Page 84 of Left In The Dark

I lower my hand to his hip. “Yes, but below the mask.”

He nods, rubbing his face into my chest as he slides a hand up my shirt. He traces up and down my back, his fingers slowing as his breathing evens out. I don’t know who falls asleep first, but I do know one thing—we’ve both lost our fight to the dark, and in more ways than one.

Twenty-nine

Logan

The ice is finally melting. We’ve been stuck inside only four days, and it was hard to leave the bed this morning when I had half his body shoved inside my hoodie so he could be closer and keep touching me while I slept. He didn’t like when I told him I had to do another store run. I need more ointment for his burn. It’s a deep, nasty, angry color, and him scratching around it isn’t helping any. I was going to unhook his ankle from the bedpost and lock the door from the outside, since I switched the door knob around the night before after he fell asleep.

He wouldn’t let me, swinging his arms and thinking it was me practicing for when I’d let him go. It was crushing me. He needs to be wanted so badly. He’ll even accept it from someone who stole him away from his life and his dream job. He wants me to want to keep him, and I do. I don’t want to tell him, though, because it’ll only make it harder when I let him go.

I left the cuff on his ankle, running my fingers through his wavy blond hair, and he hummed when I kissed the center of his forehead, practically melting where he was. He wasn’t the only reason it took me so long to walk out the front door. My shoes were weighed down like they were filled with lead as I walked to my car.

Now I’m sitting here, looking back at the house and barn, thinking about how upset he’ll get again when I have to take him back there. My mom said she’s stopping by to get more of her things this weekend and I can’t have him in her room when she does. It’s official. She’s moving to my aunt’s but won’t tell my dad because she’s worried he’ll try to take the house from me. He won’t take it from her, but wouldn’t blink an eye if it came to leaving me homeless and on the street.

I squeeze the wheel tight with one hand and pull the mask off my face as I drive onto the road. I still don’t know how I’ll release Blake. I could drop him off with his car in a place I know someone can find him. I could leave him near the lake his friends sometimes threw bonfires at. It’ll come to me. I have time. Once my mom’s gone, I’ll have plenty of time.

I arrive at one of my favorite taquarias fifteen minutes later, getting out of the car almost as soon as it’s in park. I reach one of the kiosks after rushing inside away from the cold air, lifting my hood over my head. I place my order, and as I’m waiting, the door dings behind me.

“Oh, look who it is. Loser Logan.”

Hayden is smiling big when I look back at him, and I grit my teeth. “What do you want, Hayden?”

“Nothing from you. Just here to order breakfast so I can enjoy it in bed with your dad,” he says smugly, and my breaths cut at my throat.

“Good for you. Hope you two enjoy each other. Just the trash taking out the trash for me.”

His face hardens and I duck out of the way when he swings his fist at me. “Oh, look who’s learned some new moves from the academy. I hope you don’t think that makes you better than me.”

“I don’t think, asshole.” I spit at him. “I know.”

He cocks his head, running a hand across his jaw. “You know, that’s a nice car you have out there. Not as nice as mommy’s, though. It’s under your dad’s name, right? You think if I beg enough, he’ll make sure it goes to me in the divorce.”

I swing my arm this time, undercutting him in the jaw, and he crashes back onto the floor. The manager steps from behind the counter with his face beet red. Someone hands him my order and he shoves it into my chest. “Look, Logan, I think it’s best you take your food and get out of here now. I don’t want any trouble and you’re too good a kid to be mixing yourself up with people like him.”

“Fuck you, Carlos. You know I could have you shut the fuck down within days,” Hayden says.

“Yeah. I’m done with your threats. Get the hell out of my restaurant. You’re not welcome here anymore.” Carlos stands between us and I walk around a kneeling Hayden and hurry to my car with my food tucked under my arm. I get in my car and as I’m backing away, Hayden charges at me, leaning over my hood and slamming his hands over the top.

My tires scrape the asphalt and I haul ass out of the parking lot, doing a double take when he turns to my dad’s truck, slipping into the driver’s side spitting blood out the partially rolled down window.

I look between him and the truckbed. Does he drive that often? An idea strikes in my head, and if this isn’t the last time he plans to take my dad’s truck out for a joyride, then I think I know exactly how and where I’ll let my little piglet go. Following Hayden and my dad around for a few days might tell me exactly when to do it. Guys like Hayden like going to the same places over and over. They have their favorite days to go to them too.

He wants to try and threaten me? I don’t think the fucker has suffered enough consequences for all his actions yet. If he wants to keep doubling down, then so will I.

Blake is reading his Kindle with headphones in his ears. Is . . . is he listening to my old Walkman? He nods his head to the beat of whatever song he’s jamming to and mumbles as he swipes his finger across the screen to change the book page.

His eyes lift and he sets the Kindle down and yanks off the headphones, sitting taller. “You’re back.”

“I am.”

“What’s that smell?” He sniffs the air.

“Tacos.” I lift the plastic bag, my feet inching closer to him.

“Mmm. Tacos sound perfect. What kind did you get?” He sets everything from his hands and lap on the nightstand before scooting forward. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. It’s just nice to take a break from four days of soup.”

“Tired of soup already?”