Page 61 of Queen Rose

Aria

Ifeel sick. All I’ve been able to think about since the moment I laid eyes on my dead aunt is that Conner murdered her. In my mind, it’s obvious. But how do I say that to anyone else without revealing why I feel that way? Which makes me feel like crap for not saying anything. But any detective worth their salt knows that most people are murdered by someone close to them. They need to open their eyes because what I’d seen had to have been a crime of passion. What did Christina do to piss Conner off? Why in my bedroom? Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up all over again. I don’t want to think about it anymore.

Last night. The night my aunt died.

I spent all of today with my friends. They’ve kept me busy watching movies and playing games. Not one word about last night has been said the entire time, and I have a feeling I know why. Nate probably told them it was a bad idea. I woke up three times crying in the middle of the night. He knows I’m a mess.

It doesn’t help that I’ve been secretly googling about police investigations, not wanting to bring it up with anyone else. Not wanting to talk.

The police will spend time collecting evidence from the scene and processing it. They’ll interview everyone who’s been to the house, as well as anyone Christina interacted with on a regular basis. They’ll check to see where everyone was on the night in question.

On the night I found Christina dead.

I have to wonder how much longer it’s going to be before all the shit I’ve buried deep erupts like a volcano.

Nate is still here. He’s stuck to my side like glue. A little while ago, he finally admitted that he sent an emergency text to Melinda for help after explaining what was happening. She’d run over to look in on Erin and the kids. She’s still there, I guess. Hanging with them until morning.

Too fucking sweet. All of them.

Around nine, I stop fighting my exhaustion and allow Nate to take me up to bed. All night long, I toss and turn in his arms, images of my aunt dying at the hands of a faceless man flash through my dreams. It’s enough to make me lose my mind.

But through it all, Nate is here. Supporting me. Caring for me. And I begin to wonder if maybe he loves me the way I love him.

* * *

Sunday, when I wake up, there’s one single text message notification on my phone.

Conner:You’d better be staying with a girlfriend.

My heart rate skyrockets. Asshole. That’s the first communication he has with me after my aunt’s death? No apologies. No human decency. And from the ick factor I’m getting from that one text, no remorse.

I’m curious as hell what the police have asked him and what he said, but I’ll never know. And now he knows I’ve said nothing to them about him and me. Because if I had, they’d be all over his ass for an entirely different reason. My throat clogs. Fuck. What do I do now? My aunt may have been a bitch, but she didn’t deserve to die like that. There’s nothing more to throw up, so when bile hits the back of my mouth, I swallow it down.

I stare at my phone screen for several minutes, letting the words in front of my eyes blur. I don’t want to answer him at all, but I don’t want him hounding me, either.

Me:Lyla’s.

I’m guessing Conner hasn’t a fucking clue who Lyla is or where she’s staying, so that should keep him away from me. The last thing I need is him turning up here. I turn off my phone and spend the next twenty minutes trying to breathe normally again and stop my hands from shaking. I can’t believe he has the balls to contact me.

What I need right now is something normal—something that will take my mind off how awful I feel keeping all of this shit bottled up inside me. I press my lips together and poke Nate, who’s snoring softly next to me. “Mm?”

“Wake up.”

He sits straight up in the bed, blinking rapidly, a heaving breath escaping from him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I bite my lip, eyeing him as he gradually calms, realizing I’m fine. “I want to go make pancakes for Becca and Brandon.”

“You sure you don’t want to hang here for a while longer?”

“I’ll probably come back and sleep here tonight, but you can’t stay away from your family forever. And…” I glance up at him from under my lashes. “I don’t want to be away from you. So, pancakes.”

An hour later, we’re bobbing and weaving past each other in Erin’s small kitchen. Every time we accidentally collide, he stops to make sure he hasn’t hurt me. Because my Nate is a big dude.

“You almost ready there? This bacon is done.” He uses a pair of tongs to pull it from the pan and transfers it to a paper-towel-covered plate.

“Just about.” I give him a brief smile before I refocus on the pancakes I’m cooking on the griddle. “Don’t make me mess these up.”

He chuckles and pats my butt cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m going to wake up Becca and Brandon. I’m surprised they aren’t already out here and all over us. Especially with the way the kitchen smells right now.”

---