Delgado’s shoulders tensed.He stared at the fog on the glass, his breath drawing a vapor curtain over the world outside.The light flicked on, blazing; he turned, trying not to blink as it stung his eyes.
“Justin.”She didn’t sound happy.There was a raccoon-mask of yellow-green bruising over both beautiful green eyes, and the bridge of her nose looked swollen.She had her purse, was digging in it.Had he frightened her?Couldn’t she tell he was in here waiting for her?“We’re going to town, some emergency snack cravings.You… um, you want to come?”
How does she manage to do that, rob me of every good, sensible, logical thought?He closed his mouth with a snap.A green and white shirt with a teddy bear printed on it stretched across her breasts; the bear had a four-leaf clover painted on its belly.
She pushed stray strands of pale hair back, tucking them behind her ears.Then she ducked into the bathroom; he heard movement, the clatter of something dropped in the sink.
She reappeared, sliding a second earring in—a silver Celtic cross, swinging gently.“Justin?”she prompted, pulling the coat up over her shoulders, purse safely stowed underneath.“Cath wants Pop Tarts and I was thinking of a cheap bottle of wine and some Cheetos.Brew says he has to return some movies, and Yoshi wants a beer.Are you coming?”
He managed to find his voice.“Do you want me to?”I sound like a teenage boy.He took a step away from the French door.Please, Rowan.Forgive me.
She shrugged, her face closing, the glitter draining from her eyes.“You don’t have to.”Someone knocked on the door.She turned away, her bootheel scraping on the floor.
“I’ll come,” he said.“Just let me get my coat.Can I?I mean… Rowan?”
“Well, then, hurry.”She tapped her toe, cocking her head.“I didn’t think you’d be up here.”
“I was waiting for you.”He ripped his jacket off the hanger and shrugged into it, automatically easing the coat over his rig.“I’m sorry.I’m an idiot.”
“I know you’re.”She turned again, sharply, pale hair flaring in a luscious wave.“Comeon.”
It was a good thing he was wearing his boots.She might have left him behind otherwise.
Brew and Catherine waited in the hall, Brew’s wire-rim glasses glinting.“You coming, Del?Good thing Henderson’s getting the van.”There was an edge of uneasiness to his clipped accent.
Catherine threw Delgado a pointed look, eyebrows raised, and slid her arm through Rowan’s.
Rowan’s hair glowed.Del searched for something polite and normal to say.“Well, I’ve been wanting to go into town for a beer.”It was the only thing he could think of.
Rowan and Catherine were heading down the hall already, arm in arm like schoolgirl chums.
“Come on, mate,” Brew said.“Beer it is.I’ve talked the ladies into stopping by a little bar on Sixth Street.You can buy her a drink and try your luck.”
“Am I that transparent?”Del muttered.
“Not to most.Don’t worry, she hasn’t said a word about it.”
“Great.”That could mean she’s too angry to speak.
“She even insisted we come up here and see if you were in, so we could invite you along.”Brew’s white teeth flashed.He rolled his shoulders under his bomber jacket.“A good sign, eh?”
“Maybe.”Del kept his tone clipped.How about that?Five minutes ago I wanted to smash everything I saw.
Now I feel like laughing.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
Rowan’s headacheintensified as they took the freeway into the city.Henderson drove, Brew rode shotgun; Rowan had settled in the middle row window seat, Catherine and Yoshi beside her; Justin and Zeke shared the back.Catherine chattered, Yoshi hummed an odd discordant song, and Rowan tried to listen to Cath through the pain forcing diamond needles through her head.
Then, as if she had passed through a wall, the headache faded between one mile marker and the next.Rowan let out a short breath, feeling Justin’s silent presence in the seat behind.
It was comforting, she had to admit.They had started calling him “Rowan’s shadow”—she’d heard it whispered, behind her back.It seemed they weren’t so scared of what she could do anymore; she had become a known quantity.
All the uneasy glances at her were a result of Justin’s presence.
He shifted, and she felt the movement.Trying to keep him out of the corner of her mind he usually inhabited was impossible.Even when he didn’t press, like this entire afternoon, she still felt him like a nagging, lingering toothache.
Only he didn’t hurt; if she tried to block, he was simply… still there.Like a phantom limb.
