because they didn’t appear until about two years ago.
My thoughts whirled to the car in the parking lot and to what Keira had said the day before as I cleaned up the cut. Was this a result of the shady people he was hanging out with? Would he now have matching scars above both eyebrows? I didn’t like the idea of that. “Why haven’t you been in class?”
“I had some stuff to take care of.”
“That’s not an answer.” When he said nothing, I tried again. “Are you... Are you safe, Rider?”
He turned his cheek toward me, and I almost dabbed him in the eyeball. “That would’ve stung,” he murmured, catching my wrist. He plucked the ball out of my hand and tossed it on the coffee table. “I’m safe. I’m always safe.”
I shook my head. “All those times you put yourself—”
“Mouse...”
“You put yourself in danger for me. You did, over and over again.” Anger snapped at the heels of the concern welling in my chest. “You never really stopped to think about...what could happen to you.”
He tilted his head back, meeting my gaze. “I knew what I was doing.”
“You...” My throat thickened as memories rose like a vile, tainted wave. “You took beatings for me. You—”
“Mouse,” he said gently. “I knew what I was doing then and I know what I’m doing now.”
Was he basically telling me that he was now taking a beating for someone else? Without him saying any more, I knew it. I knew the bloody gash on his forehead wasn’t because of something he’d done, but something someone smaller, weaker had done. “Are you a masochist?”
He stared at me a moment and then he laughed—that deep laugh that made me shiver. “That’s a good question.”
“It’s not funny.” I started to pull my arm away, but he held on to my wrist. Our gazes held again, and words bubbled up my throat like champagne. “I don’t like seeing you hurt now any better than I did back then.”
“But I’m not hurt.” His voice was low. “See? You took care of me.”
There was a swelling feeling in my chest again, but this one was different. Sort of like a balloon being filled. “Is that why you came here?”
He didn’t respond immediately. “I don’t know. I think I just missed you. Like not seeing you all this time after...after being around you every day for, hell, for a decade, and then...then I lost you. But now you’re back.” He smoothed his other hand over the top of mine. “It doesn’t seem real. The odds of us ever crossing each other’s path again had to be stacked against us, but here we are.”
Here we are.
“So how long do I have before—what were their names? Carl and Rosa? Yeah, that’s them. How long do I have before they come back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe...maybe an hour or so?” My hands felt incredibly small in his.
That lopsided grin was back. “I doubt they’d be happy to find me here.”
“Why?”
His brows rose. “Maybe I’m wrong. They used to coming home to find some strange guy sitting on their couch?”
I rolled my eyes.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Rider tugged on my hands, and I rose, letting him pull me down to the couch beside him. He leaned back, sliding one arm around my shoulders and tucking me against his side. “Just par for the course with you, huh?”
I didn’t know what to do with my hands since he’d let go of them, so I folded them in my lap. “I’ve never had a...guy here.”
Rider stiffened and then he twisted his neck so he was looking at me.
Did I seriously admit that out loud? Squeezing my eyes shut, I sighed. “I’m just...going to shut up now.”
He chuckled. “Don’t do that. I like listening to you talk.”
With our sides pressed together and his arm around my shoulders, it was like having one foot in the past and one in the present. Being this close now felt totally different than before. If only the TV had been on, I imagined we’d be following in the footsteps of couples all over the world, cuddled up as we were.
Except we weren’t a couple.
I really needed to get that thought out of my head. “You didn’t, um, miss much in class. We have to read examples of...informative speeches.”
“Sounds fun.”
Our gazes met briefly, and I looked away. “Where have you been, Rider?”
Rider was silent as he slid his hand up my arm. His fingers brushed over the bare skin of my shoulder as he curved his hand there. It seemed like such an unconscious move, but tiny bumps formed on my skin, chasing the caress. “Hector and I needed to talk to some people.”
My gaze shifted up to his again. “Does talking involve fists?”
A wry grin formed. “Sometimes.” He reached up, wiggling the knot of hair piled atop my head. “Hector’s brother...he’s young. Jayden’s just fifteen, but sometimes he seems even younger than that. You know, mentally, and he gets himself into some trouble.”
Staring up at him, I was struck again by the fact that some things didn’t change. Or maybe it was some traits in people. “So you’re helping him out of trouble?”
“Trying,” he murmured, resting his head against the back of the cushion. His eyes took on a hooded, lazy quality as he continued to mess with my hair. I had no idea what he was doing. “Anyway, we talked yesterday. Made sure Jayden got his ass to class today. The talking didn’t go as smoothly this evening.”
Oh my God, I wanted to hug him and punch him. “Rider—”
“Did you ever think we’d be sitting here?” he asked.
“You’re changing the subject,” I pointed out.
“I am.” He flashed a quick, impish grin. “But did you?”
“No,” I admitted, swallowing against the sudden lump in my throat. “I never thought...I’d see you again. I hoped that I would.”
“Hoping never really got us anywhere, did it?”
I shook my head. Growing up as we did, we learned real quick to get on a first-name basis with reality. Things like hope and aspirations had seemed like dreams and fantasies.
Rider’s fingers kept moving along the knot and before I knew it, he’d worked the bun loose. My hair fell past my shoulders, a tangled mess of waves. “I like it down,” he said, and the hollows of his cheeks pinked as he dropped his hand. His fingers grazed my upper arm. “Though I kind of miss the orange. Made it easy to pick you out in a crowd.”
“Thanks.”
