Chapter 14
LIZA
The following morning has a different taste to it.
Softer, maybe.
Or maybe that's just Cassian.
I wake with the weight of his arm draped over my waist, heavy and warm beneath the blankets. His breathing brushes the back of my neck. Somewhere during the night, he'd pulled me against him, and neither of us had bothered to move.
For one quiet minute, I stay exactly where I am.
The apartment is still and the mystery is still unsolved. The world is still ridiculous. But for once, none of it feels urgent.
Eventually, delivery trucks begin their usual campaign against peace and quiet.
I ease onto my back.
Cassian's eyes are already open.
I narrow mine.
"Were you watching me sleep?"
"No."
"That was too fast."
A corner of his mouth curves into an almost smile.
"You drooled on my arm."
I gasp."I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I'd like a second opinion."
"Unfortunately, I'm the victim and there were no other witnesses to refute my testimony.
I swat his shoulder and he catches my wrist.
The movement is automatic. So is the way neither of us lets go immediately.
My pulse skips.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.
Then returns to my eyes.
Dangerous. Very dangerous.
"You keep looking at me like that," I say.
"Like what?"
"Like you're trying to memorize me."
For the first time all morning, he looks away. Which tells me everything I need to know.
A ridiculous amount of satisfaction blooms in my chest.
"Ha."
"Don't start."
"Too late."
He groans.
I grin.
Victory.
Cassian eventually sits up and rubs a hand across his face.
The sheets slide lower and I make the mistake of looking.
A defined chest. Broad shoulders. The sort of physique that should probably require a permit. My train of thought derails completely.
"Something wrong?"
I jerk my eyes upward. "Nope."
His smile widens. The jerk.
A few minutes later, I'm halfway to the bathroom when his phone starts vibrating.
He ignores it.
Which immediately makes me suspicious.
I grab it off the nightstand.
"Do not answer that."
Too late.
"Hello?" I say brightly. "You've reached Officer Wolfridge and—"
Cassian lunges. I dodge.
A familiar voice crackles through the speaker. "So it's true."
Alaric. Of course.
"You moved in with Liza."
Cassian snatches the phone from my hand and hangs up.
I dissolve into laughter. "He sounds devastated."
"He'll survive."
My grin widens. "He definitely thinks we're living together."
Cassian closes his eyes.
The silence is answer enough.
"Oh my God."
"Don't."
"Oh my God."
"Liza."
I laugh harder.
By the time we make it to the kitchen, my stomach hurts. Breakfast is a surprisingly intimate thing. Not because we're doing anything romantic. Because we're not. That's the problem.
Cassian leans against the counter while I make pancakes, and I catch him watching me.
Repeatedly.
Every time I look up, he pretends to be interested in something else.
The coffee maker.
The refrigerator.
The weather.
One time he stares directly at a cabinet for ten full seconds.
"Cassian."
"What?"
"You know cabinets don't get prettier if you keep looking at them."
His ears redden. A little.
The sight nearly kills me.
"You're impossible."
"I'm delightful."
He mutters something under his breath.
I'm ninety percent sure it wasn't an insult.
When breakfast is finally ready, we sit across from each other.
I drown my pancakes in syrup. Cassian watches in horror.
"That's too much syrup."
"That's quitter talk."
"You're going to put yourself into a coma."
"I'm willing to take that risk."
His smile appears again.
Slow. Unwilling. Beautiful.
For a second, I forget what I was saying. Actually, I forget most things. Including my own name. The realization is deeply annoying. And embarrassingly exciting. Fortunately, my phone rings and I’m saved by municipal bureaucracy.
I glance at the screen.
Zadok. Naturally.
"Good morning, sunshine," he says immediately. "Quick question. Did you steal Alaric's best friend?"
I nearly choke.
Across the table, Cassian closes his eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Lies."
"Zadok.”
“He filed a verbal complaint.”
I stare. “He what?”
"He says you're monopolizing the Chief."
I look at Cassian.
Cassian looks at his coffee. The coward.
"Tell Alaric to get a hobby."
"I did. He says you are his hobby."
I hang up. Immediately.
Cassian's shoulders start shaking.
He's laughing. Actually laughing. The sight is unfairly attractive.
"Don't encourage him."
"I'm not."
"Liar."
His eyes meet mine. The smile fades. Not completely, but just enough.
The air shifts.
For one suspended second, it feels like we're the only two people in Blackthorn Bay.
Then the coffee maker beeps and the spell breaks.
Unfortunately.
A couple of hours later, Cassian helps me gather the Whitmore files. Most of the morning disappears in teasing, coffee, and entirely unproductive attempts to concentrate. Eventually, reality wins.
Cassian grabs his jacket. "I need to stop by the station."
I nod. Trying to look casual.
Failing spectacularly.
"I'll survive."
"I know."
The words are simple. The look isn't.
He steps closer. Close enough that I can smell soap and cedar.
Close enough that my heart immediately forgets how to behave.
"I'll pick you up after work."
Not a question.
Something warm unfolds in my chest.
"Good."
His hand covers mine. Just for a second. Long enough to mean something. Long enough to make me want more.
