All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(103)

“Sure you weren’t staring?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Just like you didn’t move the pillows.”

Ignoring him, I climbed out of bed. The floor was icy under my bare feet, and I hopped over to the table—L SUCKS J—and tossed Emmett his phone. “Anything?”

He had ignored my tacit suggestion of the shirt and, sprawling across the covers, he checked for messages. “Here’s a text. She found an internet cafe and she says she’ll be back in a bit. Jesus, it’s twelve-thirty.”

“So much for school.”

“I’ve got to call a tow truck,” he said. “Figure out what to do with the Porsche. You grab a shower.” He flashed me that smile again. “I’ll join you in a minute.

I wasn’t sure if he were joking, but I locked the door just in case. When I’d finished, I felt a lot better—it was surprising what a shower could do, even when I just had to wear the same old clothes. Emmett showered next, with another murmured invitation that I ignored, but when he came out, he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Oh come on,” I said, gesturing at him. “I know you like to put on a show, but enough’s enough.”

To my surprise, his cheeks colored. “I . . . I can’t.”

“That’s convenient.”

He turned around. A massive bruise covered his shoulder, marking the spot where the bullet had struck the gun. That bullet hadn’t killed Emmett, but it had certainly left a mark.

“Ouch,” I said. “Come here.”

Emmett plopped onto the bed, his shirt dangling from one hand. My fingers grazed the bruise, and Emmett hissed. “If you wanted to poke me,” he said, turning to glare at me, “I would have said no.”

“Sorry. Damn, that’s bad.”

“I know. It hurt last night, but it wasn’t like this.”

I studied the bruise and how he held his arm. “I bet we can get your shirt on.”

I moved to sit behind him. With Emmett’s help, I guided the shirt up his injured arm. Then, doing my best to keep that arm motionless, I helped him duck his head and other arm through the opening. He yelped once, at the end, but otherwise the process went smoothly. When I’d finished, I started to move away, but Emmett leaned back against me with a little grunt of pain. I could either move and let him fall or stay, and so I stayed.

Watch out, a part of my brain was saying. Watch out. Last night was last night, and you can still go home and tell yourself nothing happened. You can still look Austin in the eyes, if he ever wants to see you again after what you did to Jake. But watch out, buddy, because these are dangerous waters, and the sharks are swimming, and you’re about to give them a taste of blood, so watch the hell out.

“You’re like a big teddy bear,” Emmett said. “A big teddy bear stuffed with rocks.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

One of his hands found mine, pulling it up and across his chest so that I was holding him against me.

“Emmett,” I said.

“I know. Just let me enjoy it for a minute.” His fingers stroked the back of my hand, up my wrist, along my arm. The words were right on the tip of my tongue: I can’t, we shouldn’t, this isn’t right. Hell, I didn’t even need to say anything, I could just get up and move. In fact, that’s what I was going to do. I was going to stand up, right now, and dump him on his ass and remind him that he had told me that I was just fuck-buddy material, that I wasn’t good enough for him to date. I was going to tell him—

“I’m sorry,” Emmett said.

“What?”

“For how I treated you. When you were—I mean, when we had a chance. I’m sorry for what I said, that I just wanted to mess around, that I wasn’t interested in dating you. I’m sorry. Can I tell you that a thousand times? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too. But I’m with Austin right now.” I shifted, pulling away from him and letting him slip onto the bed.

“Right now? As in, only for right now?”

“Now.” I licked my lips, suddenly aware of the heat in the room. “I meant to say I’m with Austin now.”

His eyes closed to slits. “Right. Of course. I know.”

“Anyway, it won’t matter in a few days. I’ll be shipped off to God knows where.”

His eyes flashed open. “What?”

I told him about Sara, and about the DFS, and the social worker who would drag me off to a foster home. “If I’m lucky. If I’m not lucky, I’ll end up in one of those group homes.”

“But if you and your dad fix things, you wouldn’t have to go.” Wincing at the pain in his shoulder, Emmett scrambled upright. “Hell, you wouldn’t even have to really fix things. You’d just have to convince him to lie, and then you lie, and if you both say everything’s ok, they can’t take you away.”

I shook my head. My thoughts had gone back to the dark, freezing apartment, and to the feel of my dad’s hand tangled in my hair, and to the sound of his rasping breaths, and to his eyes, glassy and blank and seeing all the nightmares I’d dug out from under his bed.

“We can pay your dad,” Emmett said. “How much do you think it’ll take? A thousand dollars? I mean, he won’t say no to a thousand dollars, will he? And we’ll coach him on exactly what to say, and—”