Compromise

"You have been very helpful, Mrs. Anguilla. One last thing, you wouldn't happen to have any cameras around your property, would you?" I asked the ancient woman lounging in a very puffy armchair in front of me.

Her wrinkles had wrinkles, much like a Shar-pei dog. Each crevasse twisted in thought for a moment. "I'm sorry, dear, I don't. I haven't owned a computer since 1975."

I figured as much. When I had asked for her cell number, she gave me the extension for a landline—nobody used landline anymore. Regardless, I bit back a sigh of disappointment out of fear of being rude. "That's no problem. Thank you for your time." My palms rubbed against my jeans to unslick them of nervous sweat as I stood.

"Anytime, dear. What happened to Gary was a travesty. Do your best to catch the monster that did him in, will you?"

"Of course, Mrs. Anguilla." I smiled and opened her door with effort. A horrific wooden squeal painfully rattled my eardrums thanks to the cracked foundation making the house and its openings crooked. I nearly had to plant my foot on the outside door jam of the house to fully close the door with a click.

The rain hadn't died down in the slightest since I had entered the old woman's house, threatening to soak Jace's hoodie in bitter cold rainwater. Thankfully, I spotted the detective's car through the pummeling sheets from beneath the awning. He was already stepping out of the car and coming around the passenger side to open the door for me.

My insides fluttered at the familiar sight but I ignored the sensation.

With tucked shoulders, I took off down the concrete staircase through the waterfall cascading from the overflowed gutters above. Deep puddles splashed under my Converse—I should have taken that as a warning to slow down but the message was received too late when I suddenly lost traction and slipped backward onto my ass with a yelp.

Only feet from where Jace stood.

"Oh, shit. Are you ok?" He crouched down onto one knee and helped me sit up.

I groaned with flaming cheeks. "Yeah, I'm good. At least there weren't any cameras around to catch that."

He laughed aloud. "Fuck, really? I would've loved to have that as my screensaver back at the office." I glared up at him but fought back a laugh of my own. He scooped me up under my arms until I was back on my own two feet where he released me.

"Thanks." I slopped off water that soaked into the hoodie sleeves. He ushered me into the passenger seat before slipping into his own with a sigh. His molten gold locks were saturated in cold rainwater that dripped down onto the leather backrest behind him.

"I thought you said you had a jacket," I exclaimed, brushing off droplets that stuck to the leather of his coat.

"I do." He motioned to the one on his shoulders, but his goofy smirk told me he knew of his deception.

"You're gonna get—" my words were cut off by his sudden sneeze, "sick." Great, a sick detective is exactly what the world needs right now all because he decided to be stubborn.

"I'm fine, I don't get sick." The sentence was immediately followed by a shiver that racked his shoulders for a moment. He flicked on the heater. "What did you find? You said there's no cameras, after all?"

I gave a dejected sigh and unzipped the massive hoodie before peeling it off and setting it on the floorboard. He watched every movement, making my skin tingle, but not from the cold. "These people barely have functional phones, let alone cameras. Nobody saw anything either, so I'm sad to say we've hit a dead end over here. What about the orange rose?"

He cleared his throat and smoothed his hand over one side of his jacket. "Apparently, orange roses aren't natural, they're bred. And the lady said an order like that would have been circulated through each shop but they stay away from those orders because they're a hassle. She basically told me not to bother checking out other stores for that reason."

My brows stitched together in thought. "So our suspect is a gardener? One that can manipulate the genetics of plants?" The idea sounded ridiculous but I supposed it was possible. He shrugged as if he believed the same and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

I narrowed my eyes. "Is there anything else?" He was acting strange and his eyes seemed distant while his hand rested on his chest.

"Uhm," he hesitated with a swallow. "The lady gave this to me and I figured I'd give it to you." He unzipped his jacket and pulled something from the inside pocket. A pink puff on a green stem was pinched in his fingers as he extended it to me.

My heart somersaulted over itself at the sight of a soft pink dahlia. The petals created a whirlwind of symmetrical circles that was both chaotic and orderly. I looked up at Jace, who stared back with anxious eyes.

"For me?" I asked in a whisper. He only nodded as I plucked the flower from his fingers, our skin brushing against one another in a small tingle of electricity.

"Thank you," I said as sincerely as I could muster and threw myself against him, wrapping my arms around his neck. The sudden movement made his breath stop in his chest before he relaxed and rubbed his hands up my back.

