6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

F elix's yard was harder to fix than I'd expected. Yes, it looked awful—and I'd known that. But the true horror was hidden beneath the tall surface of the grass. There were ten-plus years of neglect to pick through—and I may be good at lawn management, but I wasn't Jesus.

It took me hours to get it chopped down to something manageable, and even then, I knew I'd have to split up the work into multiple weekends. Now that I'd taken on this task, I was quite giddy at the prospect of spending more time near Felix's home.

Maybe…if he murdered again, I'd witness it?

Besides.

I'd never minded a little hard work. In a way, working on Felix's jungle reminded me of when I'd been a kid and Dad had us working the farm. Typically, I'd been with the animals, and not with the crops, but the memory remained.

Dad and I were similar people. He had few words, a plan, and was adept at execution. We talked twice a year, on my birthday and on his. And that was how we liked it .

This was bringing up a lot of nostalgic feelings. Making me think about my family—about my sisters, and my mother. About relationships in general, and if I was fit to have one in the first place. I'd been told I was like a cactus, prickly and dry. But some people enjoyed cactuses. So that didn't necessarily mean I wasn't boyfriend material. Not that I wanted to be a boyfriend—I couldn't possibly shop for another person for Christmas. I didn't have it in me.

Or at least…I hadn't .

I'd never wanted one before Felix, so I'd never pursued it. And though I had a certain fascination with my neighbor, I wasn't sure I was even capable of being a loving, committed partner.

The only things I'd remained committed to for an extended period of time was my hobby and my friendship with Winnie.

Actually…huh.

Maybe that in itself answered my question.

I'd maintained a friendship with Winnie since childhood. Which meant I was capable of it, right?

Yes, she was my sister, but that didn't mean anything.

Plenty of people had horrible relationships with their siblings, and being blood-related to someone did not guarantee friendship.

Perhaps I had it in me after all?

Besides , Winnie liked me—and she was my oldest and closest friend.

At least…I hoped she did .

I texted her, suddenly worried.

Me: You like me.

Winnie: No I don't.

I glared at my phone, grumpily shoving it in my back pocket. I weed-whacked the back edge of Felix's lawn for another half an hour before checking my phone again. Surely, Winnie would've texted something a little more flattering by now. Maybe about how good a brother I was—and how important I was to her.

There was no such message waiting.

Just a simple emoji of a— was that —? I frowned, put the weed whacker down, and fished my reading glasses out of my chest pocket. With them perched in place on my nose, I was able to see the tiny emoji better.

I wished I hadn't bothered.

It was a little fist with the middle finger up.

Me: Fuck you.

Winnie: Love you too, baby bro.

It took me twenty minutes to flip through the emoji… catalog ? Thing. The thing with all the emoji options on my phone. Eventually, I found what I was looking for. Ha ! Take that.

I sent her a mirroring middle-finger icon .

A neighbor walked by on the sidewalk with her dog on a leash. She stared at me for a second, and I waved—not wanting to look too murder-y with my weed whacker in hand, and an evil grin on my face.

I missed whether or not she waved back because my phone buzzed.

Winnie had replied.

It was another middle-finger emoji.

Go-figure.

I replied back with two.

She sent three.

Stuck in a war I didn't want to be a part of, I nearly missed when a nondescript black van pulled into Felix's driveway. I saw it in my peripheral vision, however, and tugged my safety headphones off and around my neck, twisting to watch the new arrivals.

Who were these people?

And why the hell were they at Felix's house when he was asleep?

My hackles raised—but fell rather quickly when I realized these mystery men were actually the bearers of his package. Packages, more accurately—as he got the same giant box of what I could only assume was some sort of meat—at least once a month.

It was rather large, and quite heavy when I went to investigate after the men left.

Maybe it was nosy of me—but I could see the "refrigerate immediately" sticker, and as I had every intention of courting the box's owner, I was remiss to leave it behind. It was heavier than it looked as I hefted it across the street and into my garage. Luckily, I had enough room in my backup refrigerator to shove the box in whole, which I did.

