Page 98 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
I don’t think the others care about Poppy’s death or the deaths that came next. Not like I do. It was supposed to be me all along, and the more people I got involved—professors, investigators, everyone other than my friends—the more wrenches were thrown in my plans.
Now, we’reso close. Thanks to Caldwell’s vision, we know who to find, and I know exactly where to find her.
But before that, we rest.
Margaux shows us to our rooms and shuts herself away. A grave energy surrounds her as she goes. The music that plays from the room—soft goth tracks I only know because of Margaux—is a sign she wishes to be left alone. She has a lot to contemplate. We all do.
Caldwell and I stand in the doorways of our opposing rooms with our eyes locked.
Seeing him still makes my pulse jump, and I don’t know if it’s fear or desire. I can’t differentiate the two, and I’m not sure I want to. I grip the wood of the doorway, breathing in slowly to keep my calm.
“Get as much rest as you can,” he says. “Tomorrow is the day this all ends.”
“I don’t want the morning to come.” The words slip past my lips, and I blush.
I may be the only one afraid of what comes next. Caldwell has magic, Margaux has fangs, and I…
Well, I’m motivated by spite. I have nothing else.
“It will come whether you want it to or not,” he says, stepping closer.
Up close, I can see he’s the Caldwell I got to know so well. His eyes are still warm and wise. His body is still lean and limber and…
I want to trust him again.
“Thatishow days work,” I say, with a hint of laughter in my voice.
“All I ask is that you don’t stay up too late. We need you there.”
They do. I may not have strength or magic, but I know why they need me, and I can’t argue. I need to be there to make sure Poppy can finally rest… or at least, that I can get her out of my head.
“What if…” I tuck my hair behind my ear, nervously looking away. “What if I don’t want to be alone tonight?”
“You’ll have to ask me to stay,” he says.
“What?” I turn my attention back to him. “I thought you weren’t a vampire. Do you still need an invitation?”
“I do,” he says. “It’s more about manners than vampirism. Your friend is in the other room if you would prefer to spend the night with her. I won’t assume you want my company.”
I swallow, my throat dry, scratching on the way down.
“I want to spend the night with you.” The words are so quiet I worry he won’t hear.
He does, head ducked down, close enough for me to see the shift of color in his eyes.
“If you’re sure,” he says, “I would be happy to keep you company until you’re ready to sleep.”
My heart jumps in my chest.
“How?” I ask. “How can you still look at me like that after everything I’ve done to hurt you? How can you want to spendthe night with me?”
“Because you’re stillyou.”
I shake my head.
“I liked you from the start,” he says, “not someone else. From the beginning, you were full of suspicion and completely incapable of trusting.”
“That doesn’t sound like someone you should like.”