"Don't make it weird, princess, it's just a flower," he chuckled jokingly but pressed his palms into my spine.

I tightened my arms until I could feel our hearts beat together in unison against each other. "Just a flower to you, my first flower to me," the words came out in a whisper. I raised the plant to my nose and inhaled the sweet aroma. His heart sped up enough for me to feel it against my sternum. I released him and planted a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

A dark red blush crept along the bridge of his nose for the first time. "I just—I know how badly you wanted to go to the shops instead of the neighbors. I thought I'd bring you back something and that's what reminded me of you. Both intricate and beau—uh, you seem to like pink," he stammered and raked his fingers through his hair in a way that was beginning to make me believe he was nervous.

"Jace, I love it," I reassured.

"Good, I'm glad," he shrugged nonchalantly but the ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he threw the car into drive. "You ready for lunch?"

"Absolutely not," I said, earning a raised eyebrow from him. "I just fell on my ass in the world's largest puddle and you're going to come down with something if we don't combat it ASAP. Let's just go back to my house and order chinese, that way we can review our clues in private."

"But we made a deal—"

"To reiterate, my jeans are soaked through to my panties and you look like you got pulled out of a lake. Fuck Pasta Palace, the Golden Rabbit sounds better anyway."

He smirked and a fire lit behind his eyes. "You need help getting out of them?"

I blanched and my mouth fell open like a fish. "Stop that," I hissed and swatted his shoulder. He laughed and focused back on the road.

I couldn't help but feel fuzzy on the inside—and perhaps the puddle wasn't the only one to blame for the state of my panties.

I was jostled from my trance among the spiraling petals when the car jolted into park right beside my apartment lawn. I was dreading going back out into the rain without the protection of his hoodie. Not to mention I was worried that the detective himself was getting sick.

Jace turned his head to look at me with a deep sigh. "Ready to make a run for it?"

"Did you not just watch me horrifically fail right in front of you?" My skin flushed under my long sleeve from embarrassment.

"Oh, no, I did, don't worry. But I got you this time," he said and tapped under my chin with a finger before quickly hopping out of his car door in a sprint to my own. The door clicked open and a rough hand extended down to me while his other shielded his eyes from rainfall. I took it and he squeezed as we hustled down the walkway.

I knew he was only holding my hand to keep me from falling, but the sensation felt nice. I wasn't used to physical touch and I've never held hands with anybody other than Simon in our youth but this felt different—better even.

My shoes squeaked on the metal steps as they tried to keep up with Jace's boots taking double steps ahead of mine. I hadn't realized we made it to my door underneath the porch roof until I crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped solidly around me to keep me from falling down the stairs.

"Whoa," he exclaimed with swaying legs as he righted himself. His gaze peeked over the railing to the concrete below. "Look at that, we made it without you falling on your ass."

"Thanks for that," I said with an eye roll and spun in his grasp to my front door. He went rigid against my backside before quickly removing his hands. The lock clicked open and the door swung to allow us in.

I silently cursed myself—my apartment wasn't the cleanest. Several loose articles of clothing littered the living room along with throw blankets and a multitude of shoes I had kicked off in exhaustion after a long day.

"Don't mind the mess," I mumbled and threw my backpack onto its hook by the door while setting the dahlia carefully on my shelf.

His eyebrows were raised high in surprise as he took in the state of my living situation. "This is not what I expected."

I collected my clothes and a few pairs of shoes and promptly shoved them into my open bedroom door where I knew the damage was a little worse.

"I know, I know. It's been a very busy week." It was only a half truth. Yes, I wasn't home as much as I usually was but I was ashamed to admit that this is how I lived comfortably. It wasn't bad per se, just…untidy. I never had to worry about men coming into my space, other than Simon who occasionally poked fun at my strewn clothing and dirty dishes in the sink.

"I get it, princess, being busy is my entire life." He strolled around to the couch while I shuffled things around. "This though, I particularly enjoy." I looked up at where he stood—a black lace bra hung in front of his face from one finger as he inspected it.

"Jace," I hissed and snatched the garment from his hand with burning cheeks. He held his hands up in surrender before shoving them in his jean pockets and continuing his stalk through the space. "Sit down before you find something you're not supposed to find."

"Oh, god, don't tempt me. Do you have a vibrator hidden in the couch cushions somewhere or something?"

