3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

F elix Finley was a silk-patterned-pajama-wearing enigma, that was for sure.

He made me feel giddy in a way very few things in my life ever had. Maybe it was the fact he was a murderer—right across the street from me!—or maybe it was his smile. Either way, my good mood had followed me all day.

Even now, as I watched him like a hawk, I couldn't turn off the buzz of excitement that vibrated beneath my skin.

Felix relaxed fractionally.

It was a small change, but I was adept at reading body language so I noticed anyway. It was a skill that was necessary for a man as socially challenged as I was. I had many strengths, but this was not one that came naturally. I had been forced to learn through trial and error and it had taken me many years to recognize the reactions that I did not instinctively understand.

I'd had a lot of mishaps in my youth.

Mishaps I was reluctant to repeat.

Obviously grateful for the reprieve I'd offered, Felix led the way down the hallway toward the staircase that sat at the end. When he stepped beneath the overhead light, I could make out his pajamas a little more clearly, amused to find that the silk was covered in a myriad of different constellations.

Does he like stars?

It seemed a very specific choice to make. I'd never worn patterned pajamas. At least—not without being forced.

I shuddered when I remembered the horrific matching plaid monstrosities that our parents put us in for Christmas pictures throughout my childhood. That was one thing I was glad had ended when my mother died. And people thought I was sadistic. I, at least, had never forced children to wear matching pajamas. When I'd told Winnie that, she'd cried—and I'd never brought it up again.

Felix led me up the stairs, hopping one graceful step at a time—no longer bumbling when he wasn't self-conscious of what he was doing. "Do we have to talk about how I killed him?" he fretted, voice hushed. "Can you just…believe me when I say it was an accident?"

I grunted noncommittally as I followed after him, trying not to judge him for the dust that lined the ancient wood.

I'd ask him whatever I damn well wanted.

As if he could read my mind, Felix pleaded, "Marshall, please?"

He whirled around at the top of the first landing, effectively cutting me off from the rest of the cluttered house. This floor was somehow worse than the one below it. Was that a gramophone ?

Felix's hands were on his hips, frustration evident in his eyes as he leveled me with a pleading look. "Please, just…drop it?"

"You want me to drop the fact that you killed someone?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Even though I spent all night helping you dispose of the body?"

"Yes."

"And I am here, to help you make sure there is no evidence left behind?"

"Yes."

It was a ridiculous request. And one I would've never in a million years expected. Which was why… huh .

Which was why I was going to respect it.

Clutter and cobwebs be damned.

"Fine." Life was monotonous. There were very few things that brought me joy. And though I loved Beach Town and the members of The Club , I had no true friends here. I kept my coworkers at arm's length. I fraternized with the neighbors, if only to keep up appearances. The only proper social time I had was when my elder sister Winnifred (Winnie) came to visit once a month.

It wasn't like my social schedule was all that packed.

So really…was it such a bad thing to let this continue? If I didn't get answers now, the curiosity would eat at me. Which meant I may possibly get weeks, maybe even months more of entertainment out of this whole situation. I could visit Felix. Poke at him. Prod him. Enjoy the way he dodged my questions until the day he inevitably didn't and I lost interest.

I'd find out eventually, so what was the harm in making him think he'd won?

"Really?" Felix perked up, his concerned expression melting away as he beamed down at me. Ah. There was the idiot that had waved at me while walking his cats at night.

"Really," I confirmed, amused.

"Wow! Okay. Gosh , I did not expect that to be so easy. Thank you, Marshall."

"You're welcome." I cleared my throat, arching a brow pointedly toward the rest of the stairs that he was still blocking.

"Right, right . Bedroom. Murder. Clean up." Felix offered me a jaunty salute, before turning himself right back around and marching up the steps. This time he moved quickly, and I realized belatedly, that he'd been practically dragging his feet before.

Like he'd been nervous and now he was excited .

"It's a lovely house, isn't it?" Felix asked when we neared the third floor.

Lovely was not the word I'd use. "It's large," I said, trying to be nice.