Then I promptly forgot about it—

Because Winnie called me, and I had to spend the next half hour defending myself because I'd dared to try to wheedle a compliment out of her. I would not make that mistake again. She kept poking fun about Felix and our date—and by the time I hung up, I was a mess in more than one way. Covered in grass bits and sweat, I abandoned Felix's lawn for the rest of the day and headed home to properly clean up.

It wasn't till Wednesday that I remembered the package I'd taken.

And by that point…well…

It was too late.

Only two days remained until our date. I was practically buzzing with anticipation. I could feel it itching beneath my skin as I planned out my outfit—then replanned it—then planned it again. I didn't know what Felix would wear. I'd seen him in practically every shade of the rainbow, and as we were staying in, there was no way to anticipate his choice .

I'd just tried on my favorite indigo-sweater-vest-white-shirt-combo, when I spotted yet another unfamiliar car pulling into Felix's driveway.

Which…reminded me of the package I'd accidentally stolen three days ago.

Oops .

Without thinking, or changing clothing, I bolted downstairs to my garage to retrieve the box. I'd drop it off—as Felix was likely to be up now. If I knocked on the door, he wouldn't even know I'd taken it. And I could possibly—maybe interrogate his guest a bit too. Find out why the hell they were bothering Felix this late, and perhaps scare them off—never to return again.

It was a perfect, fool-proof plan.

Because I knew the box was heavy, I opened the garage door before grabbing the package. As it rose with a creak, I couldn't resist a curious peek across the street to Felix's home. The stranger's car was still there, and a man was climbing out of it with a sunny grin and—

Flowers.

Flowers?

Why in the hell does he have flowers?

Package forgotten, I stared as the man made his way across the sidewalk I'd just fucking trimmed, and up the steps to Felix's home. Was this…a date ? Why in the world was he at Felix's house ?

My eyes narrowed as I watched the stranger knock on the front door.

For a split second, I imagined crossing the street—quiet and slow—stalking in close, and snapping his neck before Felix had even known he'd visited at all. But…that daydream quickly faded as reality snuck back in.

I couldn't just cross the street and kill the man for daring to buy Felix flowers.

I'd get caught.

Therefore I had no choice but to will my hurt away.

The crushing weight of rejection was obnoxious. I had better things to do than wallow—even though I felt half-tempted to do just that.

Perhaps it was…sex?

Somehow that thought didn't soothe me, even though I knew sex was not on the table for us—even on our Friday date.

Christ, what was wrong with me? It wasn't like Felix had promised me his undying fidelity. We hadn't even gone on a single date yet. And besides! I had a code , dammit. An innocent man with flowers did not meet it.

Still though, that didn't stop me from imagining it again.

And again.

And again.

Is he innocent if he's talking to what's ours? It was difficult to ignore the beast inside me, especially when he had a valid point. No matter how hard I tried to rationalize that there was nothing untoward going on—especially after the stranger was let into Felix's home—I couldn't stop the burning heat of anger that simmered beneath the surface of my skin.

Especially as the night grew darker and darker—the stars came out—and the man's car had not. Left. Felix's. Driveway .

I was so close to heading over there, caution be damned, and bodily separating them—that I was forced to resort to drastic measures.

I called Winnie.

"What do you want?" Winnie's voice was a welcome irritation. This feeling was at least more familiar than the riot of angry, all-encompassing bitterness that had been eating me alive for hours now.

"He has a date over." Wow. I sounded awful.

I didn't need to say Felix's name for her to know who I was talking about.

Winnie paused, to process. As she should. This was horrific. Awful. Horrible. The worst thing that had ever happened. Something rustled on the other end of the line that sounded a lot like her awful beast—Buddy. "Felix has a date over?" She repeated carefully.

" Yes ." God, why was she repeating it?

"Oh, honey." There was so much pity in that single phrase I nearly threw my phone against the wall.

