Page 121 of Wicked Little Secret

I laugh despite myself. “Of course, you’d name your dog after a fictional lawyer.”

“And one of the greatest literary works to ever exist.”

“That’s so…you.”

His arm tightens around me and he nuzzleshis face against mine. “You enjoy these little brainiac details about me. Mainly because you’re a brainiac yourself.”

I hum in thought. “Iwasvaledictorian.”

“High school or college?”

“Both. You?”

“Same. Though I graduated high school a year early.”

“Nerd,” I snort. The word barely leaves me before Theron’s making me pay for my teasing. He tugs me down ’til I’m laying head first in his lap and then drops several warm kisses all over my face and throat. Including the spots where I’m ticklish. I squirm amid his attack, trying to get up only to be held down in his lap.

The movie we’ve put on is long forgotten about.

So is the discovery I made only moments ago before I even came downstairs.

Theron had told me to pick something out of his closet to wear; something that’s comfy and warm for the movie we’d watch. As he left the room, I padded into his closet and reached for one of the hoodies hanging on the rack.

The last thing I meant to do was knock over a shoebox that contained private documents inside. The contents spilled out of the box at my feet. I’d glanced up to make sure I was alone before I knelt to collect everything.

It was impossible not to notice what some of the papers were. There was a manila folder that had Theron’s name scribbled onto the label. I peeked inside to find a police file about an arrest that had been made in June 2005.

A mugshot of a twenty-two-year-old Theron stared up at me. The same man, only two decades younger, with his unruly dark hair and glasses.

But that wasn’t the only notable thing I’d found.

The other was a letter. Some kind of break up letter written to him by a woman named Josalyn Webber.

Theron,

I had to write this instead of telling you to your face. I knew you’d talk me out of it. You’d make me feel bad for walking away from you like this. But I’ve told you we can never be together. I’ve made my choices and you need to accept them. Your friendship has meant so much. It’ll always be special, but please let it go. Please let me go.

Love, Josalyn

Theron had called my name from downstairs and startled me. I had jumped and then rushed to cram everything back into the shoebox and return it to its place in the closet. Half a minute later, he’d come up to look for me.

I’d put a smile on my face and pretended like I hadn’t been snooping.

An hour later, as we cuddle on his sofa, I can’t help keeping what I’d read on the back of my mind. I’m not sure what to make of it, except to note that Josalyn Webber had been one of the victims of the Valentine Killer.

Theron had been a law student at the time…

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts. He stares adoringly at me, stroking my cheek. “Hungry? Cold? Want to watch a different movie?”

“It’s not even halfway over.”

“I think we all know what’s in the box. Though Kevin Spacey plays a convincing villain.”

“Maybe it’s a little true to life,” I murmur, then I yawn. “I’m just tired.”

“Tonight you’ll sleep in my bed. Where you belong.”

The fondness I already have for him expands inside my chest, fighting off the curiosity I’d had earlier in his closet. I’m still lying in his lap when I smile up at him and then nod. “Okay, Professor. You know what’s best.”

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