I ambadfor her.
The jukebox guy roars, grabbing Rhea by the arm. She twists and drives her knee straight into his groin. He drops with a choking sound, both hands between his legs.
The third one, the one who’d been leaning close to her earlier, snarls. “Bitch, you don’t know what you just did.”
Rhea just crouches beside me, slipping her arm under my shoulder. “On your feet, Talon.”
“Rhea—” I grit my teeth. “Go.”
“No.” Her eyes blaze, sharper than I’ve ever seen. “I’m not leaving you here.”
And just like that, I get the worst kind of déjà vu known to man. I see her face bleeding into Lark’s, two ghosts overlapping. My heart shrinks three sizes and I swear I could just die right now and save us both the trouble.
But she pulls me up anyway, my legs jelly, my brain screaming, my body leaking. We stagger toward the back.
Behind us, the tall one scoops up the gun, screaming, “You’re dead, ginger! And you—” he spits, “—you’re gonna regret this till your last breath, bitch!”
“Guess we’ll see,” Rhea shoots back, voice sharper than I ever heard. She kicks open the kitchen door and drags me through.
We tumble into the alley, where the night air knifes my lungs. Cold bites. Blood steams. Everything smells like metal and winter and pain.
Everybody I know hates winter. I think I hate itmore.
My knees buckle. Rhea catches me, barely, and shoves me down against the wall. Then she tears off her apron and slams it against my side. Hard.
“Why the hell would you do that?” she hisses, pressing down until I see stars. “Say that shit to them? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Her hands are warm. Too warm.
Feels… nice. Dangerous kind of nice.
I tilt my head back so I can see her properly. Long lashes, blurry neon, her mouth pinched tight with fury she didn’t know she had. If I’m dying, I’ll give myself the courtesy of a last good view. She’s a good view.
“Yeah,” I whisper, blood on my tongue. “I guess I am.”
She mutters something under her breath. A curse. A pretty one. She cannot even curse properly, this girl. And God help me, even bleeding out, I can’t help thinking—
If she’s the last friend I get before I check out…
At least I didn’t fuck this one.
At least I didn’t drag her into my bed and ruin it.
“It really looked like you had a death wish back there,” she adds, still shaking.
“What would you do if I had?” I breathe, half-smirk, half-collapse.
She presses the apron into my side like she’s wringing the life back into me by force alone.
“What would you do if I had?” I push again.
I want to hear it.
I don’t even know what.
I just like talking with her about everything and nothing.
She leans in so close her forehead almost touches mine. I can feel her breath ghost my lips when she answers:
