Page 192 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

The lights were off, and we weren’t speaking. Just lying naked, tangled together, our bodies still damp from our mutual shower. We hadn’t had sex again after the dressing room.

Then again, who needed a followup to that?

I drew my fingernail around his nipple. “You chased me down tonight to talk to me about Angel?”

“No. I was on my way to you on a friend’s plane when someone I worked with let me know Angel was livestreaming and had mentioned me.”

“Wait, you were on your way to me before you knew? Why?”

He combed a lock of wet hair behind my ear. “Because I love you.”

Saying nothing, I laid my head on his chest. Could it truly be that easy? Everything between us had been so hard right from the very beginning. Now it was as if some dam had opened up between us and the logjam that had blocked us from being honest was finally moving out of the way.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” I murmured.

“Just think of me fondly when I tell the rest.” He cleared his throat. “I think Kyle stole the pad containing those songs.”

I frowned and sat up again. “What? You didn’t have the original pad we wrote it on. I found it in Logan’s piano bench, remember? And that’s where I left it when we were done.”

Or I thought I had anyway. It wasn’t as if I’d believed we would actually ever do anything with that song. I’d never truly thought we would be anything other than greedy touches and hungry kisses in stolen slices of time before we went back to our regular lives.

“If you left it in that bench, then I’m even more certain he stole it. He was there in the barn with us that night. And I think he stole my pad, which had some of the lyrics you heard Angel sing tonight. She elaborated on them, or whomever gave the songs to her did. I’d also recopied what I remembered of our song, so he had two shots at it.”

“Why would you think he took it?”

He folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I was diagnosed with PTSD after the accident. I never believed the diagnosis. Didn’t have a use for the therapist I went to either. But some stuff has been happening I can’t account for. Either I’ve been having some kind of mental breaks or he’s involved somehow.” He shut his eyes. “I would rather believe I’m losing it.”

“You’re not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you.”

“We’ve only had scattered days and weeks—”

“Look at me.”

He looked, his lips curving slightly as I took hold of his chin.

“If I ever saw anything weird with you, I’d let you know. There has never been a single moment you didn’t seem completely lucid to me.” I pursed my mouth. “Okay, tonight you were a jackass for grabbing me considering all that’s gone on, but if that hadn’t been the case, it would’ve been hot and I wouldn’t have been pissed.”

“Aye. That was asinine. Have I apologized for that?”

“Only a time or seven. But I’m just saying. You might be a fucker sometimes, but you’re an entirely clear-headed one. You’re almost too linear.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“Why didn’t you tell me your suspicions about Kyle before tonight? Or did you just figure it out?”

“Ahh, no. I’ve suspected it could be the case for a while. And maybe you’ll remember your new kindly feelings in my direction when I tell you the whole of this.”

I hiked the sheet up over my breasts. “No free peep shows until you’re finished. Spill it, Alex.”

He spilled. He mentioned the destroyed demo cassette tape Lo had asked him about, along with the missing clothes and pad of lyrics he’d left behind that day we’d been together at the waterfall on Lo’s property. We’d gone back for his belongings together, but at the time, I’d figured he’d just misplaced them, as unlikely as it was considering his usual preciseness. Then Angel had registered his song, giving him credit. Just the one song though. Ours she’d kept under wraps until bringing it out during the livestream.

“Something else happened.”

“I don’t like how that sounds.”

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