“Your dad was right to be worried,” I said. “He thought I’d be trouble for you, and I am. I should go away for a while. The situation keeps getting worse—”

“I pursued you, knowing your life isn’t exactly sunshine and roses right now. I wasn’t coerced or seduced, and I’m insulted at the insinuation I’m not mature enough to make my own choices. No one made me go after James that night. I’m responsible for what happened. Fucking harsh lesson, but it’s still mine to learn.”

“I—”

“Yeah, you don’t need this shit when you’re already kicking yourself. But that’s exactly why you need it. Reassurances aren’t helping. So I’ll be a dick and say that if you run off to protect me, we’re through. Also, I love you.”

“Wh-what?”

“Yes, I know, it seems like a completely inappropriate time to say it. But if I say it before sex or after sex or, worse, during sex, then it could seem like I’m caught up in the moment. Endorphins and all that shit. If I say it now, when I’m pissed off, obviously I mean it.”

“Unless you’re saying it so I’d feel even worse if I did leave.”

“There’s that, too.”

I laughed. He pulled his chair in so that our knees touched as he leaned across the table.

“Both Gabriel and I are grown men, capable of making our own choices. Plus, Gabriel is an asshole.”

I choked on another laugh.

“He isn’t accustomed to considering how his words sound,” Ricky said. “Or giving a shit. What he said back there was exactly what you’re afraid of: that he’s stuck and he blames you. I told him so, and he had no idea what I was talking about because he never said that. He only meant there’s no point in you leaving now. As for the part about him not wanting you to leave, that should go without saying.” Ricky leaned back. “And he needs your help with his case. Our help. I want in.”

I went still.

“I may not be a PI,” he continued. “But I have killer research skills plus extensive criminal contacts. I’ll work for free, and I’m highly motivated: if we don’t discover who killed James, I could go to jail.”

“The help would be wonderful. But . . . there are . . .” Damn it, how do I word this? “There have been things going on, intertwined with this and linked to my parents—to the Larsens—that I haven’t told you about.”

“Ah. Confidentiality issues. That could be tricky. Do you want me to talk to Gabriel?”

“No, I will.”

CURTAINS

Gabriel stood in Rose’s parlor, looking out the front window at Olivia’s apartment. Inside, she was telling Ricky everything. He’d spent the last twenty minutes thinking of nothing except what was happening in that apartment, and yet each time he let it coalesce into a clear thought, his jaw clenched tight enough to set it aching.

“I need to tell him,” she’d said. “It’s gone too far, and he’s too involved. Not knowing exactly what’s going on puts him in danger.”

“So you’re going to tell him that you can read omens . . . and the town of Cainsville is populated by fairies.”

He won’t believe you. He’ll think we’re both mad and get as far away as possible.

“You’re right,” he’d said. “You should tell him.”

Even as the words came out, he’d felt a stab of guilt. As unfamiliar an emotion as the jealousy that roiled in his gut, thinking of her sharing their secrets with Ricky.

But they’re ours. Damn it, they’re ours.

Their secrets. The part of her life Ricky didn’t share. As long as Gabriel knew about the omens and Cainsville, and Ricky did not, Olivia would stay with Gabriel. He had a purpose.

Now he would not.

Unless, in telling Ricky, she lost him.

Which Gabriel should not want.

He’s good for her. Good to her. He makes her happy.

But why him?

Because it’s always been him.

Gabriel rubbed his temples. It’d been two days since he’d started hearing that internal dialogue. It wasn’t the proverbial “voice in his head.” He’d handled cases where his clients claimed that’s what compelled them to commit crimes. They were lying, of course. But he’d researched the phenomenon enough to counsel them on how to present their symptoms in a believable fashion.

Gabriel knew he was hearing his own unbidden thoughts. Yet they made no sense.

“You’re hoping it doesn’t go well.”

That voice came from right behind him. Rose.

“You’re hoping he won’t be able to handle it, and he’ll leave her.”

Ice seeped into his voice. “I realize you may not think much of my ability to empathize with others, but I would never wish to see Olivia hurt like that.”

“Good. Because the only acceptable reason for hoping that is if you planned to take advantage of the situation and offer yourself as a replacement, which I doubt.”

“That would be correct.”

“Then stop staring out that damn window, hoping you’ll see Ricky Gallagher storm out of her life.”

He fixed his aunt with a look known to make even expert witnesses quail. She didn’t flinch.

“You want her all to yourself,” she said. “Her time and her attention. If you wish to speak to her, she’d better be there to take your call. If you wish to see her, she’d better be available. And she sure as hell better not be sleeping with another guy, even if you can’t bring yourself to cross that threshold yourself. That’s not fair, Gabriel. You might be accustomed to getting what you want, but you aren’t going to lock Olivia up on your terms. You just aren’t.”