Page 51 of Don't Puck Up

“Thanks for being here. Have a safe flight,” Kam said with a smile.

They were parked in the opposite direction, so we said our goodbyes, and I trudged to my car.

The miles melted away under my tires as I made the drive north along the I-5, and the disappointment hit me like a sledgehammer. I hadn’t wanted to leave, but my conversation with Chris had gutted me. I hated leaving them like that. I wanted more. I wanted to be with them, but tonight more than ever had made me realize it could never happen. I just needed to hear their voices again to ease the ache.

I selected my private line and dialed their number. Kamirah picked up on the second ring. There was noise in the background, laughing and glasses clinking together. They’d obviously gone out after finishing up at the shelter.

“Hi, sweet thing,” I murmured.

“Hey, you. How are you? Happy Thanksgiving.” The background noise died down.

“You too. So, ah…”

“V?”

“Yeah,” I answered, my voice getting caught in my throat.

“Wish you were with us today. We spent the day with a friend at a shelter—”

“Are they okay?” I asked, hating the lie I was perpetuating.

“We were volunteering there. I was watching Chris and our friend play with the kids, and I wanted you to be there with us too.”

“I would have loved that,” I croaked. An invisible band tightened around my chest, and I desperately wanted to confess everything to them, right here and now.

“What are you doing now? Are you alone?” Chris asked before I could open my mouth and say something stupid.

“I am, but I’m heading home. I was out all day too.”

“We should head back inside,” Kam said gently.

“That’s okay,” I said, forcing as much perkiness into my voice as I could. “I was just calling to say Happy Thanksgiving. Let my pretty prey know I was thinking of you.”

“We were thinking of you too,” Chris admitted. “Night, V.”

“Good night, boy, sweet thing. Have fun.”

I hung up and exhaled slowly, banging my head back against the headrest. I groaned. I needed to walk away from them. But it was impossible.

I was going to do something stupid; I just knew it.

seventeen

Minns

Iopened the door from the garage into the house and led Kam through. We didn’t bother with the lights. We knew the layout like the backs of our hands. Walking past our furniture through the darkness was nothing.

“I’m so thirsty,” Kam lamented.

We’d been on our feet all day, and both of us were dehydrated. I rounded the corner into the kitchen and froze. The light above the cooktop was on, bathing the countertop in a warm glow. A glass with ice in it sat sweating on the granite. An open bottle of gin was next to it.

Neither were there when we left. I hadn’t turned the light on either.

“What’s—”

“Shh,” I hissed. I pushed Kam behind me and reached for the light switch.

A red glow lit up the walk-in pantry. It was V.