"It is!" Felix laughed and the sound was a little brittle. "Maybe too large for one person."

"Maybe. "

"I got a good deal on it when I moved in," he added, then seemed to regret his words immediately, because they offered the opportunity for me to question him.

"When was that?" I asked. He looked like he hadn't aged a day since I'd moved in across the street from him, so I knew he had to be older than he looked.

"Ah, you know. A while ago." Felix waved me off vaguely, his shoulders hunched up tight again.

"Why Beach Town?" I asked, curious as to why he was acting so guilty.

"It's quiet?" He sounded like he was asking me, not telling me. Which was confusing.

I knew why I'd moved here. There'd been an odd little shopkeep who had suggested it to me when I'd been passing through. I didn't understand why anyone else would. Especially a man like Felix.

"It is," I agreed, figuring I'd leave it at that, as we'd finally reached the top floor. I was surprised to find that his bedroom was on the third floor. The reasoning behind that was quickly revealed as Felix pushed the antique door open.

The first thing I noticed was the surprising lack of clutter.

The next thing I noticed was the frankly massive telescope that took up a quarter of the room. How the hell could he see anything through the— oh . The ceiling was fully made of glass—aside from the blackout blinds that currently covered it— Well, that answered that .

Beside the star-hunting monstrosity there was a desk covered in haphazard papers, as well as a utility cart full of a myriad of different colors of yarn. Across the room lay a bed, a trail of crocheted wisteria drooping from the ceiling above it. The bed was far larger than a man of Felix's size needed, and decked out in a plethora of pillows and lovely navy blue comforters.

He clearly spent a lot of time up here, which made sense.

But it still surprised me.

So far, this was the only part of the house that wasn't crowded with objects and covered in dust. The telescope especially looked well-loved.

There was personality dripping from every inch of the room. Along with the lavender-colored wisteria, looping vines made entirely of yarn decorated the cracks and crevices, draping over the four poster bed like it'd come straight from a swamp. How many hours had that taken him? I had a feeling I didn't want to know.

Most interesting of all, however, was the cat tree that lined a back wall, and the regal beast that sat atop it, her green eyes disapproving.

"You have cats."

"I do," Felix declared proudly, hands on his hips. "That one's Dolly. She thinks she's the boss of the house. She's also the fattest, as she steals Tiffany's food." Felix cackled, very obviously delighted by her. He was clearly unhinged. "Watch out though. You're not a pipsqueak like I am—if you walk by her tree too close she'll probably try to swipe at that pretty silver hair of yours."

He thinks my hair is pretty.

"It's not silver," I scoffed, arching a brow. I only had a smattering of gray in the front, so his statement was entirely inaccurate. Not that I cared all that much about what color my hair was, or how others perceived it.

"Blond then," he smiled. " With silver."

I couldn't argue with that so I shoved the thought aside, instead focusing on the feline so that I could avoid it. Distracted now, I side-stepped toward the giant telescope that took up the other side of the room. "You like stars." It was obvious. No man who didn't like the stars had a telescope like this.

I didn't get all that close before Felix reacted. His shoulder brushed against mine as he crossed the room, before stopping at the base of the large telescope. He laid a hand on it, the copper shining between his fingertips. The lovely veins on the top of his hand flickered as he tipped his chin up toward the covered ceiling and hummed.

This was the first time I'd truly seen him still.

No fidgeting.

No noise.

"I love stars," he countered, voice reverent.

"Why?" Curiosity once again got the better of me.

"They're steady." Felix murmured, voice reverent. " Constant ." His lashes kissed his cheeks as he sighed. When his eyes opened, they stared unseeingly at the covered ceiling—as though he had memorized the stars that lay hidden behind the fabric.

My throat was dry as I admired the slope of his nose, the swoop of his chin, the span of his long, pale throat. There was a peculiar smattering of freckles at the base of it where his collarbone flirted with the fabric. I'd never noticed them before, but I certainly did now.

"Until they explode," I added helpfully. Felix laughed, and I shivered, enamored with the way his body came to life. Quaking, like a statue resurrected.

