ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 35: modus vivendi

      “I’m sorry about my Mum I had no idea she was going through male withdrawal after being dumped,” I say softly. “I was kind of glad you arranged our parents to meet, I thought it’d bring Mum and Dad back together―it worked, sort of, at least Dad didn’t get up and leave.”

      “I think we’ve both reached a point where cutting family out of our lives is necessary, though Robert is trying his hardest there are times where shutting him out is the only answer,” Sam sighs. “I’m still surprised that Nadine and Georgia didn’t strangle me yesterday; it seemed like they’d gotten over Dad’s death quicker than me. However, bringing Mum into the picture was a terrible idea on my part.”

      “At least you’re re-knitting the bond one thread at a time,” I say, moving my gaze from the web of mysteries tacked to the ceiling of Sam’s bedroom.

      He nods. 

      We talked most of last night about all of the cases he’d spent hours sifting through and webbing together to create a map of his mind. Half of them are Greg’s old files starting at meagre break-ins to unlawful disturbance and homicide. The red string lost its tautness near the window and a piece dangles down in front of the thick curtains; it’s safe to say that we survived Christmas by the skin of our teeth and find comfort in voicing our hatred of our own families to each other at 5 A.M.

      Sighing, I take hold of the hand that’s casually draped across my stomach and bring it to my cheek, enjoying the feel of his soft skin against mine. His hands, larger and manlier than mine, have a gentleness about them, much like a woman’s. These hands have no capability to kill or lay harm on another person despite what his profession claims. I can’t imagine Sam beating people senseless in a drug bust or restraining others with such force they leave purple indents and weeping crescent marks.

      I close my eyes, relishing the feel of Sam against me. His chin, which gains the prickle of a five o’clock shadow, gazes my forehead as he plants a lingering kiss between my brows. I place a hand on his chest and absentmindedly run the back of my knuckles against his black Quantico shirt, allowing my fingers to brush past the neckline to his partially exposed collar bone.

      The bone juts out slightly and Sam gives a breathy laugh, it’s one of his many ticklish spots. I find my lips quirk up, continuing the motion until Sam gets used to the sensitivity. After a while of silence, I lift my head up from between his bicep and chest and look at him. It’s still dark in the room and neither of us can be bothered to turn on the lamp, but a hoard of butterflies emerge from their dormant cocoons in the pit of my stomach as he smiles at me, so softly that I would’ve guessed he was asleep but Sam rarely ever allows himself to rest.

      “Speaking of family, I’ve been thinking about Quade’s background,” Sam murmurs.  

      “Any theories?” I frown.

      “Well Dad used to tell me about this bright kid at the Academy, a complete introvert. Turns out it was Oliver Quade, he pushed himself to the limit with every drill and exercise, he never talked to anyone his age and tried to socialise with the Special Agents more than his one instructors,” he says. “He had a fascination with renound serial killers and folklore, though, nobody in the department considered it unhealthy.”

      “Quade can’t be Q,” I say, “like you said before, it’s too predictable.”

      “I know, and all we have are allegations, tatted bits of evidence that we just can’t stick to him,” he says.

      Gingerly, his fingers comb through my hair and slide down my upper back before he starts from the top of my crown again. It’s at the very early times of the morning, when numbers hold no concept and words mean everything, that I leave my hair out. I don’t know what’s so fascinating about it, but Sam won’t stop playing with my fringe or the ends of my hair―it’s like a cat with a tantalising toy. Since I’m more on my side, his fingers move lower down my side before retracing their steps back up to my hair.