Poor Riley. Poor fucking Riley. All that trauma, and the fates had given himSeth? It didn’t make any sense. Seth wasn’t special. He was normal, maybe even on the verge of boring as he got older.
How washesupposed to be the consolation prize?
Seth hurried down the hallway, a palpably forlorn Riley following behind him. Down the stairs they went. Somehow, despite how slowly Riley was moving, he was always only a step behind. Those were some horror-movie-level stalking skills he had.
Seth held his breath as he walked through the front door, half-afraid the house might somehow decide to keep him in its clutches. But it didn’t. He made it.
He exhaled sharply when he was safely in the fresh air. Riley finally stopped in the doorway.
“Come by the bakery when you’re feeling better,” Seth found himself saying, as if Riley was recovering from a cold and not having been temporarily murdered. “I’ll save you an orange scone.”
He was down the porch steps before he could get a chance to see how devastated Riley looked. Or maybe Riley wasn’t devastated at all. Maybe Seth was pulling off a very chill and very casual retreat after all, and it onlyfeltlike he was practically sprinting in the other direction.
Too much, too much, too much.
Seth threw himself into his unlocked car, shoved the key into the ignition, and turned it.
Nothing. Not even a sad engine whine.
Seth tried again. Had he forgotten how car keys worked in his abject panic?
But no. Nothing.
He tried again. And again. When he was still met with nothing, he slapped his palms against the steering wheel, too flustered to even wince with the sting. “Are you fuckingseriousright now?”
He sat there, panting heaving breaths, as two figures approached his dead-as-a-doornail car. One tall, one short. Both beautiful. Neither of them Riley.
The moms.
Seth climbed back out of his car with every scrap of dignity he could muster. Which was, frankly, not very many scraps.
Daphne’s face was the perfect picture of sincere sympathy, Sybil’s more of a blank mask behind her. Riley was nowhere to be seen.
“Engine troubles, darling Seth?” Daphne asked.
They had to know. About him. About Riley. About…them. Riley and his moms were a close trio, and if Seth had felt capable of reflecting back on things, he was sure he’d find that Riley hadn’t been subtle.
Still. The engine not responding could be coincidence. Batteries died all the time. “Could I—” Seth cleared his dry throat. “Could I ask for a jump?”
Now Daphne’s face transformed into the perfect picture ofregret, her pretty brow furrowing. “I’m afraid we don’t have the proper cables.”
Seth narrowed his eyes. “I do.”
“Do you?” Sybil asked mildly.
He did. He was sure he did. Seth took jerky steps over to the trunk of his car. He shifted the various bric-a-brac, lifting the floor to where the cables lay beneath.
Except they weren’t there. Of course they weren’t. Seth wilted, his shoulders sagging.
“No luck?” Sybil called.
Seth took a breath, let it out. He shut his trunk with a grimace. He reminded himself that accidents happened, and that things got lost, and that he needed to be polite to the bloodthirsty beauties. “Could I ask for a ride home?”
“Oh, we never drive at night,” Daphne told him.
The statement was so absurd it took several long seconds to penetrate Seth’s brain. “I’m sorry?”
She waved a hand toward the trees. “The elk are so unpredictable, you know. We’d hate to hit one by accident.”
