Page 19 of Challenge Me

The touch landed gently, but it sank through me. Your palm rested against my paint, warm and steady, absorbing the hurt, the betrayal, the humiliation.

You stood there, hand on me, grounding me.

“Did it help?” You asked.

I turned on my radio, static hissing. It was fixed.

You smiled, nodding to Al.

Not me, though. No. This wasn’t a victory. Not yet.

Until you could be the one to bring me back from the brink of the abyss with your own dirty hands, I could not know peace.

Chapter eight

Al

I watched the clock on the staff room wall, ignoring whatever was happening during the teacher’s meeting. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but I was just twenty seconds away from not being paid anymore. All I needed was for the hands on the clock to split, spread-eagled, from top to six.

I had plans. Fun plans. Sacred plans.

It was going to be me, Fox, a long drive, hot pizza, and then the club to see my wife. That was it. That was the dream. I needed loud music, greasy food, and my Mustang to be a menace on the road.

I deserved that.

Fox deserved it too. The poor bastard had been stuck in the garage for three days straight while responsibilities swallowed my evenings. I had to write reports about students almost killing themselves and reports about students actually trying to kill each other. Then Lai asked me to look at Ghost, while Candy made social plans for me behind my back. Every time I promised Fox I’d take him out, something else came up.

And Fox had been as patient as it was possible for him to be, which meant he had only whined, sulked, draped himself over his hood, tried to eat a wrench, and played heartbreaking music every time I walked past without grabbing his keys.

I couldn’t handle another chorus of ‘Careless Whisper’ following me out of the garage, so tonight, I was leaving at six. Not six-oh-one. Six.

The second the old antique clock began to chime the hour, I was out of there, jacket in my hand, ignoring disapproving looks from the rest of the faculty.

It was only my job until six.

◆◆◆

Now it was ten seconds past six, and I was once again a free man.

I grasped the plastic fox keyring tightly in my hand as I saw the black Mustang near the exit.

“Fo–!”

The word caught in my throat as someone’s hand grabbed it, cutting off my breath. I staggered backward, my eyes locking onto the blue glow cutting through the darkness. “Ghost?”

“Al.”

I cleared my throat as Ghost released my neck. I sucked in air, then immediately regretted acting too relieved, because his hand moved to my sleeve instead, grabbing me tight so I couldn’t run.

“Quite a greeting,” I rasped. “Look, I’m sorry I had to fix you. Lai asked me. I didn’t know you were going to react that way.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed. Then he jerked me closer toward himself, close enough that I could smell the faint ozone edge of something electrical burning.

“How else am I supposed to react,” he said, voice low and rough, “when my owner can’t bother to get his hands dirty for me?”

Oh, I see.

Oh, boy.