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“Of course, you can. And cook, clean, fight, fix gutters and cars, landscape, organise an army. I’m not sure there is anything you can’t do. Except maybe accept help.”

“Bailey, you don’t want to see what he can do. He will break you.”

“He won’t.”

“He will!” I shout.

“He won’t!” Bailey says firmly, “because I have you. You are my anchor in this world. To reason and sanity. If I’m ever in doubt about what I can do, I think of you and what you have done to survive, and I will always try harder. Besides.”

Bailey stops walking and waits until I look at him. His smile is a work of art and my heart jumps in my chest.

“Besides, if he takes me, you’re going to come rescue me. I know you will, Selene. Because, I understand you now. I know who you are. I see all of you, and you’ll be there saving my sorry ass because there isn’t any version of you in any world that would abandon anyone you consider yours.”

“It’s almost like you love me,” I grumble.

“Is it? I’ll try harder. Because I do love you, there is no almost.”

He carries me back to my house and sets me in the shower. I watch him in silence as he peels my clothes from my body and turns the water on.

He steps back, strips out of his own clothes, and climbs in with me.

I lean against him, and his arms come up, wrapping around my back, holding me safe.

I should make him leave, but I can’t do it. I can’t bear to be without him.

Or them.

I’m going to have to kill Benson first.

Chapter twenty-five

Selene

It’s tradition in theneighbourhood that, once every threemonths, we have a street party where everyone brings a plate, and we cook up some meat. I was surprised when it suddenly snuck up upon us. I told Pack Dread about it but didn’t really know if they would attend. It’s one thing to talk to people separately, but it’s another to announce our involvement with each other to the whole neighbourhood.

I can understand if they don’t want to.

Am I nervous they might be embarrassed of me? Perhaps. I don’t have an education, a fancy job, or rich relatives. My strengths are pure endurance and the fact I don’t know when to quit. I’m not connected to a gang or club either, in fact, I actively work against them. I’m just me. Is that enough?

Mary grabs the end of the table I’m dragging. “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while.”

I frown at her. “Did you hit your head again? Pretty sure I saw you at the shops yesterday.”

Mary titters. “But you’ve been so quiet and busy.”

“I’m always quiet and busy.”

“But, this time, there are four wonderful reasons why, aren’t there?”

I sigh heavily and put the table down on my front lawn. Mrs Farrows clucks her tongue and points at the table.

“Right there, David.”

David is a young, gangly youth of fourteen. His straw-coloured hair clashes with his acne, but, even with that and his awkwardly long limbs, he’s going to be an attractive betabecause he’s the spitting image of his father when he was a boy, or so the women of the neighbourhood tell me.

He lifts a huge cooler of Mrs Farrows’ familiar fruit punch and then trots back into my house for the supplies.

I grab some streamers and give them to the little kids. It’s a couple of dollars and some fun. I also get out a big bucket of chalks and watch as they go running off to a part of the road with no people.