Riders (Riders, #1)(12)

You’re not, Anna. Move on.

“We’ll just take it one day at a time. You know I never stopped caring about you.” He lowered his voice. “Anna, the others girls were nothing to me. They didn’t mean anything. Not like you do.”

No.… Did he really just say that?

I flew off the bed.

“Stop right there,” Anna said, the instant I crossed the door.

I did what she said and leaned against the doorjamb. Seeing Anna upset had sidelined my own problems for a little bit, but now that sharp, tangible buzz of anger was back, seething from under my skin. I couldn’t even fight it. This was about my sister. My self-control was under siege.

Wyatt gaped at me, taking a half step back. “Your brother is here, Anna? I thought he was hurt.”

“Sorry to disappoint, jackass.” Well, that came out. But I didn’t care. Wyatt might have been good to Anna in the past but he was taking advantage of that.

“I told you to stay out of this, Gideon,” Anna said.

“Yes! Stay out of this please.” Wyatt pushed a hand through his preppy hair. As a general rule, I didn’t like guys who styled their hair like they just woke up. Messiness should never be a goal. It should be a consequence. “God, Anna. I don’t think this is going to work. How are we supposed to talk with him around?”

“I didn’t know he was coming down here, Wyatt. I’m sorry.”

Was she actually apologizing to him?

You’re not sorry, Anna. You are pissed off.

Anna shook her head like she was shuffling her thoughts. “Wait a minute. You’ve been messing around with other girls for the past month and you’re mad that my brother is here?”

Now, that was more like it.

Wyatt frowned, clearly surprised by the pushback. “I thought we were trying to fix things, Pooh Bear. He’s going to interfere with that.”

“I’m not interfering. I’m just standing here.” I smiled.

“See? He’s already doing it. Anna, I thought you wanted to be with me. Maybe I was wrong.”

What a load of guilt-tripping crap. Don’t stand for it, Anna.

“This was a mistake, Wyatt.” She opened the apartment door. “I think you should go.”

Wyatt stepped toward her, turning his back to me. “I came here because I want you back in my life,” he said in a hushed voice. “But we’re never going to figure this out if you’re going to be irrational.”

Irrational? That sounded good to me. Let it rip, sis.

Anna slapped him across the cheek. Wyatt’s head whipped to the side. For a few seconds, no one breathed. We all just stood there, hearing that fleshy echo, until Anna said, “Leave, Wyatt. Now.”

He shot me an accusatory glare, like he suspected I was behind Anna’s actions. I was less suspicious. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d influenced Anna’s behavior. Somehow, I’d focused my anger on her and propelled her through the entire thing. But how was that even possible?

After Wyatt left, Anna fell back against the door. “What did I just do?”

“You took care of business. You don’t need that moron in your life, sis. You did the right thing.”

“I hit him.” She looked at her hand like it wasn’t part of her. “I slapped him.”

“You were nicer than I would’ve been.”

Anna shook her head, her eyes welling up. “That doesn’t help, Gideon.” Then she darted past me into her room and slammed the door.

I reached for the handle just as the lock clicked. “Open the door. Come on, Anna. It’s his loss, sis.” I could hear her crying inside—one of the worst sounds in the world for me. “Anna … let me in,” I tried again, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen for a long while.

Excellent. I’d succeeded in making her more upset. Now what?

Behind me, I heard the quiet scuff of keys as someone entered the apartment. That had to be Anna’s roommate, Taylor. The last thing I wanted was another bizarre social interaction, so.

I hustled to the balcony, climbed down, and took off.





CHAPTER 8

Like I said, moving helps to clear my head. Running’s always been something I’ve been pretty good at. It made RASP easier for me than for a lot of other guys. By easier I mean less excruciating. Sometimes around the five-mile mark, I hit the runner’s high. For me the feeling is actually mellow—real quiet and steady—but as I picked up a trail heading away from the dorms into the hills around campus, I doubted I’d find that steadiness. I had too much to figure out. The fast healing. The mystery metal on my wrist. My newfound ability to, what? Make people angry?

I already had that. I didn’t need to get any better at it.

Nothing made sense and I had nothing, no theories. I didn’t hit any mental dead ends because I didn’t even have roads. I ended up thinking about the months just before my dad died because that was a trick my brain liked to do, pulling memories from behind my ear and presenting them to me like a bad magician.

This one was a baseball memory, right after my last game junior year. My Jeep had broken down and everyone else had already gone home, so Dad and I were stranded at the field. We called Anna, who was bringing jumper cables in my dad’s work truck, then went back to the baseball diamond to wait.