Uninvited (Uninvited, #1)(41)

My head falls to the side, and my gaze sharpens on the photo on my bed stand. It’s a close-up of me and Zac. My dark hair is swept up off my shoulders. The sweetheart neckline of my pink homecoming dress is just barely visible. I thought I had looked so sophisticated that night. I never felt like I was particularly pretty. My eyebrows were a little too thick, my chin a little too sharp, my eyes too big. Like some kind of elf creature. But Zac had called me beautiful. And the way his eyes widened when he first saw me, I believed him. In the photo, Zac’s hand covers my shoulder so completely, almost possessively, like he feared I might slip away if he didn’t hold me. Obviously, he doesn’t feel that way anymore. I guess I can understand his ability to let go of me now. But not the betrayal. My hand drifts to the bandage. Not this.

Staring at our photograph, I remember the way his hand felt on me, the sensation of it on my shoulder . . . everywhere, really. Like he couldn’t keep himself from touching me. An ache starts at the center of my chest and I curl myself tighter. Reaching out, I put the photograph facedown.

The knock comes again.

“Go away!”

“Davy, you have a . . . guest.”

For a moment, hope zings through me that it’s one of my old friends. Then reality sinks in. No one wants to see me. And there’s no one I want to see. No one who can take this away . . . who can make me feel better, whole again.

“I don’t want to see anyone,” I call out.

Mom’s voice is coaxing through the door. “Davy . . . please . . .”

Guilt seeps inside me at what this is doing to her. What I have done. But then the emptiness in my heart finds that, too. Kills it so I’m numb again.

“No,” I say loudly, sharply, in a tone I never use with my mother. I’ve never needed to. I was the respectful daughter who made all the right choices and only good things ever happened to me.

Her footsteps fade away and I fix my gaze on the fan again, letting the whirring blades mesmerize me.

I start at another knock on my door. It’s different. Solid. Two raps in swift succession. I scowl and glance from the fan to my bedroom door before looking back at the fan again, intent on ignoring the person on the other side.

“Go away!”

I glimpse the swing of the door peripherally, from the corner of my eye. Annoyance flares in me that someone ignored me and invaded my solitude. Irate words burn on my tongue.

And then I turn and my annoyance pivots into a combination of shame and bewilderment.

Sean’s gaze arrows directly on me. He doesn’t give the rest of the room even a cursory glance. He stares only at me.

“What are you doing here?” I watch him warily.

“I heard that they came for you yesterday.”

“Yeah. So?” I sit up and swing my legs over the side of my bed, feeling less vulnerable that way. The sudden movement makes me dizzy and I close my eyes for a long moment, breathing through my nose. Dipping my head, I wait for the dizziness to pass. My hair falls forward, the blonde strands covering much of the white gauze wrapped around my neck, but not all. Not enough. It will never be enough.

“I thought I would check on you.”

I open my eyes and glare at him. “Doesn’t that go against your philosophy? Never get involved. . . . Be strong and tough and all that . . . an island unto himself.”

He crosses his arms but otherwise gives my taunt no reaction.

I notice Mom then. She hovers behind Sean, looking wide-eyed and uncertain, her hands locked together in a death grip, her knuckles white. Her mouth parts and I know she’s on the verge of asking if it’s okay for this boy to be here—an imprinted carrier. My lips curl in a smirk. A little late for that. She already let him up. I guess that just indicates how at a loss she is . . . how desperate.

Of course, I could tell her it’s not okay. That he’s just as dangerous as the imprint on his neck declares. My gaze fixes on the wide band around his neck, seeing it in a new light. Now, more than ever, I want to know what he did to deserve it . . . if he did anything at all.

“It’s fine, Mom,” I say before she can find her voice. Rising, I stride across the room. Sending her a reassuring nod, I close the door, giving me privacy with Sean. Normally, my parents don’t let me close the door with a boy in my room. But nothing is normal anymore.

I move back a few steps into the room, still a careful distance from him, waiting for him to say something.

“You need to remove that gauze.”

I wait a beat and cross my arms across my chest, mirroring him. “So I’ve been told. You didn’t need to come here to tell me that.”

“So, what? You just don’t care? You want to get an infection?” He shakes his head almost like he’s disgusted with me. And that irks.

He moves into my adjoining bathroom. I watch his back as he stands at the sink and turns the water to warm. A bottle of antiseptic still sits on the counter where Mom left it, along with some little nail scissors.

He pulls out the bench in front of my vanity chair and motions me into the bathroom.

I don’t move.

He sighs, sounding tired. “Get in here.”

“What?” I snap. “Are we friends because we’re alike now? Is that it?”

His gaze meets mine in the mirror. “First of all, just ’cause we share the same tattoo hardly makes us alike. I still have an identity. So do you. There are plenty of imprinted carriers out there. Don’t mistake us as all the same. Some of them, probably most of them, are just as dangerous as the Agency says.”