Page 6 of Three for a Girl

Keeley didn’t comment.

“Same time next week.”

He nodded and left. He kept his walk measured and calm, overly aware Keeley’s office faced the parking lot.

The blast of the summer sun hit him, and in every direction he could see the air warping with the heat. Two days of stifling sun, he hoped his sweaty appearance could’ve been blamed on the weather.

He didn’t look towards Keeley’s office, but imagined her attention was fixed to him. Chad switched on the ignition, avoided colliding with any other vehicle, and set off for the journey home.

Panic reared up on him so fast, he strangled the steering wheel as he pulled up on the side of the road. He flicked his hazard lights on, and practiced his slow breathing technique. His gasps reminded him of the wind at home rushing between the two buildings.

Home with Romeo, his safe place, his sanctuary.

The last few months had been building to this moment, being given the green light to step into his detective suit once again. He’d been hoping and praying for it, envisioning the elation, the relief. He hadn’t been expecting the wave of nerves—the bubbling in his stomach, thick and hot like tar.

He wasn’t nervous over the new station, his new colleagues, or the grizzly crime scenes he was bound to face. His insides jittered and his lungs twisted for him and Romeo.

The first case, it all rested on the first case. It was the pivotal moment in their relationship. If they could get through the first one still intact, still together, still alive, then they’d get through any.

Chad pulled back onto the road, heading home to his monster and savior while doing his best to push his nerves aside.

****

A winding driveway led up to the house.

Meadows surrounded it, and the long grass was up to Chad’s hips. He bumped along the dirt track with his gaze fixed to the house. It sat on a gentle hill, a perfect vantage point for them to see anyone coming.

Few people had ventured to the house—an electrician and a plumber had both been called in the first week they’d moved in. Chad sent Romeo up to the attic, and the low ceiling gave him a backache that lasted days.

Chad stopped the car, and took a slow breath. It seemed like a dream looking up at the house, knowing Romeo was inside. It hadn’t been easy, it had taken months, but they were finally there, living together, Romeo and Chad.

Except the detective in Chad demanded he return to work. It itched at his brain. He had to soothe it, had to set right the wrong of harboring a serial killer by catching more. It was the balancing act between good and bad he had to satisfy.

Chad glanced up at the camera as he made his way inside. Most of them were hidden, some in trees, plants pots, garden ornaments, all dotted around the front of the property. They had plenty of warning when people came calling, plenty of time for Romeo to make himself scarce and disappear, either into the outhouse or the back-aching attic.

Chad braced his hand on the wall and breathed in the scent of home. Romeo.

Soft music flowed from the kitchen, some slow classic that would’ve been perfect for a romantic scene in a black and white film.

Chad slipped off his shoes, hung up his jacket, and went to find Romeo. The kitchen was empty, but the room was warm, and held the scent of spices. Chad frowned at all the pots and pans on the cooker, then paused at the banging sound coming from the outhouse.

The outhouse belonged to Romeo. It was his space to do as he pleased. Windowless, with buzzing lights and a concrete floor, Chad didn’t think of it as homely, but it was the place Romeo spent most of his day.

Chad shoved on his boots, and followed the clunking.

He crept in and watched Romeo from a distance. The gym equipment was the first thing Romeo constructed. He worked out every day, Chad suspected it was more to cure the boredom than to keep in shape, but he wasn’t complaining, spying on Romeo exercising always got his heart going.

The gym equipment was untouched in the corner, and the repetitive banging wasn’t the weights lifting and falling, but a hammer, raining down hell on a piece of wood. The gym had come first, the flat-pack furniture second.

The outhouse resembled a showroom, full of beds, tables, cabinets, desks, sideboards, closets. It held the scent of sawdust, and cardboard.

Chad had no idea what to do with all the furniture, but as long as there was room in the outhouse, Romeo said he’d keep buying them.

He couldn’t wait to unwrap each box that arrived, like a kid at Christmas. He’d flap the instruction in front of Chad’s face with glee in his eyes when most people would shrivel up and die at the complexity. It kept him busy, but he got in a grump whenever he was forced to wait for a missing piece, which happened a lot.

Romeo was shirtless, and Chad admired the view of his back, all his muscles tightening, then relaxing with the blow, but as he edged around the room, he swallowed, and a feeling of unease stopped him in his tracks. Chad picked up on the darkness crackling in the air, the aura that wrapped around Romeo every few days like a storm cloud. It threatened thunder, lightning, but Romeo kept it at bay, waited for it to ease, then flashed Chad a reassuring smile.

Romeo hadn’t seen him. His attention was fixed to the table leg. He scrunched his face up in a snarl, flashing his teeth with each hit of the hammer. The anger in his expression distorted his handsome face. He wasn’t building the table, he was destroying it. The table leg had split, but he kept hitting it, bits of wood splinted off, flying through the air.

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