His face darkens, jaw clenching so tight the muscle jumps. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“’Cuz I refuse to take advantage of you when you’re vulnerable. When you’re traumatized and not thinking straight.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” I step toward him and he steps back, refusing to bridge the gap. “You’re just as attracted to me as I am to you, Silver. Are you going to pretend you’re not? I’m a woman—I can sense things! I felt it when we kissed. I feel it every time you look at me. I felt it last night when you held me.”
“It’s time for you to go,” he growls, his eyes flashing with anger. He scoops up his truck keys from the counter and starts for the door. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”
“I can get myself home,” I say coolly, refusing to back down. Refusing to accept anything from him when he won’t be brave like I am. I pass him by on my way to the door, then stop long enough to let him know, whipping back around. “You’re a coward, you know that? You’re afraid of what people will think.That’s what your problem is! You care more about what our friends and family’ll say than you do what you want!”
He grits his teeth, his hands flexing open and shut at his sides. “That’s not?—”
“You act like you care about me, but you only care when it’s safe. When you can be the hero from a distance. But when I’m standing here, telling you I want you, suddenly I’m too young, too vulnerable, too something. You find all the excuses in the world, but you know the truth like I do!”
I yank the door open, then stop yet again for one more last word. “I know what I want, Silver. I’ve never been more sure of anything. The question is whether you’ll ever be brave enough to admit you want it too.”
I storm out into the night, leaving him standing in his front hall, the same conflict burning in his gaze.
19
SILVER
I spenddays covering any tracks Kel’s sudden disappearance could leave behind. First I buy a one-way bus ticket from Wheaton to Albuquerque with his only credit card. Then I spend hours on Kel’s phone, crafting the perfect digital trail. Texts to his friends saying he needs to “lay low for a while” and damning messages to Spencer specifically about deleting the videos and pictures in case anybody catches on. Emails to his professors about an alleged family emergency. Even going so far as to break into his house when nobody’s home and pack a bag for his trip.
I pay a junkie around his age who bears a resemblance five hundred bucks. His job is to put on one of Kel’s hoodies, keep his head down, and board the bus to Albuquerque using Kel’s ticket. The security cameras will show somebody who could maybe be Martin “Kel” Greene skipping town.
But even with all these steps I take and more, there’s still one loose end to tie up. Probably the most troublesome, irritating loose end of all.
Ozzie and I sit outside Kel and Spencer’s house at two a.m., engines off, watching the dark windows. We’re both wearing skimasks rolled up like beanies for now. This needs to be quick, violent, and memorable.
“Ready?” I ask.
Ozzie grins. “You really gotta ask? You know I’m always good for handing out an ass whooping.”
We shove our ski masks the rest of the way over our faces and move to the back door. I’ve already figured out how to pick the lock from the last time I was here a few days ago, packing the bag for Kel.
We slip inside silent as shadows, navigating by memory from my previous visit. Spencer’s room is at the end of the hall, the door cracked open.
He’s dead asleep, mouth open, snoring. He’s sleeping like a damn baby.
That’s about to change.
“GET THE FUCK UP!” I bark in my deepest, most intimidating voice.
At the same time he jerks awake, Ozzie snatches him up, tossing him to the floor like he’s not a grown-ass man. He lands in a tumble, disoriented and drowsy, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. But before he can even really peer up at us, I’m driving my boot into his face.
His nose crunches under the heel, a shriek of pain leaving him.
“What—?” he chokes on his own panicked breath. “I didn’t do nothing!”
My boot connects with his ribs. I don’t hold back, going for a second, third, fourth kick ’til he’s curling up and shielding his head.
“God, please! I don’t even know who you are!”
My boot keeps raining down, doling out more punishment ’til I nod at Ozzie and he drags him half up off the ground. He holdshim in a chokehold, keeping him upright despite the aches and pains we’ve already given him.
I whip out my.45, cocking the hammer. The click sounds jarringly loud in the dark, quiet room.
