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While I wait, I glance around. It’s a good thing the road is covered in mature vegetation, with the houses sitting well back from it, requiring long driveways. This particular accident couldn’t have possibly happened in a better spot. Not only are we at least a half acre between houses, but the overgrown foliage makes it nearly impossible for nearby cameras to have caught this.

My eye catches on an electrical junction box at the bottom of the hill at the end of her street. It’s the perfect spot to aim the van in order to cause an explosion. If I execute this perfectly, it might work.

Making effective use of my time, I open the security system monitoring and scrub all stored footage of us leaving from existence. There’s no digital footprint left. I’ll do the same with the rest of the footage, and we can blame the inevitable blackout.I also grab the driver’s manual from the glove box and stuff it in my back pocket for later.

It’s going to be important we make an appearance at the ice cream shop so our alibi is firm. How morbid. Ice cream after murdering her ex-boyfriend. And yet I’m not overly bothered by it. Honestly, ice cream seems like it would provide the right closure. I’m looking forward to comforting her. We’re even more connected now. She’ll always remember how I helped her through this. It will be our secret—another thing that brings us closer. I table my thoughts for later as Vivienne returns carrying the gloves, and criminal Cas takes over.

“I don’t think I can see him, Cas. I’m not going to be able to help you,” Vivienne says as she hands me the box.

“I don’t want you to help. Touch nothing and put your gloves on just in case,” I instruct firmly. “Go stand where you won’t be able to see. And if you don’t watch, no one can tie you to this because you won’t know what actually happened.”

She’s on autopilot, still processing. I place my hands on her shoulders and kiss her forehead. She crumples into me. I wish like hell we had more time. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go back to your place and get your car? You can pick me up so we can get that ice cream,” I mumble, forcing myself to focus on cleaning up the mess.

She doesn’t argue. She shuffles to the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself. I snap my gloves into place and prepare to move Jackson into Van-dina. RIP to both of them. I think I’ll go backto sports cars after this. Who am I kidding? After this I won’t even be able to rent a scooter.

I round the van. Jackson looks pretty gruesome. He’s not overly bloody. It appears he snapped his neck, and since he’s wearing a hoodie and pants, the road rash didn’t tear him up that bad. I need to make the accident appear convincing enough that none of the officers dig deeper. It’s all about misdirection. Unfortunately, I’m a master.

Carefully, I scoop Jackson up and stagger back to the van. Luckily I’ve been hitting the weights pretty hard to pass the time. Jackson is a lot heavier than I expected him to be, but I manage to get him in the driver’s seat. Once I have his arms shoved into the steering wheel to maintain the correct direction of travel, I allow the rest of his body to slump forward.

I hope this works,I think, as I light the manual on fire then toss it on Jackson’s lap. I’d really like to ensure Van-dina explodes, starting a fire on impact. Even better if it’s burned to an unrecognizable crisp.

It’s now or get caught and go to jail. Time to launch this thing. I move Jackson’s deadweight foot on the gas. The engine revs as I reach in and shift the car into drive. I watch as Van-dina accelerates perfectly right for the power grid. The world feels like it’s moving in slow motion as I wait for the inevitable crash. A few seconds later, there’s a loud boom. I can feel the ground shake from the explosion. Electricity flows through the air, and fiery balls of flame blaze.

Behind me, Vivienne honks. I run to the passenger side and climb in. “Perfect timing. Let’s get some ice cream.”

As we drive through the neighborhood, it’s clear the grid is out. Stoplights are flashing as we wait to turn onto the main road. The ice cream shop isn’t far from her house, but the power outage slows everything down. We drive in silence. Vivienne is completely locked in on the traffic.

“Colorado traffic really sucks,” I say, trying to crack a joke and loosen the tension. Really, anything to get our minds off Jackson.

She laughs. “Colorado traffic is horrible on a good day. On a bad day, it’s a fucking nightmare. Getting home will be worse. It’s already rush hour.”

That’s my girl. Laughter is a good sign she’s going to be okay. Maybe a little traumatized—but we’ll get through it together. “Good thing I don’t mind being trapped in a car with you,” I say smoothly.

She glides the car into a parking spot. Even at the ice cream shop, the power is out. She scrounges in her center console for a second before pulling out a wad of crumpled cash. I look at her like she’s crazy. “What are you going to do with that?”

Vivienne shrugs me off. “It’s my emergency stash. If the power is out here, how will we pay?”

“You think I don’t also carry emergency cash?” I joke accusingly. “Put your crusty, sticky car money away.”

She drops the handful of questionable money back into the pit of doom, aka her center console. “Rude. It’s not even that sticky.”

I roll my eyes, “Sweetheart, if I were a stripper and you tried to tuck that money in my man-thong, I’d politely decline.”

Vivienne snort-laughs hard. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. I have so many questions about the man-thong, though.”

We climb out of the car, and I hold the door for her. The second it swings open, the mouthwatering scent of homemade waffle cones and sugary sweetness overpowers my senses.

“Hi there. Our card machines are down, and so are the blenders. I can only take cash and offer scoops from the menu right now. I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” the older gentleman behind the counter says without looking up.

Vivienne pops out from behind me. “That’s okay, Walter. We have cash, and you know I always order an upside-down cone.”

“Vivienne,” he whistles. “Who’s this handsome guy?”

“A friend,” she says sweetly with a wink.

My hair on my neck stands up, and I bristle uncomfortably at the word. Friend is not how I want to be referred to. I guess I need to make it clear that’s not what this is between us.

Walter grins in understanding. “So you want the usual then? Sprinkle or no sprinkles on the cone today?”