"Until they explode," Felix agreed, twisting to look at me. There were mysteries swirling in the depths of those lovely eyes. His nostrils flared, and he sucked in a greedy breath.

His attention felt heady as he stared at me.

For the first time in his presence, I felt hunted.

I licked my lips, my heart thumping unsteadily in my chest.

"The last supernova was discovered on February twenty-fourth in 1987," Felix told me, somehow holding my entire attention. I could feel the weight of his gaze tingling all over my skin, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my stomach jerk. "You were probably a child. I doubt you remember."

"I don't."

"It was bright enough you didn't need a telescope to see it."

"Oh." I blinked, then cocked my head, confused. "You talk as though you were there. "

"I was."

"But you…" I stared at him in disbelief, gaze dragging over his very young, very lovely face. There was no way he was a day over thirty. Right?

"I'm older than I look."

At a loss for words, and far too overwhelmed by Felix and his nonsense, I twisted to observe the rest of the room. I was here for murder. Not stars. Not pretty throats, or odd men who claimed to be older than they were.

Clearing my throat, I forced Felix's bullshit out of my head. "Where did the murder take place?"

"Oh! Yes. My apologies. Right over here." He gestured toward the bed. There was a jerkiness to his movements that I made a note to revisit, as I approached the bed with a frown. All his earlier grace disappeared, and he was a bumbling idiot again .

I did my best to ignore him, though that was difficult as I fumbled around in my satchel for what I needed. I'd brought my tools with me, a black light for one, and as I raised it to inspect the fabric I was surprised to find… nothing .

At all.

Huh.

"I thought you said there was blood."

"Oh," Felix's voice wavered. "I mean—there was ."

"But there's none here."

"I uh…" he sidled closer, staring at where the light illuminated a whole lot of nothing. "I guess there's not?"

"Did you clean it already?" Annoyed, I huffed at him. I had specifically told him not to touch anything. But…I supposed if he had, he'd done a pretty damn good job.

And if he hadn't…Well, that didn't make sense. He'd said there was blood, so how could there be none? Admittedly, I hadn't really gotten a good look at the body as I'd been preoccupied with getting it into the car. It'd been bagged up in garbage sacks, so there hadn't been a solid opportunity to gawk.

Now I wished I had.

Especially because now that I was thinking about it, I wasn't certain how to accidentally kill someone at all.

Every time I'd murdered someone it had been quite intentional.

He truly was an enigma.

Fascinating.

"One moment." I took several minutes to make sure that I was correct, that there wasn't anything to cover up at all. When I finished, I turned my attention back to the small-gremlin-man only to realize he was also staring at the spot I'd been inspecting.

There was a haunted expression on his face. I'd looked at him before that moment, yes. But I hadn't really paid attention. And now that I was, it became readily apparent how tired the poor thing actually appeared. There were papery bruises beneath his eyes. And his lips—despite the chapstick I'd applied—looked bitten raw .

"Are you…" without thinking, words spilled free, "alright?"

Felix blinked. He blinked again. He blinked a third time.

And then he did something horrible.

Something terrible .

The worst possible thing he ever could've done.

He began to cry.

"Oh." I didn't know what to do. Tears spilled down his cheeks, an awful, shuddery little noise escaping him. He ducked his chin down and away—like he was trying to hide—like he was ashamed of the emotion he was currently experiencing.

"I'm—okay," Felix hiccuped out, somehow. "Really. I'm just happy you're here. I didn't know what to do." More tears spilled free. "I apologize. This…" Felix waved at himself, encompassing the wetness probably. "Is not like me. It's been a trying day."

He'd said he was fine, so he was.

But he was also still crying.

Unsure what to do, I reached out, and gently patted his shoulder. He felt even more solid than he looked. A delicious span of muscle filled my palm as I gave him a gentle rub. "It would…be okay if you weren't. I am often not fine, and I survive every time."

There. That was a good thing to say, wasn't it?

"Thank you," Felix sniffled, pressing into my touch as greedily as a cat tipping toward a puddle of sun .

