become a hippie?”
“Right after you became Frasier Crane. I’m a goth. Not a hippie. Get your countercultures straight.” I shoved a mittened finger at him.
“After you take off those awful mittens.” He snorted, his breath forming a cloud. “And I’m not a Frasier. I’m a Niles.”
“They’re warm.”
“They’re pilling.” His mouth contorted into a horrified sneer.
I giggled. “You really are a Niles.” We were quiet for a while, then I burst out laughing. Chris followed, albeit less of a guffaw and more of a pleasantly jolly chuckle that highlighted his crooked smile and vampiric eyeteeth.
He looked pointedly at me. “You think your mood has nothing to do with the fact that it’s three days until Christmas and you’re the pastor’s wife, expected at church? I’ve never known you to be less than cold-hardy. You’re always the one ready to crawl into disgusting places to search through God knows what to find the smallest bone fragment.”
“He’s a priest, not a pastor,” I frowned and breathed into my hands.
“My point, exactly. Look, if you’re not going to use the hand warmer, I want it back. My other pocket’s cold.”
“I forgot already.”
“You miss your husband.”
“So?”
He was looking at me funny. Or maybe it was that his nose was practically frostbitten, and his glasses had frost crystals accumulating on them.
“I’ve just never seen you like this before.”
“Like what?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute. “Happy.” He nodded, smiling at me.
“You just called me grumpy.”
“You’re grumpy because you’re used to being happy now. It’s nice, Decca.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but.’”
“No. Ah... no.”
“Talk, Chris.”
His jaw muscles flexed. “I want you to interview for the job. You owe it to yourself to go there. See the FAC with fresh eyes. Director’s eyes. See yourself there and then...” He sighed.
“Then what?”
“Then turn it down. If you still don’t want it.”
“I already know I don’t want it.” I handed him his pocket warmer back and stepped away. They had to be ready for us by now. “With any luck, there won’t be any teeth left in the skull and you can head back before the storm.”
“I’m going tomorrow. I’ll miss the storm.”
“You’re driving east into the mountains. You won’t miss it.”
“Does Gus know? That you’re giving it up for him?”
I looked at the police and the techs milling around the tree line in front of us. “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t tell him.” That was what he’d been waiting to hear.
“No. It would ruin it.”
“Ruin what, Dec? That thing the two of you have been hiding?”
“It’s nothing. None of your business.”
“Then why did it look like he’d been living in the guest room?” he pressed.
I was silent as I looked down at my boots.
“I wasn’t going to mention it, but—”
“Chris, just because you’re still hung up on me—”
“I’m not. Look, this is not coming from desire or jealousy, or any place of bad intent. Whatever we once were is over and I’m over it. But you’re still one of my best friends, and I’ll never be over that.“ His face was open and honest, imploring me to make him understand. “I can’t let my best friend make a mistake that will risk her career—which has always been the most important aspect of her life—over miscommunication.” He sighed. “I don’t understand, Decca. Just talk to me.”
I took a deep breath. “He had to be married before ordination, or he’d have to remain single. A monk. I didn’t want that for him. So I proposed, and he accepted.” I got it all out quickly before looking up at Chris, silently pleading with him to take me at my word and be happy for me. Not make me feel ridiculous. Then I added the part that was actually true. “Because I had a crush on him. And I was pretty sure he had feelings for me.”
“Oh, Dec.” He sighed. “I like Gus. And I know he cares about you. I’d be blind not to see it. But… No. I’m going to ask you this, and regardless of your answer, I’ll always support you. Does he deserve you?”
Deserve me? Does anyone deserve anyone? No. Yes. “Yes. He does. And even if he didn’t, it doesn’t matter. I married him. I chose this.”
He nodded solemnly. “You did. But he chose it, too. A good husband will put you first. You need to tell him about this opportunity. Give him the chance to put you first. Otherwise, you might end up resenting him for a choice you robbed him of.”
“I’m putting me first. Wants and needs change over the years. Sure, I wanted a swanky, showoff position when I was in my twenties. That doesn’t mean I have to still want it now. My friends are in Nashville. My life. I’m rebuilding a family there, and I’m tired of losing people. Wanting a smaller life is not a lesser choice.”
“Okay.” He sighed and smiled. I waited for more words. It wasn’t like him to let an argument drop.
“Okay? That’s it?”
“You want me to keep pressing it? I respect your decision.” He smirked. “Even though it’s the wrong one.”
I shoved my mittens deeper into my coat pockets. I wished I could respect my own decision, instead of second-guessing Gus’s motives or mine at every turn.
Bitterness rose in my throat. I didn’t know what was wrong. Gus and I had been floating on waves of happiness. That wouldn’t last. Right now, sex was a novelty. He’d quickly tire of using my body as a playground. The same body coaxing out the same orgasms.
I’d let myself give in to the fun of it. It was what I’d been pushing for all along, wasn’t it? But where would we be after the newness wore off?
Maybe we hadn’t found the bones after all. Maybe we were built on cartilage.
“I’m not happy.” I said quietly.
Chris rolled his eyes.
”I am. But it’s a happy. Like standing on a frozen lake while the ice is cracking under my feet.” I stared off into the trees, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Admittedly, things were weird between us when you were there, but it’s not like that anymore. We share a bed now. All the time.”
