Page 53 of Savored Sins
Lydia, who looks a bit more trusting than when I walked in fifteen minutes ago, makes the copies and sends me dubiouslyon my way. I can tell she isn’t a huge fan of me getting involved in missing person cases, but geez—the dang case is a hundred years old. It’s about time someone found out what happened to Lena.
Once outside, I hightail it straight to Autumn’s store. I know I’ll be seeing her in just a few hours to film more footage for my pilot, but I’m fucking stoked about this information and I know she will be, too. Because, like, what if, when Lena spelled outmurderon the spirit board, she didn’t meanshewas going to murder someone—but thatsheherself had been murdered?
Smell that? This shit is fishy.
Hardly even looking where I’m going, I stride into Autumn’s store and?—
What the fuck?
Autumn and some dude are in the back of the store, and although I don’t recognize him by his face, I figure out pretty quickly who he is by what a douchebag he’s being. I know people say it’s rude to eavesdrop, but I never claimed to be polite. So I stand there and shamelessly listen, ready to throw down for Autumn if this guy so much as takes a single step toward her.
“Be reasonable,” Autumn is saying. Her voice sounds… not like her. Like she’s making herself small, toning herself down to fit in some kind of box. “…as a favor to Lydia. She and Will were going a little nuts with Zeke all up in their business…”
I stop when I hear my name. This conversation is... about me? But I’m reeled in now, too worried about why Patrick is here and why he’s bothering Autumn to turn around and leave.
“They’re only that—rumors. You think I’m not aware Zeke’s just a player? Get real. There’s nothing to any of this…”
Autumn’s words blur together. Just a player? Is that what she thinks of me? I mean… of course it is. It’s what Iwantedher to think. It’s what I wanteveryoneto think. It’s what helps me skate by, helps keep me flitting around, darting from oneamusement to the next, so I never have to stop and wonder whether Icouldmake someone stay.
And maybe that’s why what Autumn just said hits me like a ton of bricks, right in the chest. I can’t be mad at her. She’s just believing what I’ve shown her—and I think I kind of believed it, too. But I don’t know anymore.
So I stride forward, because, regardless of what either of them say or think about me, that’s not the point. This fuckwad doesnotget to talk to Autumn like this.
“Yo, pretty boy,” I say, walking right up to the dude and fixing him with an unflinching stare. I’m standing so close our chests are almost touching, and I feel a little smug when I realize I’m a half inch taller than he is. “You wanna talk to her like that again? Huh? I fucking dare you.”
Patrick surveys me, his dark eyes cold and calculating. He’s wearing a smirk that tells me he thinks he’s better than me, but I don’t care. Let him. I know I can make his ex-wife come with just a few strokes of my fingers—so suck on that, pal.
Patrick just smiles at me, his lips as thin as a snake’s. He turns to Autumn. “Well, then—this must be Zeke. How sweet. Does he come when you call him?”
Even though his remark is directed at Autumn, I scoff. “Oh. Bro. She comes, too, forsure.”
I see Autumn wince. Although she doesn’t slap a palm to her face, she may as well have, because her reaction is clear.
Patrick’s head snaps around, and his eyes are blazing. He gives a quiet laugh, eyes flicking between Autumn and me, then shakes his head.
“Alright, Autumn. I tried. You wanna fuck up your reputation along with mine? Be my guest, but know there’ll be consequences.”
Autumn doesn’t reply, just blows out her breath as she watches him turn and leave. He shoots me one more death glareon his way out the door and disappears down the sidewalk. Autumn and I are left standing in the middle of her store staring at one another, the silence thick.
“Sorry you had to hear that,” Autumn says. “He’s a dick.”
“Sure is,” I say, offering her a signature grin.
Her words are still rolling around in my head, and I’m pretty sure that line about me being just a player has already buried itself deep in my chest. But I don’t say anything about any of that. What is there to say? It’s what she thinks, and honestly? It’s probably the truth. I’ll shake this off like I always do.
“Anyway,” I continue, handing Autumn the folder of newspaper scans. “I came by to give you these. Lydia found them in the archives for me. Apparently, Lena Reeves disappeared out of nowhere in June 1937—never heard from again.”
Autumn takes the scans. She leafs through them, then glances up at me, glad for another subject to cling to. “Wait—maybe she was trying to tell meshegot murdered, not that she was going to murder me.”
I shoot her a wry smile. “That’s what I’m thinking. We’ll ask her about it tonight. But for now, I thought you’d appreciate knowing we’ve got recorded proof to go along with whatever else we find out.”
“Thanks,” Autumn says, holding my gaze for a moment. “See you tonight?”
“Yep.”
I give her a nod and get the hell out of there, leaving the scans for her to look through. There’s a weird sort of ache in my chest, and I’m trying to will it away. After all, nothing’s changed.
I’m in exactly the same place I was before: I’m screwing the hottest chick I’ve seen in my life, and I’m going to win this goddamn pilot competition if it means having to die and come back as a ghost to haunt the producers at the SyFy Channel. Yeah. It’s all good, man.
