Gods & Monsters(49)

I just want to touch him once, make sure that this is real and things will be okay.

Maybe he knows that already. Maybe he can feel how much I miss him because my tiny flip phone starts ringing and it’s him.

“Abel?” I pant into the phone. Damn it. I need to control myself. I don’t want to sound all whiny.

There’s a beat of silence. “Pixie. W-what’s wrong?”

I puff out a breath and press a hand to my chest, trying to calm my heartbeats. “Nothing.”

Way to sound convincing.

He growls. Of course he does. He’s caught on. “Pixie, what’s wrong? Where the fuck are you?”

“At home.”

“Pixie,” he warns.

I cringe at my lack of lying skills, then look up, trying to read the signs. Nothing looks familiar. Well, it’s understandable; nothing in this city is familiar to me. But I don’t even think I’m in Chinatown anymore, or maybe I am; I can’t tell. When I thought about getting lost, I didn’t factor in the fact that I’d be dizzy and panicked, and that my ability to read would be compromised.

“I think I… I-I’m kinda lost.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about? How the hell are you lost?”

“Ugh. I went for a walk. I just wanted to explore the neighborhood and…”

“And what?”

I swallow; I’m not going to tell him about my false alarm. It doesn’t matter now. My dad is not here. There’s no danger.

“I think I just got turned around or something. But —”

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t I tell you to stay put, Pixie? You know nothing about this city. You’ve got no clue where you’re going. You’re shit with directions. And you couldn’t —”

“Can you stop being a jerk for a second?” I cut him off. “I can find my way home, okay? You don’t have to remind me how incapable I am.”

Tears spring to my eyes at his harsh tone. I admit I’ve been stupid but I didn’t want to be shut inside four walls when I could go anywhere I want. No one’s telling me what to do, how to wear my hair, how to dress or when to come back home.

Another growl. “Look at the signs. Tell me what street you’re on. There has to be something around you.”

Sniffling, I look up again, this time with a calm breath. The sun’s rays pierce my eyes and I have to put up my free hand to block the glare. I spot a neon green sign that says Baxter Street with probably, its Chinese translation under it. Okay, so I’m still in Chinatown. “B-Baxter Street. I guess, I, um…” There’s a pole and a bench with people sitting on it, right across from where I’m leaning against the brick wall. “I think there’s a bus stop right by me.”

“All right. Good. You stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”

“You don’t have to come. I said I can —”

“Pixie? Stay. Put.”

The line goes dead and I fall back on the warm wall, wiping my tears off. I hate him for being so bossy. But I also love him for coming to get me.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I just love him and right now, I want his arms around me. I want to forget what I saw, what my mind conjured up.

I don’t know how much time has passed before I see Abel across the street. I stand up straight on tired and jittery legs, slinging the backpack up my shoulder. My relief is huge as I approach the crosswalk, standing directly in his line of sight.

Abel looks mad. He’s the tallest and broadest guy in the crowd and he’s striding toward me with single-minded purpose, even though it’s not his turn to cross the street.

I notice a yellow cab hurtling toward him and I shake my head, call out his name, tell him to go back. But he doesn’t listen. He keeps walking, like it’s the cab — the metal box riding at a high velocity — that should be afraid of his muscles and bones.

The taxi sails past him, almost grazing his jeans, honking like crazy, when he reaches me. He’s totally unfazed by the fact that something could’ve happened to him just now. That he could’ve been run over.

My heart’s slamming, pounding, pushing against my ribcage, and I do the same. I push against Abel’s chest with all my might, with all the force inside me.

“Are you insane? What’s wrong with you? You could’ve died,” I scream. “What were you thinking?”

His nostrils are flaring as he looks down at me, all angry and furious. He grabs my biceps and hauls me to his chest, smashing our bodies together, making them clash, making it hurt. “I was thinking that my Pixie was in danger. I was thinking that she was lost and afraid when I specifically told her to stay in the apartment.”

I clench my teeth. “I was fine. I was handling it.”

“Were you?” he growls. “Then why the fuck are your eyes red? Why the fuck were you crying?”

“Are you seriously mad at me because I was crying?”

He presses his forehead into mine, his fingers digging into my flesh. “No, I’m mad at you because after everything, every fucking thing, I’m still scared to lose you. I’m terrified to lose you and you just don’t care.”

I shake my head at the agony in his voice. “Abel –”

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand what I went through, sitting in that jail cell, thinking I’d never get to see you again. Their fists didn’t hurt me as much as the mere thought of never seeing you. It burnt, Pixie. It fucking burnt.”