Kate just smiles. “Oh, we’ve got plenty. Your friends will love hearing we’ve got all your ramblings and threats on tape.”
Keith’s eyes flick between Kate and Frankie. “But Sam promised—”
“Don’t care,” Kate cuts him off. Finally, he kneels.
Cuffs click.
I can’t help myself. I take a step forward, looking at Keith. “By the way? You kept calling Xaden my ex. There’s nothing ‘ex’ about him. He’s myboyfriend. And he’s going to make sure that you and every last one of your horrible friends end up in prison.”
My voice is steadier than I feel. But I draw strength from my own words, like the mere idea of Xaden makes me stand a little taller.
Kate marches Keith out, reading his rights.
Frankie’s almost out the door, too, shotgun lowered. He gives me an oddly intense look. “You mean it? About Xaden?”
“Of course. We just had a blip.”
Frankie almost smiles. “You did good, kid. Kept your head.”
His words pull me back to his garage. I remember watching Xaden bend over the hood of a truck, muscles flexing under his shirt. I used to visit him at Frankie’s when he was helping around, thinking I’d happily spend the rest of my life handing him wrenches I couldn’t even name. Xaden didn’t care that I was useless around cars, he liked me there. Once he smeared grease on my cheek and told me that got me covered. “You look like a pro mechanic now, although much cuter than average.” That made Frankie groan and Eli tell us how Xaden’s mom used to make him blush just by smiling a certain way.
Now, standing here, blood still roaring in my ears from how I just stood up to Keith, I realize something: maybe Frankie’s been rooting for me all along, in his own gruff way, just like he’s been rooting for Xaden.
Frankie slips out, and the sudden silence drops like a weight.
My tea is still cold. My hands still shake.
This was just a taste of the danger Xaden’s been through.Every day.Taunts, threats, walking the wire between blowing his cover and staying alive.
Trying to deal with the loss of his dad. All the while thinking he lost me too.
I can’t wait to see him.
I want to tell him I love him. Respect him. Miss him. Want him.
For the rest of my life.
“Just a blip?” A tired voice from the hall makes me whirl around.
“Xaden?” He’s smiling faintly, but his face is bloodied. His shirt’s untucked, collar stained dark. For a second I think it’s just shadow. Then I realize it’s not.
It’s blood.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He tries to grin, but he staggers, catching the doorframe. His knuckles leave a bloody smear as he fights to stay upright.
“Xaden!” I repeat, but now my voice is a panicked crack. He gives me another stubborn half-grin, but it slips when he sways again. This time I’m already there, catching him as his knees buckle. The weight of him folds me down to the floor with him, my hands slipping against his blood-soaked shirt.
Not a gunshot, I realize through the rising panic — cuts, bruises, but no gaping wound. Still enough blood to make my heart stop.
“You’re bleeding,” I choke out.
His lips twitch. “Just a flesh wound.”
“Don’t joke,” I whisper, gripping him tighter. Then his eyes roll back and he goes slack in my arms.
XADEN
I’m barely aware of what’s happening. My torso feels like it’s on fire, my face one big throb. The adrenaline's leaking out fast, leaving me shaky, light-headed, heavier than my own body.
