Rules of Survival(26)

With a sweeping gesture, he said, “Your castle awaits. Which one will it be?”

I skimmed the long row. A green one at the end caught my eye. It was perfect. There were pristine white shutters that surrounded the two large windows, and intricate latticework around the door. And just below the roof, there was a mock balcony with a host of colorful flowers and leafy greens. I imagined that life here, had it been a real house, would have been perfect.

Mom and I would enjoy relaxed evenings on the balcony, the fragrant scent from the gardens wafting past as we sipped iced tea and gossiped about boys. Then, after it got dark, we’d head into the kitchen and dish some more over pints of ice cream, staying up ’til all hours until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore.

“That one,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat, my imaginary future crumbling.

We took one last look to be sure we were alone, then slipped inside. Shaun closed the door behind us and let out a sharp whistle. “Well, shit. I guess the movers didn’t get here yet.”

“No tip for them,” I said, sliding down the wall in the corner. The moon was nearly full, so there was just enough light shining through the window to keep us from being completely in the dark.

Shaun slid down beside me. He was shivering, but I knew better than to try to give his jacket back. I’d tried twice already, saying we should share it at the very least, but he insisted he was fine.

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I assumed Shaun would do the same, since we’d both had one hell of a day, but he didn’t. “I slept in a ton of these things when I was younger,” he said after a few minutes.

I opened my eyes. His head was tilted back, aimed at the ceiling, and his eyes were closed. He looked so much younger in that moment. Not a smart-ass bounty hunter in training. Just a guy. Someone lost.

Like me.

When he told me Patrick took him in, he specifically left out why he’d left home to begin with. I knew how it felt to have secrets so I wouldn’t push, but I didn’t mind filling the silence. If I found out more about him as a result, then all the better. Knowledge was power. “Before Patrick found you, you mean?”

“Yeah. It was January during a snowstorm. Spent an entire week in one. Not the best planning on my part, but I was a kid.”

“Planning is overrated,” I lied—said it with a smile, too. I was proud.

He opened his eyes and turned toward me. The grin on his face was actually worth the lie. “Right. Says the girl who’s mapped out our route in painful detail.”

“Busted.” I laughed.

He shifted until he was leaning sideways against the wall, facing me. “Do you ever just wing it? Wake up in the morning and face the day without a plan?”

I shook my head. “No way.”

“Why?” he said, voice low. He hovered dangerously close, and added, “There’s a lot to be said for spontaneity.”

I swallowed hard and forced myself not to back away—or push forward. There was no denying the attraction, but I wouldn’t allow myself to act on it. “Not in my world.”

He considered it for a moment, then nodded, sitting back in his original position. “Yeah. I guess I can see that.”

I should have left it there and closed my eyes. Drifted to sleep and let the conversation die. But I was starting to realize something about myself. I liked having someone to talk to. It was nice to finally come clean about my life. It didn’t matter if I told Shaun the truth. He wasn’t there to judge me. I wasn’t trying to win him over. We were just two people stuck in a bad situation together. When we got out of it—and we would—I would disappear and never see him again. It might have sounded cold to a normal person, but to me it was sort of freeing. For the first time in my entire life, I had no reason to hide.

“My mom did what she had to do, I get it, but it sucked,” I said. “I never stayed in one school for more than three months. I never had any friends. There was no control. I felt like a ping-pong ball.”

He stretched his legs. “You never had any real structure.”

Shaun was irritating. He was arrogant and spontaneous, and didn’t seem to think anything through, but he was also real. There was a good chance someone else would have felt sorry for me. Pitied me for all I’d missed out on and everything I’d gone through. Not him. There was no sympathy in his voice, only understanding.

“Planning things out is the only area of my life I’ve ever felt like I had any control over. I try to stick to little things. I learned early on that bigger plans—what you were going to be when you grew up and where you were going to live long-term—tended to fall through. But the little things? Those I can have more control of. Even if it’s as simple as making a plan to get from point A to point B.”

“That makes sense,” he said. “Control is an illusion, though, you know that, right?”

“Maybe,” I said, forcing a smile. The wind outside kicked up, seeping in through the cracks and chilling the air. I shivered. “But the illusion helps me get through the day. Sometimes I need that.”

He reached across and pulled the far corner of his jacket tighter around my shoulders, his finger brushing my cheek accidentally. “Yeah. Me, too.”

I shifted closer, until we were shoulder to shoulder, and closed my eyes. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. It was just for the warmth.