Chapter 15 #3
I continue to stare, and he darts his eyes toward me.
‘I want see Leaf and Thorne.’
My brows fly up. ‘Why?’
Denver grimaces and shrugs. ‘Leaf is my friend, and Thorne was there the first time all of this happened. I want to talk to him.’
I feel a pulse of hesitation in my chest. As a rule, unless they’re on my father’s payroll, we do not involve law enforcement. And right now, I’m pretty sure Percy will kill both me and Denver for violating that rule, especially when we’re so close to getting out.
But Denver seems to read my hesitation correctly, and he takes a step closer, setting his hand on my arm. ‘Thorne won’t say anything. I promise. I won’t tell him you’re involved. I just want to know if he can help find who this is.’
Biting my lip, I let myself think it over because it’s not the worst idea in the world. It’s the first lead in this whole mess, and if Thorne knows where to find this first stalker, then it’ll give us the chance to verify if it’s the same person or if this is something entirely new.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I know where.’
Denver’s face softens. ‘Thank you.’
I lead him back to the front door again, and we step off the porch, our hands brushing as we reach the stone path. A tingle moves through my skin, and I wonder if I should hold his hand.
Does he want that? I’m not sure.
I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t think I could handle any kind of rejection right now.
He shifts closer to me as we take the small trail between properties, like he wants my reassurance but can’t ask for it, and eventually, I give in and take his hand.
He offers me a smile that makes all my nerves settle, and I bring his wrist up to my lips, kissing his warm skin before letting our hands hang between us.
The moment is softer than I’m used to and quiet just the way I like.
It’s yet another way that Denver feels so fucking perfect and one more reason that no matter what, I can’t let him go.
The walk is long. There’s half a mile between each house, but I don’t mind it.
The sun is low in the sky, and the breeze is cool, and Denver doesn’t seem to be in pain the way he was before.
The outdoors seem almost healing, and I understand that better than most people.
When I’m at my worst, a nap over a few old graves brings me comfort in ways that nothing else does.
And if I can give this to him, I will. No questions. No hesitations.
Denver tugs on my wrist and points. ‘That one.’
I wrinkle one side of my nose. ‘Yes.’
‘You met your neighbors?’
My lips quirk, and I shrug. ‘No. But I’ve seen them.’ Well, I’d seen their properties, and we did a cursory check about who lived there, but it seems like we missed the man who worked for the FBI, which is something I’ll have to talk to Percy about.
Denver lifts a brow. ‘Do they know you’ve seen them?’
‘No.’
Denver bursts into a soft laugh and squeezes my hand.
I like that he’s laughing for me. A real one.
I’m not good at making people happy. Most of the time, I get it wrong and fuck it up.
I’m too much most of the time. Too scary, too obsessive, too divorced from the morals of polite society.
But his laugh, and the occasional small quirk of his mouth, makes me feel like I’m not messing up.
As we come up the path, the door to the house suddenly opens, and I see a man in capri pants and an extra-large shirt burst out. His hair is wild, and his movements are a little clumsy.
Denver and I come to a stop, watching as he flings himself off the porch and grabs a shovel leaning against the railing. He swings up too fast and knocks himself in the forehead, and I hear a thud and then a myriad of curses as he leans against the railing to catch himself from falling.
“Damn you!” I think he’s talking to the shovel, muttering at it like it’s personally betrayed him. And then, as we get closer, he starts swinging it onto the ground. Dirt shoots up with each downward hit, and Denver’s eyes widen with each erratic movement.
I clear my throat, and the man glances up, sees us, and stops like he hadn’t just gotten into a fight with a shovel.
His face shifts into something almost normal, and he sends up a wave. “Denver!” he says and signs at the same time.
The shovel is forgotten, falling onto the ground with a loud clatter, and he rushes toward us.
‘That’s Leaf,’ Denver says as the man trips over something, arms windmilling out beside him, before he corrects himself.
I nod, and Denver grins as Leaf skids to a stop before us.
‘Hi. What’s up? Why you here?’ His gaze falls to the gash on Denver’s forehead, and his lips fall. ‘You’re hurt?’
His gaze flicks to me, and he scowls. Not sure what that means, but I think it’s not friendly.
‘No, it wasn’t him. It was…’ Denver sighs loudly, and Leaf reaches out and pulls him into a hug.
‘You need drink,’ he signs when he pulls back. ‘We can chat-chat.’
Denver nods and lets Leaf lead him toward his house, and I’m left to follow.
He may need to time to chat to a friend, but I’m not leaving him alone.
Not now. Not ever.