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“Fuck yes.” He grips my wrists. “Call me like that all day.”
“If I’m yours, then what are you going to call me?”
Reese beams brighter than stadium lights. “You’re my Solly Baby.”
My knees shake. “Reese…”
“Nice. Love that one too. We’ll have to play around with this.” He snags the syringe case, pops up to kiss my forehead, then dashes down the hall like a little kid afraid I’m going to call take-backs on the conversation that converted my brain into nougat. “Get ready for breakfast. I’m gonna butter you so much fucking toast.”
Toast?
Reese Meadows can butter me, stuff me, and drizzle me in his favorite glaze.
He doesn’t need to edge me to make me scream his name.
In my dreams, I call him all the time.
Wobbling into the bathroom, I’m finally alone with the strange girl in the mirror.
She has brown eyes, sex-messed blonde hair, and too-wide pupils, shot with an impossible mix of hope, thirst, and fear.
I hope she knows what she’s doing.
Because now everyone can see.
Now that I’m citrus-free, my hollow stomach has demands.
I want my goddamn egg and cheese sandwich.
After a quick wash in the sink, I don’t waste time designing another disguise the pack will see through, wear down, and disintegrate.
Shorts, T-shirt, done.
My scabby ankles haven’t seen the sun in years, but with all my secrets flying free, I’m letting them hang loose.
Everything but my throat. It feels too scratchy and weird around Meadows boys.
Dutch chucked a worn hoodie on top of my suitcase.
Now it’s mine.
I tighten the cords, but his pancakey afterglow isn’t enough to fill my stomach—or my other hungry holes.
Yeah. I’m doomed.
When I pop into the kitchen in my newly unhinged glory, Bish and Jin stare like they’ve been following me through the walls.
“Bacon?” Jin lifts the sizzling frying pan. An apron covers his bare chest.
I can’t tell if he’s wearing shorts underneath.
Not that it matters.
Jin could seduce me through a snowsuit.
I take the stool beside Bish, and Jin passes me a bacon haystack. After I mow through a few pieces, I clear my tight throat. “Any news?”
Bish stops scrolling his phone. “Jericho is awake.”
