The Hearts We Sold(66)

“She’s a good person,” said Dee. “I think that’s why she has more trouble with this than the rest of us. Someone should call her, see if she’s doing all right.”

James frowned. “Did you just call me a bad person?”

“I said ‘us.’ Remember, I count myself among those ranks.”

James laughed quietly. “You’re a good person, Dee.”

“How do you know that?” She looked at him. “I could secretly be hiding a dark side.”

His smile softened. “Because the first time we met, you thought I was homeless and you offered me money—despite the fact you came into that basement intending to ask a demon for money.”

Oh. Well. She had never really thought about it like that.

“It was just going to be for a bus,” she protested. “It wasn’t like I offered you fifty grand or anything.”

“Doesn’t matter.” There was a fondness she hadn’t expected to see in his face. “You offered to help.” His hand came up, fingers tracing her chin.

If she’d had a heart, it would have been hammering.

But she did not pull away—not when he leaned in, not when his breath mingled with hers, not when she felt the gentle touch of his lips.

“I chose this,” she said, very quietly, and kissed him again.





THIRTY-ONE


M uch to Dee’s relief, there were a few weeks of quiet.

A sense of normalcy settled over everything; the Daemon made no sudden appearances; there were no more mysterious explosions; Cora got back in touch with them and grudgingly accepted Riley as one of the heartless; Riley and James turned out to be surprisingly comfortable roommates; Dee no longer had to hide her double life from Gremma.

She learned that she liked kissing, the way James’s lips could draw the breath out of her or soothe her into a state so relaxed she could have fallen asleep in his arms.

They went on dates. Real dates, with movie theaters and restaurants. He texted her in between classes and she tried to focus on calculus rather than the fact that he called her “adorible.”

Even the misspelling seemed endearing.

It was nice to fall back into a familiar rhythm. To do homework and try to come up with trivial details to e-mail her mother. And when the weekends rolled around, James would often show up with two burlap sacks.

There was no point in getting river rocks; the Daemon wasn’t pestering them to do it. But it was something to do, and besides—Dee enjoyed it.

If she were being honest with herself, she felt better when she was with James. She liked the way he seemed to settle into her—like plastering up the cracks in an old wall. He made her feel whole, like she wasn’t some broken thing that needed fixing.

She learned that he always smelled of paint and fabric softener. His outfits may have looked as if they came from a dumpster, but he was meticulous about washing them. She learned that he liked holding hands, enjoyed his thumb stroking over her pulse point, as if it were a joke between them.

As spring crept toward summer, a heat wave rolled into Oregon. It was rare to see the clouds burned so cleanly from the sky. When they went to the river one day, she found herself kneeling in the shallow water, dribbling handfuls of it over her bare shoulders.

James ended up taking off his shirt and—

Dee did not stare.

Much.

All right, so maybe there was some staring.

Once they were done picking rocks, he insisted on being gallant and carrying both burlap sacks.

“I think our roommates are dating,” said James, with as much solemnity as he could muster.

She snorted. “Oh, really? How’d you figure that out?”

His mouth hooked up into a grin. “I am a keen observer of the human condition. All artists must carefully examine human behavior and…”

Dee gazed at him.

“I walked in on them making out,” he finished lamely.

Her laugh came out as a breathy exhalation.

“You can laugh,” he said. “It’s not like they were making out on your couch.”

Dee crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me you’re bothered by it.”

“Of course I’m bothered by it,” said James. “It’s my couch. I spent all of… a hundred dollars on it. If anyone was going to christen it with a naked butt, it should have been me.”

Dee choked. “They were naked?”

“Not yet,” said James. “Give it time.”

“You really think so?”

James pointed at himself. “Keen observer of the human condition, remember? It’ll happen.”

They kissed against the hood of his car for some time. She never thought it could be this effortless. She never thought she’d find anyone she trusted enough to share such easy affection.

When they returned to his apartment, his door was unlocked. “You should lock your door,” she said, pushing it shut behind her.

“I’m already working for the Daemon,” said James airily. “Whatever decides to visit can’t be scarier than him.”

One of his paintings caught her eye. It looked like something from an old church, with figures and glowing halos, shining through with inner light.

“You’re painting angels?” she said, unable to help herself.