Cassie isn’t as chatty as usual as we brace against the cold and walk to the donut shop. I think she feels she overstepped some boundary, so I try to distract her. I tell her about my family—the good parts, the parts where we went on vacation together to California when we were little and actually had fun, and about my brother Joel’s antics—and she starts to relax as we stand in line.
Unfortunately, now I’m the one tensing up. The memories bring a sting of pain to my chest. I used to like Joel back then. He was a menace, but he wasn’t trying to mold me into something I was not.
Those days are long past.
By the time we get our coffee and donuts, Cassie looks happier and is telling me about her dream to work with damaged pets. She wants to make a difference, and it reminds me again of my own puny attempts to right the world and of the people I lost. Those I wasn’t able to save.
“You okay?” Cassie frowns at me. She has powdered sugar on her top lip.
I smile and nod. “Yeah.”
“Love these donuts.” And as if to prove it, she stuffs her mouth with the rest, making me giggle. She jabs a finger at me. “You’re not eating.”
I hurry to rectify that mistake. After all, it buys me time to think—about the fight, the things my family keep pounding into me, my feeble attempts to help others.
Was it worth it? Does anything I do make a difference? I’ve never managed to save anyone. What if Dad is right? What if even Blake is right? I’m not Superman. Maybe buying a few homeless people lunch or giving them a blanket makes no difference in the end. Maybe it’s all for nothing.
“Hey.” Cassie nudges me with her elbow. “That guy’s staring at you. Do you know him?”
I look up, startled, half-eaten donut in my hand. Sure enough, he’s at his usual spot, his pale hair catching the light, and he seems to be staring our way.
“He’s not looking at me,” I say with conviction.
“Yes, he is. He’s been like that for a while.”
I swallow hard. “Maybe he’s looking at you.” Cassie is so pretty it’s no wonder. I bet even from a distance she has the guys falling like flies.
But this makes no sense. The guy was looking this way yesterday, too.
He’s still staring, his hands fisted at his sides. His whole being seems focused on us, and it makes me shiver. Then he spins on his heel and enters the tattoo shop, the door banging behind him. What the hell?
My mouth hangs slack. I turn to Cassie, and I find an amused expression on her face. “This has happened before, hasn’t it?” she mutters.
“What?”
“This guy. You were not surprised to see him.”
I stuff my face with the rest of my donut and chew as slowly as possible. I don’t know what to think. He may be crazy. He may be dangerous. Maybe I should stop coming here.
He may look an angel, but, as my experience with Blake has shown me, inside he may be rotten as hell.
Chapter Three
Micah
Dammit. I spent the whole night and morning psyching myself to go talk to her, to find out if it’s her, Ev, and she showed up with this blond chick. What do I do now?
I march back inside Damage Control and find Seth sweeping the floor, dark head bent over the chore. He has some Native American blood in him, just like his cousin, Shane, who’s also an apprentice here. His tattoos climb his neck, the most impressive one a snake—the design Zane inked on all of us strays, the ones he and Rafe took in. The Damage Boyz, as they call us.
Seth, Shane and Jesse don’t pay for their apprenticeship—of course not, none of us have any money to our names—but they clean the shop while learning the craft.
I step around Seth and into my booth. I sit on my stool and swivel around.
“Hey, Micah.” It’s Ocean, the other tattoo artist. I often wonder if he dyes his hair blue to match his name. “Going out for beers tonight at a new place nearby, Halo. Hear of it?”
I close my eyes and rub by face. “Nope. Look, I got work to do.” Bullshit, I’m still on a break, but so what.
“Well, Shane and Jesse will be there,” says Ocean, who can’t take a fucking hint. “Seth says he’ll swing by, too. Wanna come?”
I shove my fingers into my short hair and sigh. “Maybe another time.”
“Come on, buddy.” Ocean grins widely. Yeah, nothing can get the sunny boy of Damage Control down. “You never meet with us.”
“I’m not sociable, okay?”
“Come on. We’ll play pool and hang out, and then we could—”
“Hey. Ocean.” I lift a hand, my patience fraying. “Not tonight, all right?”
“Sure, man.” He turns away, so I’m not sure I hear his next words correctly, but it sounds like, “Just don’t shut out your family.”
Shit. I lean against the counter after he’s gone. Didn’t realize I was shutting anyone out. Maybe I should meet the guys tonight. Maybe...
Ev.
Who cares who she’s with? I need to see if it’s her.
I shoot out of my seat, and I’m out of Damage Control in two strides. My open jacket flaps as I cross the street, making a beeline for the donut shop.
Only the two girls aren’t sitting at the bench anymore. I peek inside the shop, then down the street. The hell? I wasn’t gone for so long, was I? Will I miss my chance once again? It was only yesterday I ran after her, calling for her, but she never turned around.
I catch glimpse of a slender girl rounding the corner, maybe fifteen yards away. I hesitate, but the slight limp gives her away, and I run after her. My combat boots thump rhythmically on the sidewalk, faster and faster, as I weave between passersby and pound down the avenue.
Where is she?
Slowing down, I look around but can’t see her. “Fuck!” I turn in a circle, tugging on my short hair.
I set off again, pushing through a throng at a burger stand and then a bus stop. What the hell? She was right ahead of me. With her limp, she can’t go fast. I pace up and down, cursing, and have to stifle a cough. My lungs feel tight.
Useless. She’s vanished into thin air. Could be a sign I should let this go. It probably isn’t her, and even if it is, no reason to butt into her life.
Fuck this. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I turn around to go and brace against the cold wind.
Then I see her. She’s not even ten feet away. Dressed in jogging tights and a long hoodie, she’s hurrying away from me. For one fleeting second, she glances over her shoulder, right at me, and I see stark fear in her eyes.
Fuck. She’s afraid of me. Of course she is. I’m acting like a goddamn stalker, watching her, going after her. I lift my hands and shake my head, taking a step back, then another, bumping into people.
But she’s not looking at me anymore. She darts forward, her ponytail flying. My eyes narrow when I see her stumble.
Damn. Without a second thought, I sprint after her, closing the small distance in a heartbeat. She’s going down, her knee buckling. Making a grab for her arm, I manage to snag her sleeve and hold her up. Time stops, stretches like toffee, and my whole world shrinks around my hand that’s keeping her from falling and her whiskey-colored eyes, huge in her pale face.
Fixed on me.
I stare back. Is it her? Is she Ev? Suddenly, I’m unsure. My memory is hazy. The eyes... That’s all I really remember, but can I trust a mind that was burning with fever?
Finally, I gather my wits and haul her upright. Her hand flexes, and she grips my arm in a surprisingly strong hold. Her other hand closes around a fistful of my shirt that peeks through my open jacket, and she winces as she straightens.
She won’t look at me now. I need to see her eyes again. With a fingertip I lift her chin, and swallow hard. I open my mouth to speak her name, but she beats me to it.
“Who are you?” she whispers.
I’m speechless. She’s so pretty—her mouth wide and soft, her cheeks flushed, her eyes so bright they burn into me. I slide my other hand around her, to the small of her back, feeling the sweet curve of her hips and her slim waist. She smells of flowers.