Chapter 12 Robin #3
“I did, but hear me out—I promise I didn’t look and it was pretty dark in here anyway when I came to check on you.
You were all twisted in your dress and it’s boiling in this heat, so I just thought you’d appreciate it when you woke up.
” He says with sincerity. It’s like he can’t help himself though, because he winks. “Plus your snoring was cute.”
“I do not snore!” I finally give in and launch another pillow, causing a laugh to escape him.
His eyes twinkle in the dim light. “Whatever you want to believe.”
“Why your band's t-shirt?”
“Not a fan?” He pretends to pout, but I can sense a little vulnerability; like this answer matters to him. It doesn’t mean I can’t make him sweat a little.
“You’re alright.”
“Just alright? Please, I bet you’ve got a poster of me up on your bedroom wall.”
“Nah, wouldn’t want to scare any potential suitors off displaying bad taste.”
He gasps, putting his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Wife. How dare you elude going to bed with other men.”
I try to kick him again but he dodges. “I bet your playlists are just yourself on repeat.”
“Nothing wrong with self love. What’s on your playlist?”
My eyebrows raise at the change in subject, a weird twist in my chest, as I wish I had my phone to put on my comfort music. They're all my Mum’s favourite, all from CD’s and records I kept after she died, all sitting in a little nook of my apartment.
“I really love Fleetwood Mac. They remind me of my Mum. Anything vintage and rock. She had really good taste.”
His smile is achingly warm, and I feel more relaxed in his clear approval. “Do you listen to them alot?”
“Yeah. If I ever make a new playlist, I always end up adding her favourites in there without thinking. She used to sing Rhiannon so loud out of the car window, even when she’d pick me and Phin up from school.
I swear I can remember it.” I look down smiling at the fond memory that I haven’t been blessed with in a long time.
“I can very much appreciate that. I got to see this sister indie-folk band at a festival we played this spring, they were so awesome. River–he’s our bassist–had to drag me back to our set. I nearly missed our time slot. You'd really like them.”
I love it more than I’m ready to analyse, when he gives me these pieces of himself. It’s the perfect distraction I didn’t know I needed right now. “What music do you like? Or is your ego too big to allow other bands in?” I flick at the Larks t-shirt on my body.
“I’ll have you know, that t-shirt is for Phin because he likes to keep updated with the merch. So you’ll have to explain why you’ve stolen it.” He then tells me about all the heavier music he listens to, before dropping the biggest surprise of all.
My mouth hangs open. “You’re a Swifty?”
“Hell yeah! It’s a hard tie between Midnights and Folklore.”
Sitting back on my hands, I just blink at him, revelling. I’m secretly thrilled because both albums are also my joint favourites.
“Stop looking at me with those gorgeous judgy eyes.”
I roll said eyes and fail to hide my smile at the compliment.
Was it crazy leaning on him for support after only meeting a day ago?
Maybe? But weirder things had happened, like those couples on that catfishing show that even after they're exposed, it turns out they were soul mates all along.
If they could go with the flow, so could I.
I also should stop watching trash television.
Refusing to tell him about my devotion to being a fellow Swifty, it’s probably time to end the distractions and find out what is going on. Nothing is going to put my unsettled stomach at bay until I know what happened with the detectives.
“Can I ask why you’re curled at the end of my bed?” I fiddle with the bedding.
“I wanted to make sure you were ok because I didn’t see you after they spoke to you. When I came up, it didn’t feel right leaving.”
“I’m a big girl you know.” I knock his knee with my foot through the duvet and give him a pointed look, receiving one in return.
“Roo, you didn’t even lock your door. After they spoke to a couple more of us and left, I came straight up here and must've fallen asleep.”
“What did they ask you?”
Wren doesn’t respond, in fact he straightens, which causes me to also sit up and match his posture. I can tell something is wrong in the way he sighs and moves closer. I'm too on edge to lean into him for comfort, so I flop back onto my pillows and exhale.
“They asked a lot of questions about last night and why my knuckles were bruised. But then…They asked me a lot of questions about you.”
