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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ST. CLARE

The whole time Perry’s being tended to, the rest of us stand in a ring around him, watching every second. Sure, part of it is concern about him being a person, and he’s a person in pain, but it’s more than that. We all know he’ll be okay. There’s no reason to watch on.

But when it comes to Perry, he’s like this gravitational force, and we’re all floaty chunks of rock, stuck in his orbit.

Even me.

All I want right now is to disappear into the house and wait for everyone to leave, but my feet are planted on the ground, turned toward him, and I hate how much I’m tuned in to every grunt of pain.

So is Arlie.

If I’m not watching Perry, I’m glaring her way. There’s a bond between the two of them where she pretends not to be interested, and he watches her through big, puppy dog eyes. It’s sickening. No one is buying her disinterest because who the hell couldn’t be interested in Perry?

It takes way too long for them to clean him up, show us where everything is in the cabin, and then get the rundown on what happened since he left Lethal Poison.

I’m not at all surprised when Perry tells us he wanted to check in on Walter, and the fact it could have gotten him killed sits heavy with me. What if that bullet got his chest instead? We’ve both come way too close to dying lately, and I get the feeling that luck isn’t something we can keep relying on.

They leave in a car much nicer than Perry’s—no number plate draws my attention—and when they disappear and the silence kicks in, I’m conscious not to look Perry’s way again. Not even when Lars leaves to look around the property. I’m going to wedge distance between us whether I like it or not.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem on board with that plan.

I turn around and almost run right into him.

“Are you okay?”

Him asking me that when he’s the one who’s injured is … well, it’s Perry. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I try to walk away, and he hurries to fall into step with me. Still shirtless, way too close, energy wrapping around me in a delicious way that makes me want to give in. Already. Two seconds after I decided to give myself breathing room from him.

“Other than the whole being on the run for my life thing, sure.” I abruptly change my direction to get away from him, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back. Reluctantly, I force myself to meet his eyes, and it pulls a shadow of his goofy grin from him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For getting us into this mess.”

I frown because he sounds like he believes that. “I don’t think you get to take all the blame.”

“Well, if I’d never shot you?—”

“Then someone else would have, and they probably would have done a better job of it.” I should reassure him, but I’m not going to. No more playing into that connection I pathetically want to have with him.

“Maybe.”

I go to walk away again.

“Can you … just …”

“What? ”

That smile is gone, and he’s chewing on his bottom lip as he looks me over. “You’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m so confused.”

The most stupid part is that he’s being genuine. He is confused. The way he can be confused about why I might be mad over him using me and then fawning all over the love of his life right in front of my face deserves to go in a parody somewhere. I don’t have to want a relationship with the guy to at least not want to see that.

I’m all for sex and quick hookups, but that doesn’t mean I actively want to know I’ve been used.

“Don’t worry about it. Soon enough, this will be over, and you won’t need to think about me again.”

“You mean … you don’t want to be friends when this is over?”

Goddamn that wounded tone. I could kick him. He’s not allowed to make me feel bad about wanting distance when he’s the whole reason I want it in the first place. “No.” I shrug. “But we’ll probably be dead, so it’s not like it will make a difference.”

His face falls, gaze dropping to the dirt between us and hand finally releasing my arm. I didn’t even realize he was still holding it, but now the grip is gone, my bare skin is more aware of what it lost than what it had. “I thought we were friends,” he says.

The way my mouth is rebelling against me should be illegal. We are friends. I like Perry. I hate that I’m making him look so pathetically needy when he’s one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met, but I need to protect myself too. Being sweet doesn’t give him the right to be ignorant. Still, I can’t stop myself from throwing him a bone. From guiding him to the answer that I know he’ll never come to on his own.

“We were,” I admit. “But for the future: being friends with a queer man doesn’t give you the excuse to use him.” This time, I really do walk away, and because I’m maybe even a little hurt, I can’t stop from throwing back over my shoulder, “Especially when you’re obviously in love with someone else.”

I escape inside the cabin before Perry can respond. Yes, I’m a coward, thank you, but I’m also not in a place where I can hear him talk about Arlie and how perfect she is. Or accept an apology after pointing out why I’m not so ready to be besties with him right now.

With a huge exhale, I flop back onto the ratty sofa, knowing there’s no way in hell I’d normally be this annoyed. Between having my life threatened, my brother missing, and the general comfort of my life turned on its head, I’m a teensy bit taking it out on Perry. Yes, it’s a valid reason, and normally I’d make a joke to brush it off, then never see him again, but for right now, there’s no escaping him, and everything else feels too raw.

I need some sleep. And a shower. Maybe after those two things, I’ll be able to think more clearly. There’s no way my annoyance with Perry will be able to resist his overenthusiastic energy for long. I’m doomed before I’ve even gotten started.