"Don't get in trouble."
I rise onto my toes and kiss his cheek. "No promises."
His laugh follows me all the way to the door.
As soon as Cassian leaves, the apartment loses half its gravity. It's ridiculous. He's been gone less than thirty seconds and I still find myself staring at the closed door.
"Pathetic," I tell myself.
Gomez blinks from the couch. Judgmental little bastard.
I spend the next hour trying to work. Trying being the operative word. The Whitmore files are spread across my dining table, but every few minutes my attention drifts.
To the empty coffee mug in the sink.
To the faint scent of cedar lingering in the apartment.
To the fact that someone now says things like:
Don't get in trouble.
And means them.
A text arrives.
Cassian: You working?
I smile immediately.
Annoying.
Me: Pretending to.
Cassian: Good.
Me: That's all?
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Reappear.
Cassian: Miss you too.
Heat floods my face. The absolute menace.
I stare at the message for a full minute before tossing my phone onto the couch. Gomez immediately sits on it.
Traitor.
A few minutes later, Marlena appears in the hallway outside my apartment. One look at my face and she narrows her eyes.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
She folds her arms.
I crack in under ten seconds.
Marlena's delighted cackle follows me all the way to Town Hall.
Thankfully, the Whitmore meeting is shorter than expected.
Miss Nettles reviews the documents while I summarize everything we've found so far.
The photograph.
The engagement announcement.
Emily St. James.
The missing records.
The mystery somehow feels sadder now.
Less like a haunting. More like a wound that never healed.
"Anything new?" Miss Nettles asks.
I hesitate. Then slide the latest photograph across the table.
The room falls silent. Emily stands in a garden.
Young.
Happy.
Frozen forever inside a moment neither of them knew would matter.
Miss Nettles studies it carefully.
Then sighs. "Someone wanted her remembered."
The words settle heavily in my chest. Because I think she's right. Not revenge. Not anger. Memory.
The meeting wraps up shortly after that.
No breakthroughs or revelations.
Just one more piece of a puzzle that still refuses to come together.
When I leave Town Hall, the sky is finally clear.
The sunlight spills across downtown in bright gold ribbons.
For once, Blackthorn Bay looks almost normal.
I make it halfway home before my phone buzzes.
Cassian: Outside.
My pulse immediately picks up. I hate how easily he does it.
When I reach the apartment building, his truck is waiting at the curb.
I climb inside.
He glances over and his expression softens immediately. Like it always does now. The realization still catches me off guard.
"How'd it go?"
I shrug. "Still a mystery."
His hand finds my knee.
Casual. Possessive. Comforting.
Every nerve ending in my body immediately notices.
"Hey."
I blink. "What?"
"You've been staring out the window for three blocks."
Heat floods my face. "I've had a long day."
His thumb brushes my knee. Once. Slow. My brain completely abandons its post.
The smug wolf knows exactly what he's doing.
Back at the apartment, the files remain untouched.
Mostly because neither of us seems particularly interested in them anymore.
We start with good intentions. We really do.
Ten minutes later, we're sitting side by side on the couch pretending to discuss Theodore Whitmore.
"Maybe she left."
"Maybe."
"Maybe he left."
"Maybe."
A pause.
Neither of us is paying attention. At all.
Finally, I close the folder.
Cassian doesn't even pretend to object.
"Productive," I say.
"Extremely."
The corner of his mouth lifts. I should probably move. Instead, I stay exactly where I am. Close enough that our legs touch. Close enough that I can feel his warmth.
The silence settles around us.
Comfortable.
Dangerous.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.
Then returns to my eyes.
My heart immediately forgets its job.
"Cassian."
His voice is rough. "Yeah?"
I should say something intelligent. Something meaningful.
Instead:
"You keep looking at me like that."
A slow smile appears. "Like what?"
I narrow my eyes. "You know exactly what."
"Maybe."
The man is impossible. And entirely too attractive.
I don't realize I've leaned closer until his hand settles against my waist.
The room suddenly feels very small. Very warm. His gaze searches mine. Giving me every opportunity to back away.
But I don't. Not even a little.
The kiss starts slow. It never stays that way.
His hand slides into my hair.
Mine catches in the front of his shirt.
The world narrows.
No ghosts.
No mysteries.
No century-old heartbreak.
Just Cassian.
When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing a little harder.
Neither of us moves very far.
His forehead rests against mine.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
Then:
"I'm trying very hard to be patient."
The words send heat rushing straight to my face.
I laugh softly.
"Is it working?"
His eyes close.
A rough laugh escapes him.
"Not even a little."
My stomach flips.
Dangerous. Very dangerous.
And judging by the look in his eyes?
We're both thinking the same thing.
Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow.
But soon. Very soon.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it makes me smile.
A soft knock echoes from somewhere inside the apartment.
Both of us freeze.
I groan.
Cassian drops his forehead against my shoulder.
"Please tell me that's not another ghost."
A second knock follows. Then a cabinet door quietly swings open in the kitchen. And closes again.
We stare.
I bite my lip.
Cassian sighs. "Teddy has terrible timing."
My laugh fills the apartment.
And somehow, that feels exactly right.