Page 20 of Fluffed and Folded

Darby whistled. “Bro,” she said, and Eli laughed so unexpectedly that he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from spewing his water.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked when he had himself back under control.

“No, yes, maybe, I don’t know.” She sighed. “I don’t really interact with other humans much, sorry. I guess that was pretty obvious when I came to you, a stranger, for help.”

Eli twisted the cap on his water bottle, thinking. Did Darby ever go out? She might, during the day when he was at work, but he’d never seen her come or go in the evenings, had never noticed any other cars in her parking spot. Did she not have any family or friends? Was she really so alone? Suddenly he felt guilty for castigating her as one of the pretty people. In high school those girls had traveled in packs for safety and strength. No one so alone could be part of that group.

“You can talk to me,” he said. “I promise I’ll keep it secret.”

“I’ve never had a friend who was a man,” Darby said.

She swallowed hard. Another tendril of her lustrous hair burst free and cradled her perfect face, cupping it pleasantly. She was so very pretty that it would be easy to fall into the temptation of fixating on her beauty, of making that the sum ofher entire personality. How she herself hadn’t fallen into that trap was a mystery. Whatever the reason, Eli’s concern for her worked to tamp down any normal reaction to her. Instead of seeing her as a beautiful woman who was out of his league, he saw her as the literal girl next door, desperately in need of help and support. That, more than anything, threw a bucket of cold water on any desire.

Their phones chimed with a text at the same time. “It’s Tristan,” Darby said, staring at hers. “He must have texted us both.”

Eli read his silently.Here is the name of a company that cleans biohazards from apartments. Call them as soon as the police clear the room and let me know when it’s done. I’m moving in.

“Oh,” Darby gasped. “Can he do that?”

“It’s your building,” Eli replied.

“Don’t you think it will bother him to live where someone was killed?”

Eli sputtered a laugh. “No. I don’t think it would bother him, even if he was the person who killed him. Tristan only has feelings about one thing, and her name is Josie.”

“What about you?” Darby asked.

Eli felt called out and on the spot and froze accordingly. “I mean, I did have feelings for Josie, briefly, but I realized pretty quickly it wasn’t going to work. It didn’t affect our friendship, and I like Tristan for her. They’re good together.”

Darby’s lips twisted with wry amusement. “Good to know. What I meant, though, was whether or not it bothers you to continue to live here. In close proximity to a man who was murdered, to have coffee with the woman who might have killed him.” All traces of amusement slipped from her face and she shuddered.

“Hey, I don’t believe you killed him, not for a minute.”

“No?” she said, brows raised with such a hopefully vulnerable smile that he gave her a soft smile in return.

“No, it’s not possible. And I don’t think Tristan thinks that, either. He’s being thorough and the best way to do that is to be close by, to immerse himself in your life. Clearly something is going on with you that is troubling.”

“As long as I didn’t hurt anyone, I don’t care,” Darby exclaimed.

Eli studied her, not certain how to break it to her and burst her bubble. “Darby, it’s possible you were there and didn’t kill him. It’s also possible you saw who did.”

She stared at him, her mouth a little pucker of surprise. “Are you saying I might be in danger?”

“I’m saying I don’t know, but it’s a good idea for all of us to be wary. And it’s a really good idea for Tristan to be here.”

“Oh.” Her hands shook. She sat on them and glanced away, toward his cabinets.

Eli’s heart wrenched for her, so alone and helpless. “Hey,” he said, placing his palm on the table between them. “This is a lot. Tristan is good at the investigating and protecting, but he’s not so much on the talking it out and emotional healing stuff. I’m pretty good at that, if I do say so myself. I know,” he paused and made a swirling motion with his hand, encompassing her face. “Guys probably tend to hit on you, and it’s probably an annoying problem to have. But I promise you that’s not what this is, and I don’t have any interest in making it that. I’m offering to be a friend, that’s all. No strings, no creepy intentions. My door is open, if you need anything.”

Darby swallowed hard, thinking. She looked petrified, but also determined. “Thank you. I hear you, and I appreciate what you’re saying. I’m not normally one of those women who needs a lot of people, or any people. I tend to keep things to myself and deal. But it might be nice to have a sounding board for somethings.” She peeped a shy glance at him and he gave her an encouraging nod. Darby felt like a wild mouse he was attempting to tame with sunflower seeds. Too much and she would skitter back to her hiding place.

She let out a little breath and eased the tense set of her shoulders slightly. “I should get home. Thanks for this, for everything. I’m sorry it’s been so much.”

He didn’t want to say it was nothing, because to her it was. But it made him sad that she seemed to inhabit a world where seeking help for something as monumental as murder still seemed like too much of an ask. So he deferred to his old friend, humor. “You saved me from a full day of balancing my checkbook.”

“It takes you a day to do that?” she said.

“I’m very slow, Darby. Don’t make fun.”

---