All the Little Lights(38)

I had to think back to remember when the last time was that we’d had it and when he was here. It was possible. “It’ll be ready in an hour.” I turned the dial to 250 degrees.

“It better be. The service around here is worse than having to waste away in this crap town.”

“If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”

He stomped over to me, leaning in just inches from my face. I looked at the floor.

“You tryna get rid of me, girl?” His teeth ground against one another, and he breathed through his nose again. The sound reminded me of a wild animal getting ready to charge.

I shook my head. “I’m just trying to make up for my mistake before. I want you to be happy here.” Duke wouldn’t be able to go anywhere but the Juniper even if someone did let him check in. With his demeanor and his sneaking around, no one would let him stay longer than a night if at all, and I was certain he couldn’t afford anywhere else anyway. Besides, I worried for Poppy if he did.

Duke sat up. “Happy, huh?”

I nodded. The oven beeped, and I opened the door, sliding in the casserole. I faced Duke, his round eyes bulging from the anger that always seemed to boil inside of him. “Can I? Get you anything else?”

One of his eyes twitched, but he said nothing.

I offered a forced smile and then made my way to the front door, my feet moving faster with each step. By the time I pushed through to the porch, I ran straight into Elliott.

“Whoa! Hey,” he said with a smile. It quickly faded when he saw the look on my face. “Are you all right?”

I glanced behind me. “What are you doing here?”

He smirked. “I was in the neighborhood.”

I pushed him out the door. “We should go. C’mon.”

“Where?” he asked, glancing at Duke behind me. He was standing next to the bottom of the stairs, watching us from under his brows.

“Anywhere. Please, let’s just go.”

“Okay,” Elliott said, taking my hand. He led me down the steps, down the uneven sidewalk, and out the gate, letting it crash behind us. We walked toward the park, and the farther we got from my house, the less panicked I felt.

Elliott didn’t ask me any questions while we walked, which I appreciated even more than his hand still encompassing mine. It was impossible to hate him, no matter how much I tried. Once we reached the curb that bordered the clearing surrounded by birch and maple trees, I tugged on Elliott’s hand, choosing the far bench. It was next to a smelly trash can but had the better shade.

I relaxed against the back of the bench, willing my heartbeat to slow. My hands were shaking. Duke didn’t come around often, but when he did, it was terrifying.

“Catherine, are you okay?” Elliott finally asked after several minutes of silence. “You looked scared.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “You just startled me.”

“Then what was that all about?”

“I forgot to stock the rooms with towels last night. One of the guests was upset.”

Elliott wasn’t convinced. “Are you that afraid of getting in trouble?”

I didn’t answer.

Elliott sighed. “You don’t have to tell me unless someone is hurting you. Is someone? Hurting you?”

“No.”

He was deciding if he should believe me or not, and then he nodded. “I saw you at school today. I called your name. You didn’t answer.”

“When?” I asked.

“At lunch. You’d just gotten up to throw away your tray. I tried to catch up with you, but you rounded the corner and disappeared.”

“Oh.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh’?”

“I ducked into the bathroom. Presley and the clones were headed in my direction.”

“So you hid?”

“It’s better than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Engaging.” I glanced down at his watch. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

The sun was already setting. “Shouldn’t you be at football practice?”

He looked down at himself, and I realized what a sweaty, dirty mess he was, still in a football T-shirt and navy-blue practice shorts. “I came straight over. I dunno. I had a bad feeling, and as soon as I walked onto the porch, you came barreling into me. Now we’re sitting here like nothing happened. I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “I already told you. You look scared, and I know you’re not telling me everything.”

I leaned to the side, scratched my chin with my shoulder, and then looked away. “You know, maybe not everything is your business.”

“I didn’t say it was, but I can still worry about you.”

“I didn’t ask you to worry about me.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t want you to worry about me. You can’t help anyway. Your life is messed up enough for both of us.”

“Stop.”

I turned to face him, surprised at the lack of hurt on his face. “Stop what?”

“Trying to piss me off. It’s not going to work.”

I opened my mouth to speak but hesitated. He was right. Pushing people away was what I had done since Dad died, but now that Elliott was back, the thought of him leaving again made my chest ache. “I’m . . . sorry.”