New York is safe. Boring, maybe. Predictable. But safe.
And right now, safe sounds pretty fucking good.
“I’ll drive you.”
I turn to stare at him. “What?”
“I’ll drive you to New York. We can take my bike or rent a car if you prefer.” He shrugs like it’s nothing—like it’s not a fifteen-hour drive, like he didn’t just offer to spend an entire day with me after I literally fucked his brains out and ran away this morning. “Your choice.”
“Bones—”
“You can’t fly. You need to get to New York. I can get you there.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s something in them that makes my chest tight. “Let me get you there, Em.”
This is a bad idea. I should figure out another way to get home. I could rent a car myself, take a train, call Kya and see if she and Lee want to do a road trip. Literally anything that doesn’t involve being trapped in a car with Bones.
Not when my head is a mess.
Not when my body is still replaying last night.
Not when I’m furious about the tracker.
And grateful he found me.
And furious about that too.
And I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore.
“Why?” I ask instead.
“Why, what?”
“Why . . .” I shake my head because the words aren’t lining up. The question doesn’t want to form. So I go with, “Why all of it?”
He’s quiet for a beat. “Because I’m the guy you call.”
Damn it. He’s right.
“That doesn’t mean I want to be rescued. Or stalked.”
Bones grins—just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, but sometimes you do, so I’m covering the bases.”
I want to be mad, but the bastard is immune to shame, and somewhere in the tension between my ribs I want him here.I want him doing exactly what he’s doing—putting himself directly in front of my panic spiral so I can push off him and not drown.
I run a hand over my face, palm gritty with old makeup and dried-up tears, and force myself to pull it together.
“Fine,” I tell him. “But don’t think I’m forgiving you.”
“I would never.” He pushes upright and plucks my bag off the floor. “C’mon, swan. Let’s get you home.”
Swan. He’s called me that since I was nineteen and told him I’d gotten the lead inSwan Lake.Most people assumed it was about ballet. But once, late at night after too many beers, Bones told me it was because swans look graceful and delicate but they’re actually fierce as hell and will break your arm if you fuck with them.
I think it was a compliment.
I look at his offered hand. Thirteen years of him showing up. Thirteen years of him barging into my disasters and making them worse and better all at once. Thirteen years of loyalty and lies and protectiveness so intense it starts to look like obsession.
No wonder I’m a mess.
I take his hand.