"Do not ‘Oh, honey ' me. This means nothing. We're not…dating. We haven't! Not even once. I barely asked him out." I was trying to convince myself, more than her, and I hated how obvious that was—and also how manic I sounded. " He can date whoever he wants to date, it doesn't mean our date won't happen—or that he won't find it special. Or that he'll compare me to the mystery man. Oh god, I need to get him flowers. I have to get him flowers! If I don't, I'll already be losing. I can't lose, Winnifred. I can't. I hate it. You know I hate it. I hate losing almost as much as I hate pickles. Do you think they're kissing? Oh god. No. No, no, no, no."

"Some people like to kiss."

"You bitch . How could you say that to me?"

"I'm just saying—" Winnie laughed, though her tone softened. "It's okay . There's no need to panic. It's not like he's over there getting married two days before your date. Maybe he planned this before you asked him?" She offered, obviously trying to make me feel better—and wisely ignoring my current downward spiral.

" Maybe ," I chewed on my lip, pacing my kitchen because it had the best view across the street. The car was still there. "But why ? Why must he date at all?"

"If he didn't date, he wouldn't have said yes to you." She was right and I hated her for it.

"But he was so reluctant—"

"…Yes…" Winnie sighed, "but he said yes, didn't he?"

"Then, is it just me he was reluctant with?"

"I don't know, Marshall."

My ego had never taken a hit quite like this .

"I…" Fuck. I sat down, chair scraping. The lights were on in Felix's teetering horror mansion of a home. " I don't understand."

"I know you don't, buddy." Winnie's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "You know what I think would help?"

"What?" Why was the stranger's car still there? Christ. It was eleven p.m.. That was far too late for visitors. If they were having sex I was going to—I don't know what. Scream ? Burn the house down? Bodily separate them with a yardstick? Slice Felix's date's throat open—then move Felix across the country and lock him away where no one could ever ogle him ever again. Somewhere so far away even Amazon couldn't deliver more stupid hats to him.

"Why don't you ask him?" Winnie's voice somehow filtered through my murderous, kidnapping plans.

"Ask…him?" That…hadn't occurred to me.

"Or, you know, you could just kill the dude. Get rid of the competition." Winnie was joking. I knew she was joking—because she was not a member of The Club . Not the literal club, or any sort of metaphorical murder club thereof. But that didn't make her suggestion any less appealing.

I didn't need to talk to Felix.

Ha!

Talking.

Fuck that.

No thank you.

"Murder is preferable," I deadpanned. Winnie laughed, oblivious to just how serious I actually was. "I'll use a machete."

"You do that."

"I will." I wouldn't. It wasn't safe . But…that didn't mean I didn't want to. I wanted to hack him up into itty bitty lipless bits—so tiny he could never kiss anyone ever again.

"MarMar," Winnie's voice was annoyingly gentle again. Like I was a child and she was trying to soothe me. "You do know that not everyone jumps into a serious relationship, right? Like…before they even go on a date? There's a process. And that process isn't always monogamous at first."

"I know," I scoffed.

"Do you?" Winnie kept talking. Because she was a flip-flop-wearing asshole . "Because you're really upset about this, honey. And I know that you really like Felix—and I'm happy for you. God knows, I never expected you of all people to like someone this much—"

"—Hey."

"But you can't expect him to follow rules when you haven't even told him what they are." I hated that she was right. "So talk to him about it? Yeah. Ask him what's up."

"God, you piss me off." I was not asking Felix anything. That would be humiliating. And honestly? I didn't want to fucking know.

"Love you too." Winnie blew me a kiss, then promptly hung up .

If I'd known exactly what Felix was up to, perhaps I would've been less upset. Jury's out on that one. Luckily for me, it didn't take long to figure out why the stranger had stayed so late. Because by the time the clock struck midnight I received an unexpected visitor.

Relief, unlike anything I'd ever known flooded through me the second I spotted Felix's familiar floppy hat through the peephole in my door.

I hadn't even seen Felix cross the street, which was…odd, considering the fact that I'd been glaring at his house for several hours now. Either he was faster than he looked—or he could teleport.

Yanking the door open, I did my best to act casual—and not like I'd been planning murder for the last three hours.

Act normal, act normal, act normal.

"Good evening." Boom . Done. Perfect execution. Yay me.

" I did it again, " Felix said by way of greeting, his voice rough. There were new tear streaks streaming down his cheeks.

