Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
MONROE
The next day, I throw myself into work, despite the lingering feeling of Crew on my lips and the stalker’s eyes constantly on me. I’ve started to feel the heat of them everywhere I go. It’s become my constant shadow, a part of me now.
I pull on my PPE and start the washing and disinfecting process of Mr. Acers. Once he’s thoroughly clean, I get to work on massaging his body to relieve the rigor mortis, and setting his facial features, needing to use sutures for this one to keep his lips closed and mouth in the correct form.
Taking care of the dead has never bothered me or made me squeamish.
I’ve never thought it was any different than taking care of the living.
Except, it’s easier to make up a narrative in my head about the type of person they were and the life they led, while I pay my respects to the body that made that living possible.
I often think about how my friends were taken care of and if the mortician struggled to prep their bodies.
I was in a medically induced coma for eight weeks to give my body time to heal from my injuries.
I do know they all had closed-casket celebrations of life instead of viewings, and I can only imagine why.
The image of Nora’s hand slipping from mine in less than a heartbeat as she was thrown through the middle of the car and out the windshield will never leave me.
After I’ve finished with my tasks, I make a small incision and start the arterial embalming process. I finish with Mr. Acers right before lunch, and instead of going to the breakroom, I decide to eat out, craving a sandwich from Maggie’s and needing some fresh air.
Just as I’m about to cross the street, a firm hand grips my forearm, pulling me back. I stumble with a gasp, but quickly right myself and come face-to-face with Tyler’s twin brother, Zach. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach.
“Glad I caught you.”
“Hi, Zach.” I don’t know where to look, so I shift from foot to foot, nervously playing with the hem of my dress.
Every time I look at his face, I see Tyler’s eyes through the rearview mirror.
A year after the accident, Nora’s family moved out of Washington, claiming they needed a fresh start.
As much as I’d never want to really leave Amberwood, I get the appeal.
Everyone knows everyone here, and there’s no hiding your secrets.
Why would my best friend’s parents want a constant reminder that I got to live when their daughter didn’t?
Javier was a foreign exchange student who was living with Zach and Tyler’s family that year, so that just leaves me.
Alone. Here in Amberwood. A constant walking reminder of the tragedy that rocked every single one of the residents to their core.
“How are you, Roe?”
“I’m good. Is there something you need? I only have so long, and I need to go grab my lunch before getting back to work.”
“I just wanted to warn you about that man you were with the other day. That’s Crew Lawson, but he’s known as Malice.
He’s the Hell’s Heathens bloodhound, their resident psychopath.
You need to stay away from him, Roe. He’s dangerous,” Zach mansplains like I live under a rock and haven’t heard the rumors or read the name tag on Crew’s leather vest with my own eyes.
Crew may look dangerous, and he very well may be dangerous if the rumors are true, but he’d never hurt me. I don’t actually have any reason to know that, but it’s a feeling, something deep and raw that I’m confident about.
“I appreciate the warning, Zach, but I promise you, I’m fine.” I take a step forward, ready to leave, when Zach’s hand grabs around my forearm, making me wince.
“You don’t understand. He’s killed people, Roe. The rumors are as bad as it gets. Why are you hanging out with him anyway? Trying to stir up some trouble?”
“Excuse me?” I say, ripping my arm out of his hold. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you really should mind your own business.”
Zach chuckles under his breath, surprising me. “You know, I’ve heard about this: people who cheat death either become reckless or put themselves in a bubble. Here we all were thinking it was the latter, but clearly, we were wrong.”
“I didn’t cheat death, Zach, I was brought back to life against my own will.
You all should mind your own business and not be so worried about what I’m doing.
” I make another attempt to step away from him, but Zach’s eyes squint, his arm reaching out and grabbing me again, jerking me into his front.
My hands connect with his chest as I try to push him off me. “What are you doing? Let me go!”
“If you’re looking to be a reckless slut, I’d be happy to let you work it out with me. Consider it payment for surviving when my other half didn’t. I’d like to know what makes you so special.”
What happens next is a blur. One moment, Zach has a brutal hold on my biceps, and the next, I’m standing behind Crew, his arm reaching behind him to hold me there and out of the way.