"If you don't normally cry, why do it now?" I frowned. Even I could connect the obvious dots here. It didn't take a genius to infer that a normal person might be at least somewhat disturbed after they'd committed murder. I assumed so, anyway. "Is it because of the man you killed?"

" I feel bad, " Felix stared up at me, a frankly pitiful look on his face. He tried to duck his head away again—still ashamed—but I latched onto his cheeks and yanked him back into place.

Once again, he reminded me of the dog we'd had growing up. Dogs liked to be petted, apparently so did Felixes. "I didn't mean to do it," his voice shook, vibrating my fingers. "He didn't deserve that."

"I believe you," I hadn't before, but I did now. I'd grown up with a truck full of sisters, therefore nothing frightened me more than a person who cried. I hated this. It made me uncomfortable.

But it also made me… well …

It made me see Felix as human.

I supposed I hadn't ever seen him that way before.

He intrigued me in a way nothing but death ever had. The fact that I recognized him, but couldn't place his face bothered me. I'd always had a spectacular memory. I could admit, my curiosity was most definitely piqued—especially after Felix had convinced me to leave his secret alone.

"Would you cry if he had deserved it?" I asked, because I couldn't help myself. Something itched beneath my skin. Something primal and needy. A beast, blinking awake. "Would you feel bad?"

Felix thought for a moment. A dark expression crossed his face, like he was remembering something, or someone. Someone he wished he'd killed.

Then he shook his head, lips pressed into a thin, serious line. "No…I…don't suppose I would."

I wasn't sure he would've confessed that to anyone else, as it was akin to approving of murder. But his walls were down, and by helping him, I'd whittled my way inside his heart.

My blood began to sing.

I looked at Felix in a new light then. Tears and all. A man who felt bad—not because he'd killed someone, but because he didn't feel they'd deserved it. A man after my own heart.

"I think I must be a bad person." Felix sniffed. "I feel bad, but I also feel worse that I involved you. What if you get in trouble because of me?"

"The only way I'll get in trouble is if you implicate me." I said it to be soothing, but Felix was not soothed.

"I would never ," his voice shook with vehemence, his tiny body quaking. I pulled him in by the grip on his face, unsure why I did it—only that I wanted the shaking to stop.

He was so little, his solid frame oddly chilly as I curled my bulk around him. Awkwardly, but earnestly, I gave his back a gentle pat.

"I would never, ever do that to you," Felix trembled.

"Thank you." Pat, pat. "I appreciate that. "

"You're a good guy, Marshall." Felix sniffed, getting his awful sadness juice all over my nice work suit.

I felt… bad .

Huh.

I felt bad.

Because this entire time I'd only been thinking about how entertaining this would be. Not once had it ever occurred to me that Felix might be devastated. That he might feel frightened—or alone.

He needs me.

Yes.

He did.

Curling tighter around him, I squeezed . His tears seeped cold and wet onto my shirt, his little body quaking. I inhaled the sugary lemony scent of his shampoo for the first time—and immediately melted. God, his hair was soft. I couldn't help but rub my face in it as I held him.

He smells so good.

I'd never held someone before.

Not like this.

Not to comfort them.

"Thank you," Felix said, curling his fingers in my shirt and further ruining it, this time with wrinkles. "I'm so s-sorry I dragged you into this. I just didn't know what to do. I've never—I mean. It was an accident . I got overzealous."

"It's fine." Pat, pat, pat .

I sniffed his hair some more, still nuzzling the silky soft strands.

One thing became certain as I benefited from our embrace, and Felix continued to leak all over me.

And that was the fact that Felix was wrong. I wasn't a "good guy." I wasn't even good-guy-adjacent. If he knew just how often I'd killed, he'd surely feel less guilty about involving me. He wouldn't feel like he was corrupting me.

But I didn't tell him.

I didn't tell him, because I was a no good, selfish, very bad man.

Because he felt right inside my arms.

And if I told him I was a monster, I didn't think he'd ever let me hold him again.