Page 28 of Riot Act
I take the apple from him, shove it into my own mouth, and take a bite. Sugar explodes across my tongue, making my mouth ache. “You know—” I swallow. “It’s creepy to watch people while they’re sleeping.”
He laughs, one dark eyebrow arching suggestively. “Oh, I’ve done way,wayworse.”
“I don’t even wanna know.” Groaning, I slump back into the couch, throwing my arm over my face, covering my eyes. Wren grabs the apple back and continues to eat. Neither of us says anything for a second, but then I’m speaking; I don’t even know that I’m going to until my mouth is opening and the words are coming out. “I’m sorry. Y’know. About the boat.”
“It’s fine.”
I raise my elbow and peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “What do you mean, it’s fine?”
“You really think you’d have been allowed anywhere near that thing if it wasn’t insured for twice it’s fucking value? You probably did my old man a favor. And when have I ever resented an opportunity to piss him off, anyway? You should have seen his fucking face.”
“So what you’re really trying to say is that you’re sorry for punching me on the steps yesterday.”
“No,” he says dryly. “I’mnotsaying that. You deserved that fair and square. Where were you this morning?”
I whip around to look at him. “Huh?”
“I heard you get up and burn out of here at three or something. Where the hell d’you have to be in such a hurry?”
I haven’t breathed a word about my mother’s cancer diagnosis. I don’t know why, I just haven’t. I’m not ready to talk about it now either. For some reason, talking about what happened last night, especially what happened with Presley…I have zero interest in rehashing any of it. I don’t lie to my boys, though. So I’m rude as fuck instead. “None of your goddamn business.”
“Nice.” He isn’t fazed; the sarcasm’s only for show. “I’m gonna grab some sushi. You want some?”
I don’t think Wren’s eaten as much sushi in Japan as I have. “Get the fuck out of here with your disgusting Hicksville New Hampshire sushi. I’d rather starve.”
He gets up and drops something onto my chest. “Suit yourself.” It’s his apple core. The fucker’s just dumped his gnawed on apple core right on top of me. Asshole. I grab it by the stalk, ready to hurl it back at him, but he’s already countering—by holding his ginormous book out at arm’s length. Right over my junk.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Jacobi.” I bare my teeth, just to let him know I mean it, but he doesn’t appear to be taking the threat seriously. He arches that suggestive eyebrow again.
“Tell me where you went last night.”
“No.”
He shrugs. “All right.” The book falls. I have just enough time to deflect it with my knee, sending it crashing to the floor, before it can land directly on my balls.
I snarl, launching myself up off the sofa. “Good job I have the reflexes of a cat.” The fucker vaults over the coffee table before I can grab him, though. I swear to God, when I get my hands on the bastard—
“Let it go, Davis. You sank a one-point-three-million-dollar yacht and I forgave you. We’re nowhere near even.”
“Oh, we’re fucking even!” I let him go, though. I don’t have time to start a fight with him right now. I have a very pressing prior engagement to attend to. A way more important fight that’s been brewing for fucking years.
11
PRES
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The heart monitor chimes with regularity even though my pulse feels like it’s dancing all over the place. I’m swimming in sedatives and pain meds but I can still feel my anxiety, crawling over my skin. When I woke up five hours ago, I already knew where I was. The knowledge was a heavy weight pressing down on top of my chest, and I couldn’t get out from underneath it.
Jonah, standing by the closet door, wreathed in night, waiting for me to wake up…
“Hey, Red. Did you miss me?”
I swallow down the rolling wave of nausea that rises from the pit of my stomach. I’m not in any pain. Not now. That will change when the meds wear off. I keep willing that to happen—for the miasma clouding my mind to lift. I’d give anything to be able to think straight right now, but whenever I try, my thoughts slip away from me like smoke.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28 (reading here)
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132