Page 43 of Detectives in Love
I blink. I’ve landed in that spindly bush—nothing but dry branches.
“Newt!” Xavier is at my side in an instant.
I groan, the world spinning. “Fuck…”
Shouts echo from the roof—angry, panicked.
“Are you okay?” Xavier slaps my cheeks lightly, trying to bring me back. Everything’s a blur. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through the pain. I’m alive—that’s the main thing. And, I think, mostly unhurt. I shift a little, testing my limbs.
“Ugh…” I mutter, starting to sit up.
“Newt, don’t—don’t get up. I’ll call an ambulance,” Xavier says, his face too pale, too close. I shake my head.
“I think I’m fine. The bush broke my fall.”
I sit up, listening to my body—and yeah, I think I’m really okay. Xavier’s still kneeling beside me, his brow tight with something that looks a lot like panic. His hands find my face again, fingers cold as they brush my cheeks. The gesture is weirdly gentle, and despite everything, the butterflies in my stomach kick off their usual macarena routine.
“I think we need to run,” I say, nodding toward the roof. “The guards are gone. But they’ll be down here soon.”
That doesn’t seem to faze Xavier. Instead, he says, “Can you stand, or should I carry you?”
“I can stand,” I say, and with his help, I get to my feet—though my legs are a little shaky. Probably just the adrenaline.
Before I can argue, Xavier pulls my arm over his shoulder, wrapping his own around my waist like it’s not even a question.
“Come on,” he says, and we move quickly toward the highway.
Every step sends a fresh jolt of pain through my skull, but otherwise, I’m surprisingly okay. Xavier keeps glancing over, probably checking that I’m not about to faceplant.
“I’m okay,” I say, forcing a small smile.
He doesn’t answer—just keeps going.
We slip through the quiet streets, our hurried footsteps the only sound. I glance back a few times, half-expecting the guards to come after us, but there’s no sign of them. At the intersection, our taxi’s still there, idling by the curb.
Xavier all but shoves me into the backseat before climbing in after me. The driver twists around, eyeing us warily.
“He alive back there?”
“Yes. Just drive us back,” Xavier says.
The engine roars, and we swing into a U-turn.
The ride home is quiet—well, mostly. Xavier keeps sneaking glances at me every thirty seconds, his jaw tight, fingers drumming against his knee. I can practically feel the anxiety rolling off him, but I just grin back. He looks ridiculously pale with worry, and honestly, knowing he cares that much is doing something weird to my chest. I have to remind myself not to enjoy it too much—especially after my little erection incident under the stairs, which I hope we’ve both mentally erased.
When the taxi pulls up on Hickory Road, Xavier pays the driver and helps me out. The walk up to the apartment is anything but graceful—I knock over the umbrella stand by thedoor, then the coat rack for good measure. Thankfully, our only neighbors, the Waverlys, are heavy sleepers.
Once we’re inside, Xavier finally lets go of me. I sigh, relieved to be home, and flick on the living room light. The bulb sputters a sickly yellow, flickers once, then dies with a dramatic pop.
Xavier and I snort at the same time, annoyed. Then we freeze. A beat of silence—and we crack up, our laughter echoing off the walls of the dark apartment.
Still grinning, we pull out our phones and switch on the flashlights.
“Seriously? Even the damn light bulb’s had enough?” I mutter, heading toward the kitchen to try the switch there. Nothing.
“Must be the fuses,” Xavier says from behind me. “And the box is in the Waverlys’ apartment, so we’re stuck like this till morning.”
I try to sit, but the second I lower myself into the chair, a sharp, electric pain rips through my left shoulder. I curse under my breath and grab at it.