I froze. Did I? My brain racked over the possibility while also taking mental inventory of my things. "No," I answered uneasily. He scoffed an incredulous laugh with shocked features. I rolled my eyes. "Just sit."

He plopped down on the couch and shook out his hair like a dog, splattering me with thick drops of water. A smirk plastered against his face when he looked back up at me.

"I needed to change anyway," I sighed and shuffled to my bedroom.

"I'm gonna order Chinese food, what do you want?" he shouted from the living room.

I pulled my shirt over my head, grateful to get out of the constricting turtleneck. My bruises practically sighed in relief. "I'll owe you my life if you get me egg fried rice," I called back through the door, shoving my soaking jeans down my legs followed by my ruined panties. The white bra I wore unclasped with a snap and fell to the floor. My entire body became littered in goosebumps once the air hit my exposed damp skin.

Dirty scenarios started flashing behind my eyelids. I could imagine Jace walking in without knocking and touching me the same way he did in the woods this morning. Memories of his touch made my flesh buzz where his hands had been. My fingers idly trailed over my stomach, but my touch didn't feel the same. They moved up between my breasts to my jaw where his lips left invisible scorch marks so close to my mouth. A whimper threatened to leave my throat when an ache throbbed between my thighs where we had desperately ground against each other.

A knock sounded at my bedroom door, snapping me back to the dimly lit room. "Clary? You alive in there?" Even his voice made my core tighten.

"One sec," I yelled and slipped on a pair of loose white joggers and a pink v-neck tank top. I forced my head to shake away the buzzing in my body.

God, I needed a joint.

I flung open the bedroom door and was met with the temptatious devil himself, leaning against the doorframe with his signature smirk. His gold gaze raked down my attire, which didn't help the persistent ache. To top it all off, my braless nipples hardened under my shirt, immediately grabbing his eye where a fire suddenly roared behind them.

I'm trying to prevent my body from taking exactly what it wants, he had said in the woods with the same fire. The flaming eyes turned angry as they crawled to my neck to peer at the bruises circling my throat. Swallowing nervously, I quickly slipped past him to the kitchen.

My hands opened a cupboard full of vitamins and medications before clutching a bottle of cold prevention pills. The bottle soared through the air as I tossed it to Jace, he caught it with one hand and downed a couple.

"How much do I owe you for the food?" I asked with my back turned. The flower took my visual attention as I snatched it from the shelf to place it in a vase.

"Don't worry about it," he replied from far behind me. His eyes bore into my back.

I nodded in thanks. "So our suspect is a gardener—theoretically, of course. What if he knew Thompson's neighborhood didn't have surveillance? Would that mean he cased the house before he struck?" I turned back to him with my hands on my hips.

He flopped back onto the couch with a grunt and lazily slumped with spread legs. "I'm beginning to think it's one of two things: Gary was just in the wrong place at the wrong time or, like you suggest, he was targeted for having no familial connections."

"You don't believe it was personal intent," I said as a statement rather than a question. I made a wide berth around his knees before sitting on the opposite end of the sectional, my legs stretched out on the chaise.

"Possibly," he said distantly. "He's a widow with no next of kin, no siblings, no parents. He lived alone. He could've been targeted for those aspects, as if whoever killed him wanted no one to miss him but he might've been used for a bigger picture. Or our suspect just got lucky."

"So we're dead in the water until another murder happens." I rubbed my hands down my face and paused in distaste. "For lack of a better expression."

"It's only a theory, princess. It might not even be a serial killer situation."

My face twisted in frustration at the lack of clues to the case, but my inner irritation was extinguished at the sound of my doorbell that inevitably held my food behind it. I sprung up before Jace could and bounced on the balls of my feet excitedly as I swung open the door and grabbed the food that was left on the doorstep. Droplets of rainwater blotted the paper bag, I brushed them off with a flick as I sat back on the chaise again.

"Gimme that." A large hand snatched the bag from my hand before shuffling the contents around and palming two fortune cookies. "These first. Here." He tucked one into my hand.

"A Fortune cookie? You don't strike me as superstitious," I mumbled with a raised brow, unwrapping the golden cookie from its cellophane.

He shrugged. "Nothing wrong with giving fate a chance to chime in every once in a while." A crack sounded between our fingers at the same time, giving way to a slip of paper between the halves. He plucked his out first and twisted his lips in disappointment.

"Verdict?" I asked, smoothing mine out.

"Fate doesn't know shit," he sighed and tossed his paper on the cushion between us while stuffing the entire cookie into his mouth.

