Despite the feisty woman between us, neither of us was willing to break eye contact first. Not until Raven clasped my tender jaw in her hand and forced my face in her direction. “Enough.”
I could see it in her eyes, beneath the exhaustion. The fear. I nodded and she sighed in relief.
When I looked back at Reaper that coldness had been replaced by something far more intense. He said nothing as he glared at me,then Raven, then turned and shouldered passed Bryce as he walked off and left us.
“You sure you’re not interested in him?” I scoffed when he was out of ear shot.
“Not even if he had the last dick on earth. Now let’s fucking go.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Once we made it to the bikes, I reached into my pocket for my keys, only to come up empty. My heart sank to my gut, lower. They were gone.Everythingwas gone. My keys, wallet, phone, and… my father’s lighter.
“Who took my shit?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Bates, probably. He was the only one with you. We were a little preoccupied with the others,” Raven answered.
My head was already pounding as I tried to make sense of that. I don’t know what he thought he’d gain from taking shit that had no value to him, but Mason fucking Bates was officially on my kill list.
There were sirens in the distance, growing louder, closer. “We have to fucking go, we can get your shit back later, Dex.”
Bryce and Raven lingered anxiously for the time it took to hot-wire Delilah. I gave her a silent apology for the treatment, and then we were off, heading away from the noise and the lights and back to Port Skelton.
By the time I pulled up at the house, I was fucking exhausted. I needed to find Mason. I needed my shit back. I had spare keys for my house and bike inside, and I could replace everything in my wallet. I’d even be okay if I couldn’t get Dad’s phone back. But there was no replacement for that lighter.
thirty-one
Jonah - Past
YOU COULD NEVER HURT ME.
It was late when I finally heard the familiar sound of Dex’s motorcycle roaring down the street and into the driveway. I felt stupid just waiting around for him to get back. I wasn’t sure if I should head back to Dad’s or stay here. If I stayed here, was I supposed to wait up or go to bed? What would he expect me to be doing?
The longer the night dragged on without him returning, the more my anxiety over what I should be doing faded to anxiety over what he was doing. The phone call had revealed three names: Cupid, Bull, and fucking Bates. Bates was the more pressing concern. I didn’t know what Dex dealing with him meant—how much danger he’d be putting himself in.
Bull didn’t seem like much of a threat, but Cupid—“my favorite Stray”—I didn’t like him, not one bit. I knew Dex well enough to know it couldn’t have been Bryce, or Archer, certainly not Toby. Henrik was Hound, and Raven was… well, Raven. So who was Cupid? How many more of them were there?Doesn’t matter,I tried to tell myself. I really did. But my mind kept circling back. I wasn’t stupid. I knew Dex had slept with other people before me. Probably a lot of other people.
Every time I thought about it, I was filled with this big ugly feeling that scratched at my insides and made me feel reckless. Like there was anything I could do to change his past. I knew it shouldn’t have mattered, really I did, but I hated that other people had seen him how I’d seen him. Felt his touch like I’d felt his touch.
It wasn’t rational for me to be mad about him fucking people before he even met me, but I wasn’t rational and he knew that. So this was on him.
So there was that, and there was the increasing worry that something had happened to him and that’s why he hadn’t come home to me.
Hearing his bike alleviated the latter, and I was ready to be unreasonable about the former when he walked in. Only, when I caught sight of him, it all vanished. All thoughts of being intentionally difficult so he could prove yet again why he wanted only me faded. Because he was hurt.
“What the fuck happened?” I asked, on him before the front door was even fully closed. His eyebrow was split, so was his lip, his cheek was puffy and bruised, and there was bruising on his neck.
“I’m fine, Rabbit,” he sighed, but as my hands cupped his face, he melted into the touch. Like my hands alone could soothe away all the hurt.
I held him there, my thumb lightly tracing over his cheek. “You have a first aid kit?”
“I’m fine, reall—”
“Do you have a first aid kit?” I snapped again.
“Bathroom.”
“Okay.” I nodded, reaching for his hand, threading my fingers between his and pulling him upstairs to the bathroom.
