Page 66 of Shattered Veil

“Very creative,” I cooed. “I would have paid to see that.”

Her smile grew and then faded, and she muttered, “What the hell am I supposed to tell her?”

I shrugged. “We know a dude who thinks Gas Lamp could be shady, but we have no idea about that for sure, so just be alert?”

“And then she asks, ‘Shady? How shady? How do you know? Who is this guy? How can you trust him? Shouldn’t we just tell the police?’” The last question was one that particularly struck me because speaking with the police when the concerns regarding Gas Lamp were interconnected with Colton seemed to be a poor choice. With him being missing and having just helped us remove potential murder evidence, I truthfully didn’t want to be anywhere near the police. Cassie looked to share the same sentiment, and she murmured, “Sky’s more of a go-with-the-flow type of girl, but…no way she wouldn’t question that. And I—I don’t think we should be answering questions right now.”

“Yeah, me either,” I returned in an exhale. “Well…you’ve got the night to mull it over, at least?”

Cassie nodded, paused for a moment, and then asked quietly, “Are you staying?”

I knew that question was coming, but it still caused my heart to flinch in my chest. I reveled in it, for it was yet another obvious reminder that things had shifted between us. It wasn’t a dismissive, ‘Okay, you can go home, now,’ or, ‘Made it home, Jay. I’ll lock up behind you. See ya later.’ It was neither an invitation nor a demand. It was asking what I wanted despite the fact that I knew. I knew that she knew that I wasn’t intending on leaving her home—and that sentence comforted me more than anything because if she didn’t want me here, she would have sent me packing the moment that she saw my face.

She wanted me here—welcomed me here—and that meant far more to me than any touch of our lips or brazen wandering of our hands.

“Yes,” I replied.

“’Kay.” Cassie smiled softly. “I was gonna head back out and do it myself, but, um…do you mind locking up for me? Tell Sky I’ll just see her in the morning. I don’t really think she’s up for socializing right now, anyway.”

“Since it’s past three in the morning?” I questioned lightly.

Her smile grew. “Yuh huh.”

“I’ll lock up,” I confirmed. “Be back.”

I was up and ambling to go about the task at hand by the time she quietly called out, “Thank you,” and I casually waved it away without a look back.

Skylar’s head peeked over the couch when I exited the hallway, her expression pinching together as she remarked:

“I feel like I’m interrupting something. Am I interrupting something? I’m like five minutes away from calling an Uber.”

“Call an Uber to bring you back to your apartment with the flooded bathroom that Cas just told me about?” I quipped. “Don’t be silly.” I moved past where she sat cross-legged on the center cushion, noting to myself that she had yet to grab the blanket that Cassie had mentioned. “And no—you’re not interrupting anything. Cas didn’t even know I was here.”

“No?” Skylar questioned. “She mentioned you.”

The butterfly infestation in my gut grew.

I kept my focus on the front door, locking it and then grabbing the chair to its right, similar to how Cassie had when I was here previously.

“Did she?”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “Something about how you’ve been around, erm…what are you doing?”

I shoved the back of the chair beneath the knob, ensured it was jammed tightly into place, and offhandedly said, “Oh, the lock on this door’s shit—a good, strong breeze’ll blow it open.”

It was a terrible lie considering that one of the locks was a deadbolt, and she should have questioned it much like Cassie had anticipated with the mention of anything awry with Gas Lamp, but she did nothing of the sort. I turned to see Skylar nodding with what seemed to be an appreciative grin. There was no concern. No silent interrogation. Not a trace of unease in her light eyes…and the descriptor gullible came to mind. Nice, timid, and gullible—and though I had only met her minutes ago, I could thoroughly see why Cassie was wanting to protect her. Skylar covered her mouth as she yawned, and I took it as my cue to announce:

“Ah, I can get out of your hair…Cas is going to bed, too, I think.” I pointed at her. “You like pancakes?”

She shrugged. “I have nothing against them.”

“When we’re all up,” I stated. “Pancakes. I’ll cook. Don’t let Cas cook for you. Her pancakes are shit.”

Skylar laughed. “Sounds good. Night.”

I threw her a wave. “Night.”

I returned to the hallway, willing the absolute horde of butterflies in my stomach to abate, and told myself that this wasn’t a big deal. I was casual. Casual and walking into Cassie’s bedroom, where I was intending to sleep for the second time. Everything was fine—and it needed to be. I needed to keep whatever wits I had about me lest Cassie’s defensive walls snapped back up, and the trust that she had seemingly placed in me came crashing down.

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