Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Hugo
“Why are we sitting outside when there’s snow in the forecast?”
Quinn’s glare bounces right off me when Cosmo picks that moment to jump in my lap.
I gesture down at him. “It makes my dog happy.”
She rolls her eyes. “I bet if the princess next door was with us, we’d be inside where there’s heat.”
I now gesture at the top-of-the-line backyard firepit we’re gathered around while our Thanksgiving dinner digests.
“Offer still stands.” Pell grins at her from across the flames as he pats his lap. “Shared body heat saves lives.”
Her response is such a dead-eyed, icy stare that even our friendly resident sociopath shivers, drops his gaze, and reaches for the drink he’s been nursing since the three of us wandered outside.
“Remind me why he’s here?” Quinn’s asking me, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Pell.
“Because he wanted to be, I guess.”
I didn’t tell him we’d be doing dinner, and Quinn would never. So it was either the calendar on my laptop, my pickup grocery order, or the fact that Quinn and I have done Thanksgiving together ever since her grandmother died eight years ago.
But he arrived with a casserole dish of Mama Pell’s stuffing in one hand and a sack full of beverages in the other, so I let him in, because what else is there. And now he’s followed us to the firepit.
“Why did you bring this?” Quinn scowls at her Cheerwine bottle.
“Because it’s the best soda in the South,” Pell says. “And because you’re runnin’ low. Down to the two in the back of your work fridge, behind the reagent samples.”
He lifts his glass in a toast.
She holds his gaze, extends her arm, and pours the contents of her bottle into the dead grass next to her chair.
“The only one you’re hurtin’ is yourself,” he says placidly. “And sorry, but the bourbon’s only for me and the doc.”
“I’m a doctor too,” she mutters.
“Yes, Dr. Brady.” He grins. “I was there when you got hooded. You looked real cute.”
“You’re insufferable,” she spits out. “We only met four years ago.”
“Okay.” He shrugs, and I change the subject to the only thing on my mind these days.
“This Thanksgiving,” I say, lifting my glass in my own toast, “I’m thankful to you, Pell, for the total destruction of my life.”
Cosmo chooses that moment to hop off my lap so he can patrol the perimeter of the yard, leaving me missing his warmth. Pell wasn’t wrong about body heat.
The man himself turns as serious as he’s been since he showed up today.
“You should be.” He drains the rest of his drink and sets his glass aside. “I gave you a chance at a relationship built on honesty, understanding, and what I assume is violent and deeply fulfilling sex.”
“Don’t mention Rue and sex in the same breath,” I tell him quietly.
He lifts his browns, then inclines his head a fraction of an inch as he reaches into the pocket of his hoodie to produce the world’s oldest baseball.
“I’m just saying, you’ve gotta have boundaries when you’re stalking the woman you love.” He tosses the ball from hand to hand as he talks, his fingers moving nimbly across the grimy surface. “Hell, I’ve got Quinn wired to the ears, but I respect her too much to go peepin’ into her boudoir.”
“Quit it,” she snaps. “And while you’re at it, quit talking like the hillbilly I know you’re not.”
“Quit what, now?” he asks. “Loving you, stalking you, or talking like the nice southern boy I am?”
“Quit lying,” she says flatly. “I know how to spot your cameras. There are three on the street in front of Hugo’s duplex and one in the backyard.”
He fiddles with the ball one-handed now. “Maybe.”
“But there’s not a single one at my place, inside or out.”
He shifts the ball so the seams are facing in. “Well then. You must be right on all counts.”
Quinn frowns at his easy agreement. “Well, th-that’s… that’s good,” she sputters. “Thank you.”
A smile lifts one corner of his mouth. The seams are facing out now. “Aww, you sound mad about it, Quinnie.” He flips the ball into the air and catches it with his left hand.
“Hugo.” She turns to me. “Will you please grab that filthy thing so I can beat him to death with it?”
Pell gasps and clutches the ball to his chest. “You’d kill me with my own weapon?”
“That’s not a wea… Gah!” She shrieks in frustration and stands. “I’m getting more pie.”
Pell perks up. “There’s more pie?” He stands too, pocketing the ball and wandering into the house after her.
Before the back door shuts behind them, Pell asks something I don’t catch, and Quinn replies with a hearty, “Go fuck yourself.” Then it’s just me and Cosmo alone in the now-quiet yard.
I whistle for him, but there’s no answering jingle of his collar.
“Cosmo!” I call. But again, no jingle, no bark, and no dog.
I stand, concerned.
“Cosmo!” I call again, adding the whistle for good measure. I need to install more lights back here. Not only can I apparently misplace my dog, but there are too many spots where someone could lie in wait to—
“Looking for this?”
