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“It’s cold. Where’s your jacket?” I snap.

“Wilde didn’t exactly give me time to prepare myself.”

“You should always be prepared.”

He snorts. “Okay, marine.”

Somehow this little runt of a thing makes the word sound like a slur. Ignoring my instinct to take the front of his tank top and slam him into a tree, I turn around and walk back into my house instead. Nothing I have will fit him, but at the very least, he won’t be so cold he becomes a liability, so I grab the first hoodie off the folded stack and take it out to him.

Sasha looks at it like I’m handing him a bomb. “What the fuck is that?”

“Put it on.”

Those annoyingly blue eyes flick up to meet mine. “You’ve put something in it, haven’t you? Itching powder? Poison ivy?”

I’d point out that poison ivy doesn’t grow around here, but before I can—despite his words—he takes the hoodie and pulls it on anyway. Once again proving that he fails at life.

“What would you have done if there was itching powder in there?”

He lifts his chin again. “I would have been itchy. Duh.”

Duh? I swear steam should be coming out of my ears. It’s like he’s lacking self-preservation on purpose. “Just try to keep up.”

I take off toward the forest, and it’s not until I’m halfway there that I realize that Bob has followed me, but Sasha hasn’t. “What are you doing?”

He throws his thumb back over his shoulder. “The crop fields are that way.”

“You can tend to the crops when we’re back. I have things I need to do this morning.”

“Great. You not being here is even more incentive to stay.”

If I trusted him to look out for himself, he could. “I can’t leave you here alone, so you’re going to have to come with me. The faster we leave, the faster we can return.”

He takes some measured steps toward me. “Hmm … which is worse? Spending time with you or manual labor? I think it’s too close to call.”

“Good thing I’m not giving you an option.” As soon as he’s within reach, I take his upper arm and pull him along with me. It doesn’t do anything for my frustration, though, because all I can feel in my grip is just how scrawny he is. I’m going to have to do something about that.

“Fine, fine, I get it.” He tries to tug his arm away from me, but I hold firm. “I’ll follow you into the creepy woods. You don’t have to drag me.”

I’m not sure I can believe him, but at least if he bolts, I’ll know he’s not a complete lost cause.

Except when I let him go, he sticks right by my side.

Just like Bob.

“How do I know you’re not going to murder me out here?” His voice has taken on a sulky tone.

“You think I’m going to murder you, and you’re following me anyway?”

“Not like you gave me a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Wow,” he breathes, voice barely louder than the early morning breeze. “You’re giving me more mixed messages than my last boyfriend. Not that he was much of a boyfriend. More of an evil tormentor than anything.”

I whirl on him, and Sasha stumbles back a step. “What did he do to you?”

All I get in response is a slow blink of those big eyes. “Let’s just say that between you and him, only one of you has tried to kill me.”