Jaden (Jaded 3)

“Sheldon.”

At the sound of Corrigan’s voice, I turned. My legs fell to the ground, and then he was hugging me, just as tightly as Bryce had been. Both of them were my family. He smoothed a hand down my hair and back and murmured, his head tucked against the side of mine, “Are you okay?”

I nodded. I couldn’t talk, but I was okay at that moment.

Bryce said, “I was coming to bail you out. Denton, too, but when we got there, they said it’d already been posted.” He gazed around, taking in the estate and mansion. “This is your dad’s?”

Corrigan grunted. “Not so missing now, is he?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about my dad.” I paused. “Or my mom. Is there any news on the investigation?”

“Yeah.” Corrigan’s tone was somber.

“What?”

“That you did it.”

I swatted at him. “That’s not funny. I’m not laughing. I’m pissed.”

He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. “That’s all that’s on the news. It’s you, you alone who killed her.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Bryce said, “We know. I doubt they’d talk about anything else if it shed light on a different suspect. You’re a known name now. The police’s reputation is at stake if they find out someone else killed her.”

I groaned. A headache was starting. “I can’t handle this. I’ve been here for a month, and I’m already going nuts.”

“Your dad’s hardcore.” Corrigan sounded frustrated.

I wasn’t listening. The news was still all about me. What Bryce said was true. An anchor dropped to the pit of my stomach. They weren’t going to look for a different killer. They were going to pin it on me one way or another. I closed my eyes as a helpless feeling came over me. I was drowning, and I was going to die if I didn’t fight my way back to the surface.

I had to go back. I had to find who killed Grace.

Bryce had been watching me. He asked now, “Sheldon?” His eyes were narrowed.

I met them and shook my head. “We have to find who killed her. We have to, if they won’t.”

Corrigan let out a deep breath and raised a hand. “Can I make two suggestions?” He waited as we both looked at him. “One, we just got here, so can we wait a little bit? You don’t know what we went through to get everything cleared so we could even get in that car to come to you. I’d like to chill for the night, at least. And the other thing, can we not bait the killer to your house, and can someone else get stabbed this time? That really sucked last time.”

I grinned. A small chuckle escaped Bryce and me.

In that moment, that one split moment, it felt good. The three of us were back together. I took a little time to savor it, and then I decided, no matter what else happened, the three of us had to stay together. All the other shit was stupid.

CHAPTER FOUR

Once the excitement of having Bryce and Corrigan there had waned, the realization they were both there . . . at the same time . . . in the same room, filtered in and awkwardness ensued. Holy crap. The last few months had been tense anyway, but the last real communication with them had been when Bryce kissed me, and I left to cuddle with Corrigan in his hospital bed. I’d been on lockdown from almost everyone, and the times when I talked to Bryce or Corrigan hadn’t been about us. Grace. Corrigan’s health. Bryce’s soccer training. Those had been the conversation topics, and now, well, everyone knew the new turn in Grace’s murder investigation. Call me foolish, but I didn’t want to talk about it the first night they got there. What that left was what was going on among all of us and glancing at each of them, seeing the clenched jaw, fisted hands, tight shoulders, I knew they weren’t eager either.

“Well.” This was lovely. “Guys, want to get drunk and watch a movie?”

“Yes.”

“God yes.” Bryce groaned.

We headed for the basement. When I showed them the movie theater, Corrigan’s eyebrows went up. “Sheldon, this is a real theater.”

I nodded. “My dad’s rich.” I paused. “Really rich.”

The screen was mounted on one entire wall with leather couches set up in eight rows. Each end of the couch had a chair that lounged back and placeholders between the couches for drinks and snacks. Opening a cupboard, blankets were folded and piled high. I gestured to them. “If you guys get cold.” Then I indicated a set of closed closet doors in the back of the room. Opening them, a bar was exposed with glasses hanging on the wall, and a good selection of beer and alcohol stored below in the refrigerator. Blue lights displayed the bar, so if the room was dark, we could still see what alcohol we were grabbing and pouring.