I was wrong.
I woke to my own ragged screams tearing out of my throat, to the bloody kitchen in Manitowoc slowly fading to the dark of my empty apartment in Santa Cruz.
“Fuck.”
I tore the covers off and sat on the edge of my bed, holding my head in my hands. My heart pounding, blood rushing in my ears, blood staining the floor…
The cheap clock radio said it was a little after three a.m. I gave up on sleep for the rest of the night, dressed, and headed out. After months of walking, I had a route now. Maryann first. I paused at her unit, listening. All quiet. The door closed and locked, I hoped.
Then I set off for Miller’s complex. All the windows were dark. Quiet. No trouble out of his mom’s boyfriend.
Next, I walked to the Bluffs, back to Nelson’s place. The TV was still on, droning through the open windows. I imagined he’d fallen asleep in the same chair where we’d eaten our version of Thanksgiving dinner hours before.
I kept walking.
No matter how hard I tried to pry it out of Holden, he wouldn’t tell Miller or me where he lived, so I didn’t have him on my route. Probably up in the Heights where the rich people were and too far from my shitty neighborhood. I’d still have walked it.
But Shiloh…
Her and Bibi’s house was in between my place and Central. In ten minutes, I was in her tree-lined neighborhood of small one-story cottages. Had to be careful here; if there was a Neighborhood Watch, I’d get busted, easy. No one would believe me if I told them what I was doing there. Or why.
The Barrera’s house was quiet and dark. Secure. No one suspicious or threatening out on the street.
Except for me.
I made the rounds three times—between Nelson, Maryann, Miller, and Shiloh—until dawn broke in the east behind the forested mountains. Then I returned to my complex and checked on Maryann once more before heading upstairs. I didn’t bother to change out of my clothes; I’d only get an hour or two of sleep if I were lucky.
I lay down in my bed, exhausted, and closed my eyes.
They’re all safe, Mom, I thought, and only then did sleep come.
Black, merciful, nothing.
Chapter Eleven
The sky darkened with rain as I walked home from Central on the Monday after Thanksgiving. I wasn’t far from the school when the first droplets fell, and all I had was my denim jacket.
“Shit.”
I walked faster, and then I heard it. The groaning, creaking sounds of a car that had a huge engine but no horsepower. I bit back a smile as Shiloh’s pale green boat pulled up alongside me, the passenger side window already cranked down.
Shiloh gave me a look, eyebrows raised. “In about ten seconds, it’s going to get bad.”
The sky rumbled as if to prove her right.
She rolled her eyes at my hesitation. “Will you get in, already? Otherwise, this time, it’ll be Bibi thinking I’m an asshole for letting you get pneumonia.”
I ignored the warm feeling in my chest and climbed in.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Shiloh asked, shooting me a dry look. “You can even make fun of the Buick if it makes you feel better.”
“No need,” I said. “It speaks for itself.”
“Oh my God…” She socked me on the shoulder with an incredulous laugh.
I chuckled too. I couldn’t help it; it felt too good to be in this girl’s space, inhaling the same air. She smelled like flowers and rain and was so damn beautiful…
I shouldn’t be here, and I can’t fucking say no.
“So…” Shiloh wasn’t driving yet. We sat in the quiet car watching the rain come down on the other side of the windshield. “It’s been a while. How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Good,” I said. “Yours?”
“Good.”
A silence fell. She huffed a sigh. “Well, that was riveting.”
“Shiloh—”
“You want to go somewhere with me?” she blurted suddenly.
Christ, no one took me off guard like Shiloh. Fucking no one.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I feel restless. Unsettled. Craving…something.” Her gaze darted to me and then quickly turned away. “I want a doughnut.”
“A doughnut.”
“Yes. Suddenly I’m in desperate need of a doughnut. I know a great place. The best in Santa Cruz.”
Say no. Say no. Say fucking no.
“Sure.”
Shiloh drove us to a street filled with coffee shops, a burger joint that kids from school liked to hang out in, and Bob’s Doughnuts. The rain had become a drizzle as she found street parking a block away in a space big enough to dock the Buick.
She shot me a warning look.
I held up my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
She narrowed her eyes and I chuckled again.
“You’re like this kid I knew in kindergarten,” I said. “He used to tattle on me for ‘thinking bad thoughts about him.’”
“I’m going to tattle on you to Bibi for all your Buick slander, spoken or otherwise.”
She gave me a last, knowing smirk and climbed out of the car. We hurried along sidewalks slick with new rain. Clean.
The doughnut shop consisted of one giant display, a coffee station, and a handful of grimy little booths, all of which were empty.
“There’s no Bob,” Shiloh said, leaning in to me as we waited in line behind the only other customer. She pointed to the squat, dark-haired guy behind the counter. “That’s Francisco, the owner. He’s always in a bad mood and will disappear in the back if you take too long deciding what you want. I love him ever so much.”
“Next,” Francisco barked.
“Powdered jelly, please,” Shiloh said.
Francisco jerked his chin at me. “You?”
“Chocolate bar,” I said and glanced down at Shiloh. “Coffee?”
She reached for her bag. “Sure, but let me—”
“I got this,” I said, my tone final.
A small smile spread over her lips. “So this is next time.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, glancing down at her. She was small and slender; I towered over her, sheltering her. And now I was paying for her food. Taking care of her. It wasn’t much but the moment felt big. And maybe she felt it too; the way she was gazing up at me…
Something’s happening.
Except that wasn’t true. Something had been happening since that first afternoon in her backyard.
“You want coffee or not?” Francisco demanded, inching toward the back room.
“Two coffees,” I said.
I paid cash and Francisco handed us the doughnuts in a paper bag, two coffee cups, and nodded in the direction of the coffee station.
Shiloh and I sat in a booth as the rain picked up. I watched her take a bite of her jelly doughnut, powdering her lips with sugar. She started to take another one, but stopped, stared, looking almost angry as I took a bite of my chocolate bar.
“What did I do now?”
“That,” she said, flapping her hand at my doughnut.
“I’m eating.”
“Yes, exactly. You’re eating. With that mouth of yours.”
“What’s wrong with my mouth?”