Page 154 of Because I Killed Him
Instead, Charlotte stares at her reflection, her lips pressed into a thin line, as if gearing up to punch it. When she finally turns to me, the hollow sheen in her eyes makes it clear this is one secret she’s never going to offer up willingly.
As we head outside, I tell myself some things are better left in the closet. After what I saw between Edmund and his mother, I should know that better than anyone.
Edmund’s midnight blue hovercar is already waiting outside the Green Dormitory, its back gullwing door swung wide. The boys are leaning against the decorative grille, looking like they drove through a wave of stardust with the windows down. Even Dickie, who’s not exactly easy on the eyes, could make a horse whinny in his dressage tailcoat.
Charlotte walks ahead of me in silence, nursing her wounds, until she spots the hovercar idling by the curb. Then a switch flips. She’s all delight and diamonds, swaying her hips with effortless charm as she calls to the boys, “I hope you are saving the window seats for the ladies.”
The sight makes my heart ache.
“Take the window seat, darling. Dickie and I are taking the bike.” Jack jerks his thumb at the big, dust-streaked hoverbike leaning against the curb.
Charlotte’s smile softens, wistful, as if she’s remembering all the nights she rode behind Jack on it. Then she turns to the public hoverboard rack, pulls one free, and powers it on.
“Try to keep up,” she says with a wink.
Jack laughs, though there’s a trace of regret in it. He’s much easier to read when he’s sober. “I’ll even give you a head start,” he calls, waving her forward.
Charlotte rockets down the street. Jack and Dickie hop on the hoverbike and race after her, leaving a trail of dust and smoke, while Dickie’s Pinkie chaperone follows on a hoverboard.
It’s only after their echoes fade that I realize they’ve left Edmund and me alone. He’s still leaning against the ornamental grille, already a test of my restraint in the tailored riding outfit Dickie gave him for his birthday. The shadows beneath his eyes that I noticed in the lecture room are gone, replaced by a bright, sharpened alertness, like an animal that’s caught a scent.
“Ladies first,” he says.
I quietly unravel under his gaze. The way he looks at me is gentle, yet it feels like a touch, like the brush of a fingertip across bare skin. My heart kicks hard as I climb into the back seat, which suddenly feels too small and enclosed. Yet deep inside, the part of me I’m still fighting, there’s no place I’d rather be.
Edmund steps in after me and lowers himself into the seat opposite, so we’re facing each other. The hovercar lifts off and veers down the street, heading northeast toward the Moonshine Mile. As we speed through a string of green lights, he flips open the console bar and pulls out a long, iridescent bottle shaped like something that might hatch if you stare at it too long.
“What kind of alcohol is that?” I ask, reading the Knucklebone label.
“Brandy.” He pops the cork out the window. “Two shots will have you eating dirt, but one will keep your hands steady. These horses are engineered.”
“How fast can they run?”
“A hundred.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Vivian’s fastest horse at home barely ever breaks seventy miles per hour.
Edmund hands me a shot, and I throw it back. The Knucklebone burns across my tongue, but I hardly taste it. I’m too busy noticing that, unlike Jack, drinking suits Edmund. It turns up the light in his eyes and puts a flush in his cheeks, as if he’s come off a sprint in the summer heat.
“So,” he says, setting his glass in the console, “what’d you think of my bedroom?”
I choke on air more than liquor. “W-What?”
“My bedroom.” His tone is easy, but his eyes aren’t. “Do I have style?”
My thoughts race, already plotting how to strangle Dickie if he told. “How do you know I went in?”
“You left evidence.” Edmund slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out my missing diamond teardrop earring.
Relief surges, but it dies just as quickly under the rush of heat flooding my face.
“I… t-the door was unlocked,” I stammer. “I wanted to see what it looked like, and then I saw the Vanguard uniform, and—” I cut myself off. Excuses won’t help. They never do. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in.”
“You going in isn’t a problem. That’s why I left it unlocked.” Edmund hands me the earring, then pulls a bottle of champagne from the console and unwinds the wire at its neck. “I didn’t notice it on the floor. Even stepped on it once, I think. Miss Hussey’s the one who found it.”
Shit.
Dickie said Irene searches Edmund’s room every time she visits, hunting for proof of Edmund’s mistresses. Now that she’s found the earring, she’s probably funneling all her resources into finding out who it belongs to.
