“Too bad. I think you are.”
“Why?” I blurt again and run the back of my hand across my wet cheek.
“You watched me pass out, throw up, and beg my best friend for another hit.” I shrug, though I’m not sure how much my shoulders actually move.
He continues after a beat filled with nothing but a sniffle from me.
“Then you didn’t look at me any different after.”
It sounds so loaded that I peek out of the hoodie through my mess of hair and the hood.
There’s a wet streak down his red-spotted cheek that catches my eye, and he sniffs. I’m not sure if he can tell that I’m watching him as he shoulders the trail away and clears his throat.
“So why don’t you come out of there, yeah? Lemme patch you up and show you around. The house is still empty for now.”
The shine to his eyes screams something that his words aren’t saying, and it makes my throat feel thick.
And though I want to askwhyagain for so many different reasons, I don’t.
My jaw feels too stiff to move around the words.
So, I tilt my head in what feels like a nod if it weighed a hundred pounds and let the fabric fall away from my face. My hair clings to my damp skin and lashes, getting into my mouth.
Hatley glances over at me, his shoulders rising with his inhale and then he—
Bursts out laughing?
“Jesus, Em, you look like you just stuck your dick in a light socket.”
I should be mad at the sound, perturbed by his mirth, but I’m not.
It’s actually kind of a nice sound …
Do I sound like that?
He pushes to his feet and dusts off his ass even though there’s nothing there, then holds his hand out to me with his lips stretched into a smile.
I shake my head and push to my feet on my own. It makes my head spin and my ears pulse.
He doesn’t seem to mind the dismissal, and I’m really glad he doesn’t.
“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let’s leave the demons on the floor.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I nod and follow him anyway.
Chapter 39
Tristen
The sharp stench ofburning flesh never really leaves you.
Once you know what it is, what it sounds like, feels like, you can’t get it out of your head.
Even though I’ve treated it a thousand times, I still can’t help the roil of my stomach as I snatch onto Noah’s disintegrating uniform and yank.
“C’mon, youbastard,” I yell through the pain in my ribs and pull, my boots slipping on the slick tile.
Flames lick above us, read hot and angry as all fuck as the flashover steals the oxygen andgrows.
