“What blond hottie?” Tate asks.
“When Haven and I were—” she starts, but I really don’t have time for this. I’ve already been in the bathroom too long.
As if on cue, there’s a light knock and then Becks’ voice filters through the door. “Haven, everything all right in there?”
My stomach jumps into my throat. I’m out of time.
“He’s back. I gotta go,” I quickly whisper into the phone. “But remember, don’t call this number, and only text with an update. And I . . . I love you both.” I don’t give them a chance to quiz me more before ending the call.
“I’ll be right out,” I yell back to Becks, my cheeks burning at the thought of what he probably assumes I’ve been doing in here for so long.
I’m suddenly not sure if it’s a good or bad thing you can’t die of embarrassment.
Rushing out of the stall, I quickly wash my hands, noting that my face is as red as it feels, and then bust through the door to find Becks leaned up against the wall, arms crossed and a frown on his handsome face.
“Who were you talking to?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
“Talking to?” I ask, playing dumb.
“I thought I heard you saying something before I knocked.”
“You were listening in at the women’s bathroom door?” I give him a wide-eyed look that’s meant to make him uncomfortable enough to drop it. “That’s weird.”
“No, I wasn’t—it wasn’t like that,” he says, color appearing high on his cheeks.
“You know people report stuff like that.”
He scrubs a hand down his face, and I feel a thrill of victory when he mumbles, “Never mind, let’s just get out of here,” and turns toward the exit.
I absently rub the back of my head, my stomach churning with worry for my parents, and guilt over hiding the phone from Becks.
“Is it sore?” he asks, his low rumble breaking me from my trance.
“Huh?”
“Your head.” His gaze flicks in my direction before returning to the road.
“Yeah, it is,” I admit. “But I don’t remember getting hit there.”
A muscle in Becks’ jaw tics. “It’s probably from being dragged.”
Oh, right. It hurts in the place the guy grabbed me by the hair. A shudder runs through me. “You saw that, huh?”
Pressing his lips together, Becks nods. It might be my imagination, but I swear I smell the faint hint of ash and smoke.
“From a distance, before I reached you.”
“Good times,” I say, my lame attempt at a joke, but it falls flat. Becks doesn’t even crack a smile.
Embarrassed, I duck my head and stare out the window.
Minutes drag by, and then out of nowhere, Becks says, “I’m sorry.”
I peer over to see he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel, the muscle in his jaw still ticcing.
“What for?”
He glances over, his face a stone mask. “For not getting there sooner,” he says, taking me aback. His gaze returns to the road. “I followed you through the woods that night, planning on knocking on your door after you’d gotten home and talking with you and your parents at the same time. But I didn’t know exactly how to break the news that your sister was alive and there was a demon hunting you, so I dragged my feet.”