I blink away the haze and find Zach pressed against the brick building we’re standing in front of, Crew’s hand around his throat, holding him in place and restricting his airway.
Zach grapples with Crew’s arm, but it doesn’t do any good.
“She doesn’t owe you or anyone a fucking thing. You so much as look in her direction, and I will gut you like a fish while you’re still alive. And if you ever touch her, I’ll make sure you and the rest of your family join your brother in the afterlife. Nod if you understand me.”
Zach nods, and Crew squeezes one last time, like he’s having to restrain himself before letting him go. Zach falls to his knees, coughing and heaving air into his lungs.
Zach’s warning replays in my head. That Crew is dangerous. But just like I’ve felt all along, he’s not a danger to me, and watching him defend me, watching him hold Zach like that, a warmth spreads low in my belly, my panties dampening with arousal.
I’m so fucked up.
Crew turns to face me, clearly not worried about Zach behind us as he struggles to get his lungs what he needs to survive. Crew’s hands gently cradle my face, the hands that just held Zach by his throat and promised him a slow, painful death. He touches me with reverence, so gentle and sweet.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” His voice is soft, so at odds with how he sounded while threatening Zach.
I shake my head, looking into the inky darkness of his eyes. They swallow all the light instead of reflecting it, unreadable but expressive at the same time.
“Words, pixie.”
“My arms are sore, but he didn’t hurt me.
I’m okay.” Crew’s eyes bounce all over my face like he’s working hard to read my expression.
He doesn’t seem convinced. I don’t know what comes over me, and I couldn’t explain it if I tried.
But in this moment, I want—I need—to put him at ease.
I can’t bear the tortured look on his face.
I lift up on my toes, gripping his forearms for leverage as I pull him down to me.
My hands wrap around his neck, and my lips meet his.
He takes a moment to respond, but then his arms curl around my waist, easily lifting me off the ground and standing tall.
My feet dangle as I’m held in his arms, as he holds me close.
He tastes like mint gum and something so wholly him.
His tongue tangles with mine, kissing me like he’s desperate for it, like he’s waited all day to be able to do it.
I tease the barbell pierced through his tongue, and I love the way it feels against mine.
I can’t help but imagine what it would feel like on other parts of my body.
Crew sets me back down on the ground, his hands moving up to clasp my cheeks before he drops several more chaste kisses to my lips, like he can’t get enough.
“Oh! I have a present for you!”
“A present?”
“Yeah, and it’s the perfect time!”
Crew pulls a sleek black case from his pocket and hands it to me. At first look, it passes for a jewelry box, but when I open it, I’m staring down at a quite beautiful knife. It folds closed, and the pommel is a stunning mother of pearl. I run my finger delicately across the smooth, white surface.
“It’s beautiful, Crew, thank you.” Of all the things I thought a man would gift me someday, this wasn’t even in the top one hundred. But somehow, I like this more than any of those other options.
“I wanted you to have something to protect yourself with.” I glance behind him at Zach, who’s still struggling to breathe.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him as I put it in my purse.
“Hungry?” he asks.
“I’m starving.” Crew steps away from the building and onto the cobblestone sidewalk. I follow him, but as I get closer, I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers together. He flinches, and I’m suddenly unsure if holding it in public was the right move.
“Is this okay?”
“You want to hold my hand? Out here?”
I look around at downtown Amberwood, at the people I’ve known my entire life, wandering around town, living their lives.
I look at the businesses that have been here longer than I have and then back up at Crew.
My head cranes backward to look at him. He’s so much taller than me, and I secretly love that.
I hate that he looks so confused, so concerned, like he’s spent his life hiding and has become so accustomed to the dark, he doesn’t dare step into the light.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Crew gestures to himself with his hands, giving me a look that says, “hello?” He’s wearing a pair of tight, ripped denim jeans that hang low on his hips, a tight black T-shirt, his leather vest, and combat boots that are laced up past his ankles.
He looks bad-boy hot, and I’m obsessed with the stark difference between the two of us.
He’s rebellion and anti-conformism, and I’m playing it safe.