Page 93

Levon

I’m sweating.

I open my eyes to a head on my chest and a leg thrown over me, just as it was when we fell back to sleep however many hours ago.

This morning was . . . unbelievable? Amazing? Whatever the word, it was everything. I needed to be inside Dare and feel that connection with him more than I think I’ve ever needed anything in my life.

A line of light peeks in through the side of Dare’s curtains, and I wonder just how long we’ve been sleeping. I try to gently get out of the bed without waking him, but he must be waking up, too, because he pulls me closer.

“Noooooo,” he whispers. “Stay.”

I kiss his head and lift his arm, starting to sit up. “I’m hot, lycan.”

“Yeah you are,” he teases, rolling off of me and putting his arm over his eyes.

“I’m going to pee and get us some coffee, ’kay?” I crawl over him and find my underwear. Grimacing when I remember that I used it to wipe my fingers off last night, I drop it back on the floor and grab my pants instead. After slipping them on, I pad into the bathroom, do my business, and clean myself up again, splashing water on my face and brushing my teeth. Then I quietly leave the bedroom. The hallway is much cooler, and goose bumps spread across my chest and arms as the air hits me. It feels good.

I shuffle down the stairs to the first floor and then into the kitchen, the familiar smell of the Archer house triggering so many memories. Us all hanging out around the island after a night goofing off in the basement. Mrs. Archer floating around the kitchen making breakfast for the group of us. Nate grinning and shoving a pancake into his mouth while the other guys laugh.

I spot the coffee maker and get some brewing. The clock on the microwave says that it’s just after nine in the morning, and I have a fleeting thought that I should be at the shop, getting work done. But I’m also confident John is there, and he’ll call me if he needs anything.

As the coffee brews, I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and drink it quickly. It only manages to distract me for a moment, however, and then my eyes start to wander again. The place looks almost exactly the same as it does in my memories. Only now, it’s empty—just me standing here. In my mind, it’s loud and boisterous, and there’s the whole bunch of us. We’re kids again. In the kitchen, grabbing snacks from the pantry or eating meals at the table. In the living room, hanging out and watching movies or TV. Down in the basement—

My eyes trail to the basement door, and I steady myself against the island. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. That was where we spent most of our time. Video games, snacks, laughs, wrestling, drinking, smoking, and a bunch of other crazy shit. That’s where most of my memories are.

I’m surprised, though, when the memories aren’t as awful as I thought they would be. They’re strong, but they bring more of a feeling of nostalgia than sadness.

Maybe it’s because things are moving forward in such a great way with Dare. It takes the sting out of it all, feeling like I may still be part of this family.

I’m just turning to get two mugs out of the cabinet, searching for where they are, when I hear the garage door opening.

Shit, shit, shit. Someone’s here.

I glance at the coffee pot to try and see how much longer until it’s finished brewing. But I’m not sure, and just when I’ve decided to take off and sprint up the stairs, Dare’s father walks into the house from the garage. I freeze.

He stops with the door open, hand on the doorknob. I can’t even imagine how odd this looks. There’s a man in his kitchen, shirtless, making coffee in his house. My heart thuds in my chest.

“Oh, uh . . . hello? Who are you?” he asks. He carefully closes the door behind him, not taking another step into the kitchen. His face is as confused as it is angry.

“H-h-hi, Mr. Archer,” I spit out. “Wow, yeah, so this . . . this is probably really weird.”

He just raises his eyebrows.

“I . . . I’m so sorry. I, um . . . I . . . I’m Lev. Lev Richardson. I used to—”

He cuts me off. “Lev!? Oh my god. Lev, as in Nate’s friend?” His face goes from recognition to a smile to pure confusion. “Lev, what are you doing in my kitchen half naked?”

I cross my arms over my torso to try to what? Cover my naked chest? Yeah, it doesn’t do much at all. Grimacing, I drop my arms again and shove my hands in my pockets. “I, um, I’m so sorry. I just, um . . .”

Mr. Archer looks at me, stepping farther into the house. I assume he knows now that I’m not a threat, but that doesn’t change the look of confusion on his face.

“It’s good to see you again, Levon,” he says, tossing his keys onto the island top. I swallow hard and nod at him. “I suppose I can probably guess why you’re here.”

Shame creeps up my face. He knows. He has to know that I spent the night with Dare. There’s some weird tightness in my chest that’s not entirely pleasant, and I suddenly have this sense that two separate timelines are colliding. I’m not sure how to handle it, so I just square my shoulders, spin around and quickly pour two cups of coffee now that the machine is done brewing, then grab the mugs and start toward the stairs.

“I, um, I’m just going to go up . . . take these upstairs. Nice to see you again,” I stammer. I don’t wait for a response, and instead, I head right to the steps and to Dare’s bedroom door. I quickly sit one of the mugs on the floor, open the door with my free hand, and then grab the mug. Shutting the door behind me with my foot, I blow out a breath.

“Darian!” He bolts up into a sitting position. “Your dad is downstairs.”