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When Casper brought the stick back, Chris flung it hard, sending it spinning into the darkness.
Hunter said, “Casper. Hier. Fuss.”
The dog abandoned the pursuit and bolted to his side.
Chris gave Hunter a dark look. “Killjoy.”
Hunter looked right back at him. His voice was level. “What do these guys want with you?”
“What the hell do you care?”
“They’ve clearly got an issue with you and they’re taking it out on Becca. For god’s sake, he brought a loaded firearm to the party.”
“A loaded firearm?” said Chris, his tone incredulous. “Jesus. You’re not really a narc, are you?”
Hunter flinched a little bit. “No.”
Becca thought of his dead uncle, the K-9 police officer. She wondered if his dad had been a cop, too. “Could we report Tyler for having a gun?” she said.
“He’s over eighteen,” said Chris. “It’s probably legal.”
“It’s not legal for him to be shooting at me,” she snapped.
Chris shook his head, and now his voice sounded tired. “You don’t want them after you, Becca. You don’t want their attention. Just stay away from them and you’ll be fine.”
“Like you’re fine?” said Hunter.
Chris rounded on him, splashing to a stop in the water. A hard wave rolled up the sand, reaching almost to where she walked. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Look in a mirror and I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Chris started to slosh his way out of the surf.
She got between them and threw up a hand. “Stop.”
They stopped. Becca could still taste the seawater on the back of her tongue. “Both of you. Just stop.” She looked up the stretch of sand. They were one house down from the party. Music still poured from Drew’s place, and she could just make out kids fooling around on the back patio.
No danger. No drama. It almost made the entire night feel as if she’d imagined it.
But her throat burned and felt raw, and seawater sealed her clothes to damp skin. That trip underwater was no fantasy. No way was she going back through Drew’s. They could cut between houses and make it to her car from here.
Or she could. She pulled her arm free from Hunter. “I’m going home.”
He followed her. “Let me drive you.”
The grass felt soft under her feet, but the gravel by the road was going to be a bitch. She shook her head. “So I can explain to my mother why I’m soaked and my car is gone?”
“You can clean up at my house,” Chris said from behind them.
“Yeah, right,” scoffed Hunter. He was already leading her away.
“I’m serious,” Chris called. “There’s no one home to give a crap if I bring her around. Can you say the same thing?”
That made her stop and turn.
Hunter set his jaw and looked at Chris—but said nothing. He lived with his mother and his grandparents. That felt like a double whammy. She turned back to Chris.
His eyes were dark and intent on hers. “You can. If you want.”
