Page 30 of Detectives in Love
“No, that’s Xavier’s. Mine’s upstairs.”
Our eyes meet for half a second, but it’s enough—I catch the flicker of recognition there, the unspoken question she doesn’t ask. She remembers that’s exactly where I woke up.
Heat creeps up my neck, and I glance away quickly, pretending to check if the kettle’s still hot. I can feel Monica watching me.
“Want to tell me anything?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
“Nope,” I say, avoiding her gaze, the coward I am.
She doesn’t let it go. She punches my shoulder, light and teasing. “Newt.”
“What?” I finally look at her, fully aware I must seem flustered—a schoolboy caught off guard.
“Are you and Xavier…” She trails off, letting the question hang.
I blink. “Hmm?” Playing dumb, as if that’s going to save me.
“I heard what his uncle said to you. And I read the article.”
“Monica,” I sigh. “Not you too. Please.”
She studies me for a beat, then exhales and raises her hands, giving in. “Okay, okay.”
Silence lingers until I clear my throat. “I’ll go get dressed,” I say. “Wait here.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond before turning on my heel and heading back through the living room, up the stairs, and into my bedroom.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I let out a slow breath, relieved to have escaped—for now.
“How are you feeling?”
I jolt, my pulse kicking up as my eyes adjust to the dim light spilling through the open curtains.
There’s someone on my bed. Xavier.
Right—Mrs. Waverly did say he was here…
“I’ve been better,” I mutter, suddenly aware of the dull throb in my skull. I’d been so distracted, I’d almost forgotten how bad I felt until he asked. “Why are you here?”
I almost say,Why are you here, in the dark, lying on my bed?but catch myself.
“As you might’ve noticed, the living room’s been taken over,” Xavier says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Didn’t want to wake you, so I came in here.”
I nod and sit at the foot of the bed.
“Met my sister?”
“Mm.” Xavier grunts in affirmation. “She’s not much like you.”
I know he doesn’t mean it physically.
“Yeah. Just like your uncle isn’t much like you…”
Xavier stiffens. “Did he say something to you?” There’s tension under the calm now.
My heart skips. Is he worried Ernest thinks we’re sleeping together—like everyone else? I freeze, thankful the dim light hides my face. I’ve never been good at hiding my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I say, keeping my voice even. “He wants us to drop the Rishetor case.” I leave out the rest of the conversation on purpose.
