NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1)(23)

Dare raises his eyebrows. “I’m glad we agree.”

We get our sodas, but instead of heading to the car, Dare heads for a table. “Do you mind if we sit for a minute? I’m sure our food will be fine for a few minutes in the car.”

“Ok.”

I sit across from him and play with my straw, and we stare at each other. After a minute, he smiles and I decide that his smile might be my new favorite thing.

And then I promptly feel guilty for having a favorite anything.

My mother is dead and I killed her. I’m not allowed to enjoy things anymore.

I stare at him as flatly as I can, ignoring the way little fingers lap at my stomach, urging it to flip over and over as Dare looks at me, as his silver ring glints in the sunlight.

What is it about that one motion, that one tiny thing, that always sticks in my head? It’s so stupid. Such a silly thing to focus on.

“As me a question,” Dare finally says, breaking the silence. “I know you want to.”

“I don’t,” I answer evenly.

“You lie.”

I sigh. “Maybe.”

He grins wickedly enough to send a nervous thrill through me. “So ask me.”

“Um, let’s see. How long are you staying here?” I ask conversationally, like I’m not dying to know the answer.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure yet.”

I stare at him. “That’s not an answer.”

“It has to be, because that’s the truth.”

“But sometimes the truth is deceptive,” I fling back at him, and this sobers him right up.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, somewhat defensively. Hmm. Interesting reaction.

“I just meant that sometimes, the truth is so crazy that it doesn’t seem true. Like you saying you don’t know how long you’ll be here. You have to know how long you’ll be here.”

He stares at me, amused now. “But I don’t.”

“You’re frustrating,” I tell him. He grins. “Guesstimate, then.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding satisfied. “If you’re worried about me leaving, I’ll guesstimate. I guess… I’ll be here as long as it takes.”

“As long as what takes?” I ask.

He shrugs.

I want to throat punch him.

“You’re seriously frustrating,” I answer. He laughs.

“I’ve heard that before,” he admits.

“I bet,” I grumble.

He’s laughing and the sound of it vibrates my ribs, filling my belly with warmth. It’s a warmth that I don’t deserve to feel. I try to shove it down, try to shove it away, but the guilt keeps coming back, present in everything I do.

No matter what.

I shouldn’t be sitting here enjoying myself, that’s for sure.

I shouldn’t be fantasizing about this sexy man, dreaming about him, wishing I could be with him. I don’t deserve it. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, and when I open them, I notice something on Dare’s boot, mixed with the grass from the mountainside.

Blood.

“Um. What’s that?” I ask stiltedly, because I already know.

He follows my pointing finger, then meets my gaze.

“It’s blood. I didn’t realize it was there.”

“What’s it from?” My words are calm, much calmer than my racing heart.

“From a raccoon,” Dare sighs.

My eyes meet his. “I hit it, didn’t I?”

He nods slowly.

“I killed it?”

He nods again. “It’s dead.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” My voice is shaky now, and I fight to control it.

His dark gaze doesn’t waver. “Because there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s dead, and I’m sure it was instantaneous. It didn’t suffer and I didn’t want you to feel bad about it. I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you.”

Oh my God. I’m a menace to society. I know it was just a raccoon, but it had a life, and then it came into contact with me, and now it’s dead.

“We should go,” I say quietly, pushing away from the table and heading for the door without waiting for him to respond. He does follow me, though, and when we reach the car, he turns to look at me in confusion.

“Did I do something?”

“Of course not,” I tell him tiredly. “Nothing at all. I should just be getting back. I’m sure my brother is wondering where I am.”

I haven’t left him alone this long in forever.

I drive this time, because I’ve got to be normal. I’ve got to put what happened this morning out of my head. You fall off a horse, you get back on. Your mom dies in a crash, you have to drive again.

When we’re sitting in front of the funeral home, I kill the ignition, and Dare hops out, grabbing eight bags of groceries while I carry four.

“You don’t have to cart these in,” I tell him as we tumble in through the back door. He doesn’t reply, he just heads straight to the kitchen, as though it’s his house, as though he’s been there before.

Curiously, I follow him, watching him begin to unload the items, putting the milk in the fridge and going straight to where the sugar belongs, sliding it into place.