Midnight Hour (Shadow Falls: After Dark #4)(29)

“Odd that it happened to both of us.” He took a step closer. “Let me help you.”

She offered him her signature eye roll. “I think you’ve seen enough.”

He grinned. “Not really. But I was going to tie it facing you so I wouldn’t … see anything else.”

“Oh.” Her face flushed.

He moved in close, close enough that his natural scent—a little musky, a little like wind—filled her airways. Her skin tingled as if just his

scent could heighten her awareness of being a girl. A girl close to a boy. Close to a boy who made her heart sing and cry at the same time.

He reached around her neck to find the two strings. His fingertips touched the curve of her neck and her first instinct was to lean into him.

To bury her face on that soft spot of his shoulder, to beg him to hold her, to pretend that he’d never left. That he hadn’t taken her heart

with him.

She closed her eyes. Her sinuses stung.

“One down. One to go.” His voice sounded as jittery as she felt.

He lowered his hands down, reached around her waist to get the other ties. As he searched for the strings, his palms brushed against her lower

back. Each soft touch sent another chill slow dancing up her spine.

His soft breath came against her neck. His chest came against her breasts. She became aware of every inch of her body and where it came to his.

“Done.” He pulled his arms from around her and inched back. Not far, they were almost as close as two people could be without touching. And

yet it felt as if they still were … touching.

Swallowing a lump of raw nerves down her throat, she glanced up. She had a thousand things she should ask him, but she couldn’t think of one.

She forced herself to step back. Finally able to breathe, the air still birthday-cake sweet, she formed one of the questions. “What kind of

trouble are you in?”

His brows tightened. “What do you mean?”

“Burnett sent Della and Kylie to check on you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, but she could swear she heard a hint of a mistruth in his voice. “I ran into them, halfway here. Everything’s

okay.”

“I thought you were with your parents?” She moved over to her bed and pulled herself up.

“I am.”

“Then why were Burnett and Holiday worried?”

His hesitation told her she hadn’t imagined his white lie. The corners of his eyes tightened with a barely-there frown.

“I … stumbled on something happening that Burnett needed to know about. And as soon as I figure it out, I’ll hand it over to him.”

“What kind of something?”

He didn’t answer.

“Is it illegal?”

He nodded.

“Is it dangerous?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You sure?” She didn’t ask if it involved his parents. She knew. It was the look, the lost-little-boy look he got whenever he talked about

them. The dull pain in his eyes said what he wouldn’t. He was hurting. Even more now than before.

Hadn’t they hurt him enough already? Anger swelled inside her. She almost reached to hug him.

“I’m fine,” he said. His eyes widened. “They were right?”

“What?”

“The tattoo on your arm. Della told me about it.”

She glanced down. It was back. Even bigger. “It’ll go away. It did before.” She hoped.

“You don’t know what it means?”

She watched as the swirl pattern moved higher, past-her-elbow high. “No. I’m clueless.”

“Do you think the witch could have put a curse on you?” he asked.

“I’ve never heard of a tattoo curse.” She looked up and their gazes met, locked, and it started hurting again. He’d left her and just

within a few minutes she felt it all again. All the things he’d meant to her.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I told you. I thought you were hurt really bad and you called me.”

“So the only reason you came is because you thought I was dying?” She regretted the words, and the attitude in which she’d said them, the

nanosecond they spilled from her lips. But damn it. He’d hurt her.

“It’s not the only reason.” He glanced at his feet, shuffled them around as if hoping they’d kick up some words he could use. Finally, he

looked up. “I know you’re seeing Shawn and I’m not asking you to … to break up.”

Was he really saying this? “You left me. You left me twice.”

“I know. Look … what I’m asking is if we can … be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah. Could I come back and see you sometimes? I wouldn’t try anything.” His lips fluttered again, forecasting a smile. “Next time you

walk into a room and start taking your clothes off, I’ll try really hard to speak up.”

His humor was lost on her.

“I promise to keep my hands to myself. We can just talk. We used to talk all the time. I miss that. I’d come back every week or so. What do

you think?”