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She smiled, but it was thin, stretched tight at the edges. I could tell that she was scared. That made my chest ache.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she said again, slower this time. The way she talked sounded like she was afraid to break something with her words. So unlike Chelsea. She was so boisterous one hundred percent of the time. And now? Her voice stretched out tentatively across the space between us, meek.

I nodded, because that seemed to be what she wanted. Because if I didn’t nod, she might say my name again.

Because if she kept talking…I might lose my mind completely.

She kept her hand on my wrist, holding me there so tightly, as though I might float up and away into the sky above her. Disappearing.

For a moment, I almost believed it could happen.

“Okay,” I said. “You can come.”

Chapter nine

Just a Puppet on a String

NOAH

There wasn’t much for me to do at home in the days that passed. Damian was out of the house nearly all hours of the day, staying late at the police station calling in witnesses, studying footage from our cameras around the estate, and heading David’s original duties as acting Deputy Chief.

Speaking of the Devil, David was showing conscious progress after several blood transfusions. The doctors gushed about how they were certain he’d make a full recovery if his body continued to be receptive. I hadn’t gone back to visit yet, but would probably end up back at the hospital later, to support my mom.

On top of that, I had a new body guard. One that basically chauffeured me everywhere. Damian claimed it was for my safety, but I was almost certain it was just an added layer of babysitting. Either way, I tolerated the additional monitored drives and escorting. Just to appease Damian. Until we figured out what the hell happened to David, we had to assume that the attacker could resurface, and target another Hansen.

So I played along and let the bodyguard think I cared about his consistent closeness. I tried to get back to my normal routine, just like Damian asked of me.

Delane wasn’t at school on Monday. Or Tuesday. She was always at school, so this was out of character for her.

I kept thinking about that moment between us—the brush of her lips, the heat of it lingering longer than it should have. I wanted to talk to her about it, to figure out what it meant, to maybe… have a do over.

Each night I had dreamed about her, and the kiss. The feel of her breasts against my chest as I shoved her against the car, our bodies leaving no space between each other. The way she had parted her fucking legs for me. Or maybe I had imagined that part. Either way, I couldn’t shake it. I wanted to see her, and that was my first priority when I headed back to campus.

I had waited at our usual table until I couldn’t spare the time anymore. There was no sign of her anywhere, and she hadn’t responded to any of the text messages I sent her. I frowned and walked to class, to the only professor that hadn’t dropped me from their course yet.

Whipping out my cell phone, I sent Delane a quick message, hoping for a reply.

Where have you been? Are you sick?

I hoped she wouldn’t leave me hanging, and at least give me the opportunity to fix what I had ruined during the dance. I needed to see her again.

Before I could slip the phone back into my pocket, it buzzed in my hand. I glanced down, thumb hovering over the screen. I stopped walking and leaned against the wall to check it.

To my surprise, the text wasn’t from Delane at all. It was from Silas.

I heard what happened. Are you okay?

I stopped and considered my response. Part of me just considered ignoring him, but my fingers had minds of their own.

I am fine.

Silas’s reply was almost instant.

Meet me later for drinks? You know the place.

I sighed in frustration, knowing that he meant Shorty’s without even having to ask. I responded with two quick letters.

No.