Couldn’t I have been almost shot by an asshole instead?

The front door shoves open, and I glance over to see Perry standing there, hand on the door, dumbstruck look on his face.

“I’m not in love with Arlie!”

Slowly, I straighten, eying what looks like shock and maybe offense radiating from him. “ You said it.”

“Yeah, but, I mean … it’s a joke. Like she’s gorgeous and scary and good at what she does, obviously?—”

“You’re not making the point you think you’re making.”

He scrambles closer and drops to his knees beside the couch. “No, like, I have a lot of respect for her. I love her. She’s awesome and kind of terrifying and a lot inspiring. I’d love to be as cool as her one day, but I’m not actually in love with her.” He lets out a little laugh. “I’m not a complete idiot. We’d be terrible together. I’d drive her nuts, and she’d do nothing but put me down. I have a bit more self-respect than that.”

I’m struggling to latch onto what he’s saying, but relief is pooling in my chest. “Only a bit more?”

“That requires more soul-searching than I’m capable of.”

My gaze travels the length of his face. “You know, sometimes I think you might be smarter than you let on. ”

He likes that. He doesn’t try to hold back the way his eyes light up. But that light slowly dims as he reaches for my hand.

“Sorry I upset you. And for whatever it means, I didn’t use you last night.”

I’m trying not to let his warm hand and bare chest take over my brain. I can still do the thinking of the things, dammit. “Would you have kissed me if you didn’t think you were going to die?”

He chews on his answer for a second. “No.”

At least he was honest, I guess, even if it proves I was right.

But Perry isn’t done. “And I would have missed out on the single best moment of my life.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I’m worried for a second that I hallucinated the rest of that. But he’s giving me that hopeful half grin, face so full of sincerity that I’m finding it hard to hold on to the delusion.

A laugh breaks from him. “Sorry, I’m being weird.” He looks down at where he’s holding my hand, thumb brushing along my knuckles. “Just saying … you’re a great kisser. Our kiss was great. Even the first one that you hated.”

“I didn’t hate it.”

“You hated it.”

Considering it was barely a kiss, there’s no point in arguing. “Only a little.” I give in to the confidence trying to take over. “The second was better though.”

“And the third?”

Thinking about those kisses has my mouth dry. “Definitely the third.”

My gaze drops back to where the dark hair stretches across his pecs before trailing down his torso and into his jeans. I didn’t get to see him last night, and if I had, I probably wouldn’t have lasted anywhere near as long as I did.

His collarbones cut deep depressions through his skin, curving in a delicate way so completely at odds with the rest of his very indelicate self. Perry is a steam train. A whirlwind. Inertia. The kind of force that can’t be stopped. Then there, hovering innocently over his chest, it feels like a calm secret just for me .

Before I even know what I’m doing, I lift my hand and run my fingertips over his collarbone.

Perry shudders, hot exhale puffing over my hair. It pulls my attention back to him and the way his eyes are boring into me.

“What about our fourth?” he whispers.

I try to think through the fog of lust, struggling to remember how many times we actually kissed. “Did we kiss four times?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “No. But I’m sure if we did, that fourth time would be even better.”

Fourth time.

His tongue swipes his parted bottom lip, and I watch the movement hungrily. My self-respect is long gone as the need bubbling in my gut takes over. I’m so frustratingly, embarrassingly attracted to him that all it takes is the offer to kiss me again in order to get my cock moving.

“I’d never use you,” he whispers. “We might not know each other very well, but I promise I’d never do that.”

And while we might not know know each other, in the small amount of time we’ve spent together, it’s like my body has learned more than my brain ever could. Like my instincts have latched onto him as a good person, and that’s fact, and everything Perry does keeps confirming it.

“I’ve heard fourth kisses are usually the best,” I say.

Pure lust flares in his eyes, and the sight is addictive. I want to yank him close, press our mouths together, but the anticipation wrapping around us is driving my need higher, and I’m not sure I’m ready yet. Last night has played on my mind all day; a second time will take over my life.

His grip on my hand tightens, and I wish it was around my cock.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mutters. “I just know that I really, really want to do it.”

“Then do it.”

I see the exact moment his resolve hardens, and my excitement spikes at the inevitable kiss.

At the way he moves closer .

How his breathing gets deeper.

The way my lips tingle, ready for him to?—

“ All clear. ”

We both jump at Lars’s voice as he strides into the cabin.

The moment around us shatters.

Perry tugs his hand back.

My want screams in protest, and it takes every last scrap of willpower not to curse Lars out.

But he just walks over to the small fridge, grabs a can of Coke, and pops it open.

“So, now they’re gone, what’s our next move?” he asks.

Neither of us can answer that.