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for what was about to come out. The truth. One I hadn’t been able to bring myself to admit before now.
“I love my husband, Chris. But he doesn’t love me. He loves women. And I’m the only one he’s allowed to have, so he makes do. I knew that when I proposed. I took advantage of him when he was at his most vulnerable. I don’t know how much longer I can ignore it.”
There. I’d said it. I thought I could bribe my way into Gus’s affection. He’d be so grateful I’d saved him from a life of solitude, it would translate into us riding off into the starlit plains on the same horse.
The worst part: it was actually starting to feel like a mushy, gooey love story. This morning, when my alarm went off, he pulled me closer into the warm protective cocoon of his body. Slow kisses trailed down my back, leading to slow, sleepy fucking as he lifted my leg and entered me from behind, whispering into my ear that I was his Crow, and how my pussy was made for him, and how much he needed me to come for him.
It felt like love when his shoulders relaxed and the tension left his brow whenever he found my face after walking into the same room, as if I was his refuge.
Or when he prayed, and I meditated, or he recited the evening hours and I observed respectfully, and his hand would slip off his book and search for my mine, threading our fingers together, needing us to be close.
It had been too easy; us playing house, slipping into the roles I’d always dreamed we could play.
Something had to be wrong.
Chris was giving me that look he did whenever I started to get too attached to a case. Like I was an idiot. “Gus does love you. Not like a priest or friend. He’s in love with you. Maybe it started out strained. Maybe you pushed too hard for it to happen artificially, but that’s kind of your MO.” He smiled as he teased. I looked more closely into his eyes. His smile was just a smile now. There was no desire behind it. His advice was the advice of a friend, not a jilted lover. I smiled back at him—to myself, really, feeling the shift in his emotion. He was already perfectly over the jilting. I knew it. I felt it. “That doesn’t mean his love isn’t real now. Please trust it. And trust him enough to tell him about the job.”
“He’ll make me go after it.” I grimaced.
He turned to face me, smiling his crooked smile. “I know.”
I thought about tromping through the one-acre patch of woods in the center of campus, teaching budding forensics students about insect larvae and guiding their research. My feet knew the familiar squish of the earth there. The spectrum of scents as donor bodies ebbed and flowed with the change of seasons and semesters. Did I want to go back anymore?
“That’s not what I want anymore.”
“But you’re not sure you’re happy with your marriage, either?”
“No... I... don’t know.” I wished Granny were here.
“Just keep your options open. Don’t deny yourself opportunities because you don’t want to disrupt the apple cart.”
“What are you talking about? I love disrupting the apple cart.”
“As long as none of the planets are in retrograde, and the tarot cards said it was a good day for applesauce.” His mouth quirked in his half smile. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.
Suddenly, a field of blonde popped into view. Daphne. My occasional assistant, looking even colder than I in a beat-up motorcycle jacket, short skirt, and combat boots.
“Hi, Dec! Where do you want me?”
Chris’s smile faded into a half-dazed expression as he took in the gorgeous pixie in front of him. I’d seen that look on other men’s faces. The look of sudden curiosity. Like he wanted to discover everything about her, from her favorite book to her Starbucks order, and no matter what she said, it was going to be fascinating.
It was how Waylon looked at Soula from across the bar the night they met. It was George’s default expression whenever he wasn’t grimacing at Bethany. I’d never seen it on Chris. Especially not when he looked at me.
Maybe this was the development I needed. It would certainly be a good distraction from my own relationship.
My polite smile widened into something real. “Chris, this is my assistant, Daphne McKinnon.”
“Daphne,” he said, still dazed.
She reached out her hand, and he removed his fur-lined glove to shake it.
“We’re still waiting for the police to make sure it’s safe for us to descend. Ladder’s the only way down from the tracks, and it’s a little rickety. A lot rickety, actually.”
“Want me to see how close they are?” she offered.
“If you want,” I said, knowing she was also someone who needed a project to keep her occupied.
Chris stared after her as she jogged away. I said nothing. He’d only deny his instant chemistry, and that would make it harder to plan a sneak attack later. I’d talk to Daphne and get a read on her feelings. Then she and I would strategize.
“You really make all that Mercedes Benz money by doing veneers?”
“No.”
I was beginning to get the picture.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you came from wealth?”
He thought about it, then answered quietly. “I didn’t want to start from the assumption that I’d somehow bought my education.”
“Chris, no one buys an advanced degree in forensics. They buy their kids a law degree to bury their crimes. Not solve them.”
He sighed deeply. “I wanted to impress you. For many years, if you recall my recent humiliation.”
“You seem fully recovered, at least.”
“I am. Now I can stop hiding the fact that I’m rich, and I’m free to find a woman who wants me for my money.” He laughed.
“Good luck with that.” Somehow, I didn’t think that was Daphne. “Come to dinner tonight.”
“I’m eating with my family.”
“On the estate?” I said in a hoity-toity accent.
He said nothing.
I pulled my lips between my teeth and clamped back a smile, knowing that meant he probably did have an estate somewhere in Nashville, and I didn’t want to know how far back his family money went.
“Daphne’ll be there.”
He quirked his head. “Maybe a drink after.”