All things are difficult until they are easy, the paper said in red italics. I raised a brow. I never understood the extremely vague slips of papers and their riddles. Fortune cookies never garnered my attention in general.

I looked down at my own red font and read aloud, "'Trust your intuition. The universe is guiding your life.' Oh lord, what does that even mean?" I rolled my eyes.

"Maybe it means to listen to your body's reactions," his voice held a knowing smirk.

"No idea what you're talking about," I uttered and tossed the slip beside Jace's.

He sighed in exasperation. "You know we can talk about it."

"I know." I pulled a white paper carton of fried rice from the bag. "But I'd rather talk about something else."

"And why is that?"

"Literally anything else, Jace," I deflected, my eyes trained on the tv that began playing a random show while I spooned the rice into my mouth.

"Fine, I'll bite. Anything else and you'll answer honestly?"

I nodded and hummed in confirmation.

"Why don't you drive?"

That made me freeze in place and swallow the lump in my throat. "I was in an accident," I replied, feeling confident that he wouldn't pry.

"And?" Fucksake, I should've known he would pry.

"With the way my brain works—you know this—I remember things very vividly. Which means anything traumatic is equally vivid, if not worse. Every time I'm behind a wheel, I relive what happened and it terrifies me."

"Can I ask what happened?"

I sighed and set my carton onto the end of the chaise before tugging my knees to my chest, my appetite fizzled out like a dying flame. "When I was fifteen, Simon had just bought his first car and offered to teach me how to drive it since it was a stick shift, but we had to do it secretly. So at 1am, we snuck out. I drove around just fine for an hour or so, but I guess I took a bend around a mountain a bit too hard or too fast and we flew through the metal barrier over the edge. When we finally stopped rolling, we were upside down, hanging from our seatbelts by one shoulder. There was broken glass everywhere and blood was dripping out of Simon's mouth but the way he looked at me—I must've looked pretty bad, I felt pretty bad. My dad was so pissed and my mom wouldn't stop crying—" I snapped my mouth closed and I visibly flinched.

That had been nine years ago, three years before she was caught and arrested for the murder of seven people. I was sure she had already been halfway through her spree at that point, yet she seemed so normal.

I remembered her face as clear as day. She was there not even five minutes after Simon gave the call. Her expression was horrified as she watched him carry me up the mountain back to the street. Valentine was working late that day so when he showed up in his cruiser with an ambulance in tow ten minutes later, he was red with rage until he saw the state of our injuries. My collarbone had been shattered where I had hung from the seatbelt, making my arm lifeless and detached looking as if the skin was the only thing holding it to my body. Simon had a pretty bad concussion, split lip that needed two stitches, and bruised ribs for weeks as well as a completely totaled car he had only just bought a month prior. Guilt had gnawed at me everyday since.

"It was completely my fault. He told me to slow down and I almost killed both of us because I didn't listen," I finished and gave the detective a weak smile.

He shifted over to the middle cushion beside me and grabbed my hand in his. "It wasn't your fault, Clary. It was just a domino effect of events."

"I promise you that no matter how many times I hear that, I won't believe it. Simon has been trying for years," I scoffed bitterly at my own self resentment. My head thumped back against the backrest.

He laced his fingers through mine, startling me slightly. "I'll gladly say it everyday for the rest of my life if I have to."

Tension swirled between us as we stared at each other. My cheeks warmed and my heart started to pound harder under the fire. He swallowed and his eyes shifted down to my lips and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but the gold orbs flicked down to my throat.

"Will you tell me what happened to you last night?" His eyes were desperate and the hand that was laced in mine gave a squeeze. The blood that had accumulated to my face drained down to the pit in my stomach with an anxious twist. I shot up from the couch, tearing my hand from his hold and rubbing my palms on the legs of my joggers.

I raked a hand through my hair and shoved the other into my back pocket. "Uhm," my throat closed and checked my watch—the time just hit 3pm and Eugene Rec Center was an hour and a half away. "I have to leave real soon so I have to get ready. I'll see you on Monday?"

He visibly deflated but masked it almost instantly as he stood. A ghost of a scowl tipped his lips and I felt myself curl inward at the fact that I had made him angry. His legs made long strides to the front door but he hesitated in the open doorway.

I found myself hoping he would turn around, force the truth out of me, but his shoulders raised and lowered in a sigh before he left—shutting himself out physically like I had just done to him mentally.