I give a short, high shriek and spin to see Rue standing a few feet away, holding my unapologetic dog.
No, not Rue.
“Hello, Felicity,” I say.
She gives me an impressed look. “Took you less time than our first meeting.”
“I’m onto you now.”
I did my research. Legit, public records-based research. School records, newspaper clippings, real estate transactions. All very respectful of boundaries.
But even if I never learned about the Alsop twins, even if I thought the sweet face in front of me was the only one of its kind in the universe, I’d still know it wasn’t Rue.
Everything about Felicity is a little softer than her sister: her hair in a loose bun, her mouth in a relaxed pout, her posture less watchful and ready.
This beautiful woman may be a match to my neighbor down to her cellular level, but she isn’t mine.
“Your dog wandered into my sister’s yard,” Felicity tells me. “He found a gap in the fence.”
“Smart boy,” I say. “Thanks for returning him.”
She hands him over, then steps back to eyeball me.
“I told her there was a hot guy under all of that Dr. Bore nonsense.” She says it like she’s annoyed that I’m in jeans and a regular V-neck sweater, but all I care about is the opening she just gave me.
“How is she?” I practically trip over myself to ask. “Is she sleeping all right? When she’s restless, she sometimes comes downstairs for a snack.” On reflex, my fingers twitch toward the phone in my pocket so I can check if she’s smiling or crying. “But I don’t know if she’s running low on…”
The scorn on Felicity’s face shuts me up.
“Forgot your cameras are gone, didn’t you?” She stomps forward to snatch Cosmo from my arms. “I can’t believe she won’t let me kill you.”
“You want to kill me?” I shake my head because does not compute. “For wanting to make sure she’s okay?”
“No.” She looks at me like I’m the stupidest man in the world. “I want to kill you for what you did to her.”
Out of habit, my hand lifts to fiddle with my glasses, but I’m not wearing them tonight since it’s just me, Quinn, and Pell. “I care about her.”
Care about her. Would kill or die for her. Same thing.
“Greg probably would’ve said he cared about her too.” Felicity shrugs, thoroughly unimpressed by me. “We’ll never know, though. Rue already took care of him.”
Ah. Now I see her sister in her. Steel in her voice and winter in her eyes.
“It’s not the same,” I growl. “What he did to her is completely fucking different, and I wish I’d been the one to kill him for her.”
Felicity’s brows lift. “Wow. You really don’t get it, do you?”
Instead of elaborating, she turns to leave. I reach for her to ask what she means, but my hand barely makes contact before she drops her shoulder and rotates to face me, stepping clear of my reach. It all happens a quarter second faster than I expected, and she’s as composed as ever.
“Apparently this is going to be a longer conversation.” She sighs and sets down a wiggling Cosmo. “Come on.”
She jerks her head toward the chairs around the firepit, but I hesitate when we’re close enough to feel the flames.
“Shit,” I mutter. “Is this okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not scared of a little fire, Dr. Huge-o Bore. Rue and I are both tougher than that.”
She proves it by taking the chair closest to the gas-powered unit. I take the chair next to her, and once I’m settled, she turns to study my face, like she’s deciding what to say next based on what she sees there.
“Tell me: how are you and Greg not the same?”
I growl at the mention of his name, and she holds up her hands.
“Geez, take it down a notch.”
I keep a tight hand on my temper and say evenly, “I didn’t film her having sex without her knowledge and then put it online for the internet’s worst men to see.”
“True. Good job not being a total monster.” She tilts her head, flames reflected in her glasses. “Remind me, how many cameras were in her half of the duplex the day she moved in?”
My jaw works.
“Three.”
“And how many the day she ran out?”
I don’t answer.
“Say it. How many?”
“…thirteen.”
She widens her eyes. “Gosh, math isn’t my strong suit. If you started with three and ended with thirteen, how many did you install while she was living next door to you?”
“You’re a data analyst who went to Stanford and graduated summa cum laude. You tell me.”
“Okay, we’re definitely circling back to that.” She leans forward in her chair, her unflinching gaze fixed on me. “The number, Hugo. How many did you buy and install with your own hands when she wasn’t home?”
“Ten,” I say, my lips barely moving. Then, “Thirteen. I upgraded the original three.”
No point in hiding it.
“That’s a lot of cameras for safety purposes,” she says thoughtfully. “Some might argue too many. Like maybe thirteen too many.”
I may not have been able to defend the numbers, but I sure as fuck can defend myself against the sarcasm.
“Yes, safety. She never let me explain all the things I did for her.”
Felicity makes a “carry on” gesture, and since Rue’s not here, I’ll have to treat her twin as her proxy.