All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(125)

With my face hot enough that I didn’t think Sara would have to run her oil furnace all winter, I undid the clasp and threw the window up. Emmett’s jaw had dropped to his sneakers. I grabbed a handful of coat and hauled him inside. He hit the floor, gathered himself up, and ran a hand through his hair. His face had shifted into a smirk, and my cheeks threatened to start a fire.

“Don’t say it.” I realized, almost unconsciously, that I had my arms folded across my chest. It took an effort to lower them. “Not one word.”

He mimed running a zipper over his lips.

“I’m serious, Emmett.”

He held up his hands, the protest of the wrongfully accused. Then the joke slid off his face, and something in the air shifted. It felt like all the oxygen suddenly weighed ten times as much. It made the room thick, and I struggled to get breath. Emmett got to his feet and walked towards me. I backed away.

“What are you doing?”

He kept coming. I kept moving away.

“Emmett, stop.”

He didn’t stop.

My back hit the dresser. “I already told you.”

One of his long fingers traced my collarbone. It was barely even a touch, but his skin sparked and slid along mine like metal on metal. Then his hand dropped, and he slid fingertips along the bandaged cut on my side, until his hand looped around my waist and pulled me against him.

“You followed me,” I said, but it came out as more of a gasp.

His fingers turned back, running across my chest.

“You didn’t . . .” I was losing track of what I was saying. “You didn’t have to do that.”

His hand settled possessively on my abdomen. His eyes, deep and dark enough to swim in and never touch bottom, were swallowing me.

“I wanted to be sure you were ok,” he murmured, so close to me that the sound of his voice vibrated in the hollow of my throat. “But now I’ve got another idea.”

He moved to kiss me, and I turned my head.

A long, painful moment passed, and then Emmett finished the kiss, planting it on my cheek. That wasn’t what he had intended, I knew, but it still made my skin tingle. He slid away from me and dropped onto the bed.

“You make a guy have wicked thoughts,” he said, trying for a smirk and coming up short.

“Emmett—”

“I know. It’s still the way it was, nothing’s changed between you and him. But I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you in the hospital.”

“Vie,” Sara called from downstairs. Both Emmett and I jumped, and something—guilt?—flashed across his face.

Cracking the door, I called back, “Yeah, Sara?”

“Do you like mustard on your sandwich?”

I threw a glance over my shoulder. Emmett had crawled to the window again, and I motioned for him to wait. “Yeah, sure. Sounds great.”

She asked something else, but I shut the door and sprinted to the window as Emmett slipped out onto the roof. He crouched there, meeting me look for look, and then he smiled.

“Glad you really are ok, tweaker. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then he scuttled to the corner of the asphalt shingles, where a trellis rose, and he crawled down and out of sight.





Everyone except Temple Mae spent the next day—a long day—at the sheriff’s station. I saw Austin once, across the main room as one of the deputies led me into the sheriff’s office, but otherwise the deputies kept us separated. By the time they’d finished questioning us and questioning us again, the sun had burned down to a low, orange glare along the horizon. Sheriff Hatcher wasn’t happy, or satisfied, or anywhere close to convinced. I didn’t know why, but he went ahead and let us go. Part of me guessed it was due to Emmett’s father. He’d slapped the city with a nasty lawsuit a few years back, and ever since then, the sheriff had steered clear of anything that might look like harassment of Emmett. Maybe that protection extended to Emmett’s friends as well.

Whatever the reason, Deputy Fred Fort, wheezing with every step, marched me outside and into another freezing Wyoming gale. Austin and Jake were getting into a shiny SUV with their parents. I waved, and Jake gave a half-hearted nod, but Austin didn’t so much as acknowledge me. Emmett lingered by the Porsche, talking to Becca, who brightened and threw back her bleach-blond hair when she saw me. Silver eyeshadow seemed to catch fire in the setting sun as she watched me approach.

“Well?” Emmett said. “Dinner?”

I shook my head. I was wearing new clothes, courtesy of Sara. They were more stylish, and fit better, than anything I’d ever owned. For a reason I couldn’t explain, though, I had ignored the heavy jacket Sara had hung in the closet, and instead I wore River’s denim jacket. Eyes still sparking and full, like two oceans set aflame, Becca gave the jacket a tug, and I shrugged.

“What do you mean, no?” Emmett said. “I’m starving. You’re starving. We’ve been freezing our asses off waiting for you to finish, and nothing sounds better than a giant steak at Mulholland’s. I’m buying.”

I shook my head again.

“Come on, we need to celebrate. This is a big win.”

“I’m really tired, Emmett. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You sure?”

I nodded.

“You’re not being weird because we—” My eyebrows shot up, and I watched as Emmett scrambled what he’d been about to say. Instead of mentioning the failed kiss last night, though, he managed to spit out, “Because we slept together.” My eyebrows shot up even higher. “Slept in the same bed together,” he amended. I waited, and he added, “In a motel. Out of sheer necessity.”