I’m still torn on the whole “big guy in the sky” thing, but I’ll go and worship in my own way. I’ll thank whoever is out there that saved my ass.
“Gio is-a not for you,” Nonna muses, clasping my hand as we get out of my car. “But I like-a the car.”
I smile. “I thought you would.”
“Is-a sleek. Sexy. Will make-a man fall-a in love!” She twirls, her cane nearly taking somebody’s legs out.
“Nonna, control that thing.” I grasp the cane and straighten it. “You will behave in here, won’t you?”
“I-a always do.” She grins at me, which tells me that she’s the one who causes any trouble Father Luiz might deal with.
I shake my head and follow her into the church. She sits us in a pew close to the back and closes her eyes. The urge to do the same is tempting, almost overwhelming. Just to breathe in the serenity of this building, one I forgot even existed until just a couple of days ago.
One I want to bathe in, whether or not I believe the stories behind its existence. I don’t think you have to believe to respect or appreciate things. I think you just have to accept that there’s something other than your own desires out there.
The church fills rapidly, and Nonna pulls me to the side as an imposing figure takes a seat next to me.
I want to groan. I bet this is another one of her matchmaking efforts.
And it is.
So I groan. Because the guy is Drake.
I glare at Nonna. She grins and turns away, making conversation with the woman next to her.
Dammit.
“All right, cupcake?”
“Screw you.”
“Can we talk? After?” Drake asks me in a whisper, smiling.
“About?”
“The case.”
“Sure.” I beat the hint of disappointment down. “Not for long though. I have to take Nonna home.”
“Nah, you don’t. Trent, Alison, and the kids are on the other side of the church.”
“Scheming little…”
“Be nice,” Drake teases, knocking my elbow.
I slice my eyes to him, but I have to look away as my lips curve and Father Luiz steps up to start the service.
I’m not sure I listen to a thing he says. Not out of disrespect or disinterest, but because I’m still thinking over the last twenty-four hours and how quickly things escalated. I still don’t know all the ins and outs or the connections, but I assume that that’s what Drake’s going to tell me after this is done. I sure hope it is. I might have come to the conclusion that Marshall was the killer because of the blue paint spot on his back—something that would have had to have happened while my wall was wet, around ten p.m. that night—but I still don’t know the details like I want to.
So I sit, praying and singing and listening, until the service is over and people are leaving. I turn to my right to see Nonna, but she’s gone, having disappeared into the crowd deliberately, no doubt.
“Come on.” Drake takes my hand and pulls me up, leading me into the crowd walking through the door.
We break through the shuffle of people into the bright spring day, the temperature just creeping up high enough that I’d dare to call it summer.
“Slow down,” I say, hobbling across the parking lot behind him in my heels. Thankfully, the broken ones weren’t my favorite black, Prada, snakeskin ones, so I celebrated this morning by pairing them with my cream dress with the flared skirt.
Drake smirks, glancing at my feet. “No Chucks in your purse?”
I hold the large clutch up. “It’s big, but not Chucks kinda big. They’re in my car, but they wouldn’t match the dress anyway.”
His laugh is infectious and tickles across my skin in the best kind of way. One that makes my hairs stand on end with goose bumps and sends tingles down my spine.
“Here. Now, you can sit,” he says, opening the door to his truck and holding my elbow as I precariously climb into it.
“Thank you. What did you want to talk about?”
“When we get to your place.” He slams the door behind me, and a chill rolls over my skin. He gets in on his side and puts his key in the ignition, bringing the engine to life before he’s even closed his door.
One of the perks of Holly Woods being a small town is that it takes barely any time to get from your location to your destination. The church to my house is no different. Unfortunately, you don’t have to be crammed in a small space with someone you simultaneously hate and want to sleep with for a long time to get real uncomfortable real quick.
By the time he parks in my driveway, my stomach has twisted with the tension tightening between us and I can barely hear anything aside from my pulse pounding in my ears.
I open the door and swing my legs out, tactfully using the little step at the side to ease myself down onto the driveway. I dig my keys from my purse, ignoring the way his eyes are burning into the back of my head, and insert the right one into the lock. My alarm beeps, so I turn to disable it then walk into the kitchen, dropping my purse on the table.
“Well?” I ask Drake, turning with my hands on my hips.
He loosens the tie around his neck and pops the first button open. “Marshall severely restricted the records you received. He hid the fact that Lena suffered from multiple personality disorder, thus allowing her to compartmentalize the separate parts of her life.”
“And by different parts, you mean Dr. Gentry and Melly, Daniel, and Ryan, right?”
“Exactly them. We spoke with her psychiatrist first thing this morning, but she wasn’t able to answer whether or not Lena’s ‘other sides’ would know about each other. And as far as we know, it was something she hid from everyone.”
“Wow. How old was Marshall when Lena met his dad?”
“Twelve. Just.” Drake leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “She was a freshman in college, and that was that. Her doctors found no evidence of any trauma in the past bringing on her disorder, and they studied her extensively for emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. Her disorder was just one of those things, but it was triggered to a serious level after Melly was born.”
That makes sense. “So, that’s it? The case is closed now, right? You have his admission on tape.”
“We do. And it’s all thanks to you.”
I shrug and look away, grabbing a cloth from the side of the sink and rubbing at an imaginary spot on the countertop. “Would you believe me if I told you it was a coincidence? I just happened to notice the paint on Marshall’s shirt as he walked out, connected it with the time of the break-in, and that was it.”
“You were right though. The killer would come to you.”
“Well. He wanted to kill me.” I smile sadly, pausing in my useless cleaning. I glance at him. “Guess it’s lucky I’m a damn good shot with a gun and always keep more than one close to me, huh?”
His pink lips curve into a bright smile. “Sure is, cupcake.”
“One of these days, Drake Nash, I’m gonna cupcake your ass into next week.”
“I know.” His smile grows. “Until then, I’m gonna keep calling you it.”
“I know.” I glare at him. “Was that everything? I have to go and prove to my mom that I wasn’t used as target practice for a murdering lunatic.”
“In a minute.”
“In a minute?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Put the damn cloth down, Noelle. There ain’t a mark on your counter.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the glint in his eyes makes me shut it. Yeah. Caught. “Fine.” I throw it in the sink with way too much vigor just to make my point. “What do you want now?”
He drops his arm and crosses the kitchen, his eyes getting the frustrated glimmer I’m so accustomed to. “I’m real pissed at you.”
“When aren’t you?”
“Don’t ever put yourself in the way of a killer again, you hear me?” He stops in front of me, his eye twitching as he reaches for me. The backs of his fingers brush my cheek, lingering against my jaw. “Two seconds. That’s all it would have taken for that to end differently.”
“But it didn’t,” I say softly, wrapping my fingers around his and pushing his hand down. “Y’all gotta stop focusin’ on me as some damsel in distress.”
“I know you’ve got your badass gene”—his lips quirk—“but it’s my job to protect you.”