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"Hey," Tate says, pulling me away from him. "No conspiring. Drive the car."

"What?" Silas scoffs. "I'm not fucking conspiring."

"Great. Drive the car, then."

Sighing, Silas leans forward, kissing me slowly on the lips before exiting the vehicle and getting back into the driver's seat. I wipe my eyes again and then search for my discarded bottoms and shorts and pull them on.

"That's probably not very comfortable, is it?" Tate asks.

I shake my head.

"You can change your clothes when we get to your house."

My house? They're letting me go?

I'm too afraid—too relieved at the thought to ask, so I don't. Instead, I lean against him, wrapping my arm around his back as I stare out the window.

He lets me, holding me and kissing my cheek while running his hands up and down my back. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the darkened window, and he smiles.

But the way he smiles…the way it differs from the devious look in his eyes lets me know this isn't over, and I'm not getting off this easy. Still, I choose ignorance.

After all, I'm tired.

I close my eyes and let myself fall asleep against his chest.

eight

It's a Texture Thing

Noah

"Honey, we're home," Tate says.

Five more minutes,I think, refusing to open my eyes.Just five more minutes of pretending this is okay—that's all I want.

"Let's go, Noah," he says, patting my ass. "Get up. We're going inside."

I open my eyes, stretching my aching body and taking stock of my injuries.

Everything hurts. It seems like it hurts more now that I've slept. My ankle, my shoulder. My hip hurts—maybe from the jump or maybe from limping the way I did.

Between my legs and the back of my throat hurts.

Silas opens the door and helps me out of the vehicle. "Do you have a way to get inside?"

"Um, yeah," I tell him. "The garage door has a code."

He guides me toward the garage with Tate behind us, and I type in the passcode. The door lifts, and I lead them into the house, disabling the alarm once inside.

"Where's the kitchen?" Silas asks.

"It's…that way. Through the living room and then to the right."

He doesn't explain before heading in that direction.

"Nice house," Tate says.

I'm not sure how to respond to that. Objectively, it is a nice house. But what happens inside this house…it isn't nice at all, and I wish I'd never stepped foot in this place.