“Me? Why? What questions?” I’m immediately flustered, because I get why they'd enquire over the altercation last night, but me?
“They wanted to know about your relationship with him. How you felt about being here, and Aya. They kept circling back to whether I saw you with him at any point last night or this morning.”
“That’s ridiculous.” The obscenity of it nearly makes me actually laugh.
It’s bitter and in disbelief, causing him to look at me with pity.
I don’t like seeing the expression so I sit up, thankful that the t-shirt covers me to mid-thigh because the duvet falls away from my lap.
I clear my throat and my thoughts. “Why would they ask you about my past relationship with him, when we’ve only just met?
They didn't even ask me to explain further on anything other than the basics of when I last saw him, and why we broke up.” Of course they were going to poke at Corbin being in my room last night, but the punch to the face seemed more like a small altercation than a fight.
The two hadn’t tumbled through the corridor throwing fists after all.
Wren slowly throws both his legs over the side of the bed, putting us side by side. “Roo, when I spoke to some of the others, the detectives asked them the same questions. He seemed to focus mainly on you.”
I couldn’t be their first suspect, could I?
“But, I wouldn’t ever do anything like that to anyone.” I can barely get my words out.
“Don’t for a second think I don’t know that,” He says, taking my small hands between his bigger tattooed palms. “None of us think that.”
“Is everyone still up?” I ask, staring down at where our hands meet and feel those tingles of electricity warming up my numb body.
“Yeah, Phin is still asleep and Merle made some dinner. Maggie hadn't gotten to work yet, so she's not allowed back on the property.”
With a reluctant huff, I swing my legs from the bed, using my Bambi-like grace to rummage for a pair of flannel trousers in my suitcase, still spilled across the floor.
I also unfold a pair of fluffy bed socks and start to pat around the bed for my phone, momentarily forgetting we still don’t have them back.
“We really need to get our phones back.” I mumble and his silence has me worried, so I look up, pausing to put on my socks.
“Yeah that's not going to happen.”
“Why?”
His expression is grim. “The detectives asked for them, but it turns out they’ve gone missing.”
What the actual fuck?
I’M keenly aware I still haven’t checked my appearance in a mirror and a very hot, delicious man just happens to be following my every fumbling step down the staircase.
Pretty sure he's used to underwear models. Infact there are photos of him online with every woman he’s ever been in contact with—a daunting thought.
I bet none of them would run around with a bird's nest for hair, swamped in an oversized t-shirt. I don’t even have a bra on, but I desperately needed to see familiar faces to know everything will be ok.
Conversation pricks my ears from the kitchen before I skid through the entrance, my bed socks slide me a little too far forward. A solid wall of man connects with my face and the annoyed grunt alerts me to who it is.
“Are you feeling better sweetheart?” Merle asks from behind Cardinal, his broad shoulders blocking him from view. Placing a mug in the sink, he moves out of my path and leans a hip against the island. Nodding at my t-shirt, his frown deepens if that's even possible. “Big fan, Drew?”
“That nickname is so dumb.” I say crossing my arms, hoping he was just looking at the t-shirt and not my nipples saying hello. I mean, I won’t assume anyone's sexuality, but I’ve caught him staring at Willow every chance he gets.
“Whatever,” Cardinal shrugs. “Has he told you about the phone situation?”
I nod, allowing Merle to wrap me up in a warm hug.
I nuzzle into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, the faint scent of Phin lingering on it.
“I’m better after a little sleep, thank you.
Phin ok? What did the detectives say about our phones?
” I ask, wanting to unload every thought fogging my mind.
Wren’s large palm rubs circles on my lower back, trying to ease the obvious anxiety pouring out of me.
“At first we thought Lily just misplaced them and in her state, couldn’t really think clearly on where she’d last seen them.
But we’ve looked everywhere. No phones. They’re not in my office, her room or in the main office.
” He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“The detectives have said to keep looking for them and we're all to stay here tonight. They’ll be back tomorrow for more questioning and they’ll assess if we can leave.
They’ve taken our work computer, Corbin’s laptop and the landline for some reason–not like it works out here. ”