I ran a finger over the earring. One of the stars had a sharper edge than the rest. Proof that it was made by an amateur jewelry maker, there wasn’t another earring like it anywhere, and it had been crafted specifically for me.
I found myself standing. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here,” Jasmine said with a wink.
Once I’d traded my cards for my crutches, I limped over to the back door. I saw Charlie through the glass. He leaned forward against the porch railing, staring at the garden and the still-falling rain. There was a faded logo on the back of his ball cap. He always wore the same one. I’d never asked him about it before. It was part of him, like his scowl and his skateboard, something I stopped noticing after a while. But there had to be a story there. Another facet to the enigma that was Charles Campbell.
It was awkward, opening the door and stepping out while balancing the crutches, but I wasn’t afraid of the conversation we needed to have. I didn’t have to know exactly how he felt about me. If we hadn’t scared each other off yet, it meant we’d be together for a while. There would be plenty of time for us to be more than friends. Later. When he was ready.
He half-twisted to look over his shoulder when I shut the door behind me. His eyes briefly met mine before he turned back around to face the yard. His ears were pink.
“Wanna tell me about the hat?” I asked, biting back a smile.
“What about it?” he murmured.
I limped forward until I was standing next to him. There was an inch or so of free space between our elbows. “It’s old but you still wear it every day. There has to be a reason.”
He squinted out at the rain, deliberating. “The first murder we helped my uncle solve,” he said after a time. “A college kid named Peter Higgins was found outside his dorm building, having mysteriously fallen to his death. I overheard my uncle talking about it with the other detectives, trying to get a second opinion. Everyone wanted to rule it as a suicide but I knew there was more to it than that. I’d seen the guy get pushed by someone.” He rolled his shoulders. “Jasmine and I had only lived with my uncle for six months. I didn’t know him that well. He was still coming to grips with our curse. I was afraid he wouldn’t take me seriously so I kept it to myself.”
He snorted. “Of course, Jasmine knew there was something off about the case too but she wanted me to make the first move, wanted me to decide what kind of relationship we’d have with our uncle, whom we both knew was going to be our new guardian.” Charlie lowered his voice to ask, “Were we going to be guests or family?”
“She’s wicked smart, your sister.”
Charlie nodded. “All the evidence supported the theory of suicide but, before my uncle could put the case to bed, I approached him. I knew I’d be letting a killer get away if I didn’t at least try to tell Uncle Vic what I knew. If he decided to ignore me...well, it would suck, but at least I’d have a clear conscience. So I told him everything I’d seen in my vision.”
“And he believed you,” I assumed.
“Something in the scene I’d described stood out to him. He reanalyzed the crime scene photos the next day and found this baseball cap on the floor near the window where the victim had supposedly jumped.” Charlie grinned with pride. “Peter Higgins never wore hats. Uncle Vic checked out the guy’s social media posts and even searched his dorm a second time. There weren’t any pictures of him in hats, not a single one stored anywhere. So who did the hat belong to?”
“The killer.”
“The victim’s best friend,” Charlie said with a nod. “Apparently, they’d been together one night, getting high, and there’d been an argument. They’d left the window open to get rid of the smell. One hard shove was all it took and Peter Higgins fell out. Uncle Vic didn’t have to push very hard to get a confession. The killer spilled his guts after sitting in the interrogation room for a few minutes.”
“And you kept the hat,” I said, glancing up at it, “because…?”
The pride was gone, replaced by insecurity. Charlie leaned back as far as his arms would let him, and glanced down at the wood planks beneath his feet. “It’s a reminder.”
“Here I thought I’d have to drag it out of you.” I elbowed him. “A reminder of what?”
He straightened up and deadpanned, “I have a purpose. I’m good for something. This curse has its benefits. Being abandoned by my parents was worth it. Take your pick.”
I nodded solemnly. “Makes sense.” After a pause, I added, “I’m sorry about today.”
He looked away. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Even Jasmine could tell I was throwing myself at you and she’s a recluse. It was unfair and uncalled for. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“So you’re all right with us just being friends?” He asked the question slowly, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched, while looking at me from under his lashes.
So. Damn. Cute.
I shrugged and did my best to sound nonchalant. “As long as we’re in each other’s lives, I’m happy.”
A smile started forming before he smothered it. “I didn’t realize you were so easy to please,” he finally said.
“I’m a very agreeable person,” I replied. “Ask anyone.”
He didn’t laugh, just kept watching me in that quiet, drinking-me-all-in sort of way. Then he ran his thumb over the flying pig and stars arching over my