I hated him a little then, because the sight of his tears didn't make me balk like they should have—instead, I wanted to bundle him up in my arms again, and hiss at anyone that approached.

Felix came across as a proud man. Old school. The kind of man who rarely cried—and yet here he was, for a second time showing me the underside of his belly. The parts that were squishy and soft, and easily broken .

It was difficult for me to find sympathy for a person who was all soft sides—as I'd been raised on hard edges. But Felix wasn't all fluff and no substance. In fact, I got the feeling that when he was with anyone else—he acted quite different.

I knew walls intimately, as I had dozens of my own.

And yet…here Felix was with his down, looking to me—of all people—for guidance.

Felix's eyes were visibly lighter in color than they'd been the last time I'd seen him. Blood red. Was it a medical condition? I'd have to Google that later. Or perhaps he was wearing colored contacts for his date. The thought made me grit my teeth.

"You did what again?" I asked, less charitably.

Felix licked his lips, his gaze flicking guiltily over his shoulder toward his home where the stranger's car was still parked. "I did… it. Marshall."

He was clearly hoping I'd guess what kind of nonsense he was talking about without actually saying it aloud. I was not a mind reader, but I tried to guess anyway.

He'd done what?

Had sex?

"I'll kill him." Visions of slamming a hammer into the asshole's head assaulted my senses. For a brief, terrifying moment I saw red. "I'll kill him—I swear to God."

"You can't —" Felix stared up at me, lashes spiky and wet. God, he was delicious. It was ridiculous . He pissed me off. So much. So needy—like an animal in pain that needed putting down.

Broken, broken, broken .

He needs me.

I can't kill him.

He needs me.

I can't.

Not if Felix doesn't want me to.

It was a horrible, wretched thing to realize that I cared more about Felix than killing the man who had touched him.

The thought shook me to the core as I took a half-step forward and grasped his face in my palm. Felix's skin was spongy soft and slightly damp from his tears. With need simmering beneath the surface of my skin, I tipped his head up, only sated when I could admire how beautiful his turmoil was up close.

Prettier than hurricanes.

Prettier than morning dew.

Prettier than the brilliant crimson of freshly spilled blood.

"Why can't I?" I asked, voice soft, my fingers digging into his cheeks. " Why can't I, sweetheart?"

Don't say it's because you love him.

Don't say it, please.

You're mine, mine, mine.

Felix shivered, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. His broad shoulders were hunched, like he was trying to make himself appear even smaller than he already was. Gone was the confidence he normally exuded. Like I was seeing—for the first time—the brittle, broken husk that hid beneath his person-suit.

And he was… lovely .

A pitiful, broken, tangled thing.

Felix's lips pinched into a guilty line.

Don't say you love him.

Don't—don't—

Oh .

And then it…hit me.

It hit me like a pile of bricks.

My cock jerked, butterflies fluttering around in my belly as my heart began to race. Heat coiled in my hips, at the same time I bit back a needy groan. Because I suddenly knew why Felix had said I couldn't kill his date.

And it wasn't because he cared for him.

My hand slid from his face, down to his throat, cupping him there to hold him in place.

"I can't kill him," I murmured, bending down close enough our noses brushed. My breath mingled with his, and something electric zinged between us. Greedy, greedy, greedy—I needed to hear him say it. Needed to hear him admit the awful, bloody truth as badly as I needed my next breath.

"Tell me why I can't kill him, Finley," I pleaded, nudging his cheek imploringly with my nose. Felix groaned . I could feel his Adam's apple bob beneath my palm when he swallowed. His lashes fluttered shut, as his strong, lovely hands moved to clutch the fabric at my waist. " Tell me why ," my voice was deep and hoarse.

" I …"

"Tell. Me."

I'd never been more aroused by a person in all my life. This wicked, wretched little man—so beautiful, so perfect. My tiny little accidental killer.

"You can't kill him…" Felix whispered, the tension in his body melting away as he opened his eyes—blood red—gorgeous—ringed by a dark fringe of curly lashes. "Because I…"

" Yes , sweetheart?" My heart was pounding.

"Because I already did."