34
Idon’t sleep. I spend the night wandering back and forth between Riggs’s bed and checking on everyone else.
Birdie crawled in bed with Murphy and the two of them look like children again: messy hair, cheeks flush from sleep.
Rafe is on the couch in the living room.
I’m pretty sure it’s because his ribs are still bothering him and that’s the comfiest place he can actually find a few hours.
But I can’t do the same. Every time I close my eyes I can’t breathe.
I slip into my shoes and pull one of Riggs’s hoodies over my head as I quietly sneak out of the house and make my way to the garage.
It’s such a simple thing. Four walls made of old steel, painted a blue that at one time was bright, bold and visible from the road even in the dark, but now after years of abuse and weather, it’s faded, chipped, and barely recognizable as the same building.
I slide through the door not bothering to close it behind me and weave around the furniture and cars toward the back bay where they parked the Cuda.
The sheet falls from it like a gust of wind has caught it, hitting the floor without a sound as I run my fingers over the roof and the window frame. The driver’s seat calls to me and I climb inside, pressing my forehead against the steering wheel as tears stream down my hot cheeks.
Sometimes, even now, I can still feel him in here. Like his soul is forever tied to the metal and leather. His spicy scent, his infectious laughter, the look of his caramel skin when the sun hit it through the front window. Every joke, every kiss, every freckle and moan.
He’s imprinted in every stitch and screw.
“What are you doing?”
I lift my head to see Riggs—sleepy, shirtless, and confused. His bare feet pad across the cold garage floor toward me and the Cuda like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
A month ago I wanted you dead. I wanted you to feel how lonely the darkness was without Koa. Now I—I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from crying harder at the sight of him.
“I don’t know,” I admit and he pauses, his hand rubbing across his face before he pads back the way he came, pushing the doors wide open to expose the pitch night sky and then wanders around to the bench grabbing something before sliding into the passenger seat.
“Jesus,” he groans at how far forward it is.
“I usually sit there,” I huff quietly, but his annoyance brings a smile to my face.
“Here.” He hands me the keys.
I hold them between my fingers, contemplating his suggestion before pushing them into the ignition and turning the engine over. It purrs to life, and unlike the last time I was inside of it, there’s no panic, no fear, no adrenaline. It’s just me and vibration.
“You aren’t wearing shoes.” I look down at his bare feet.
“Drive, Cress.”
I don’t protest this time. I don’t deflect or distract. I shift the Cuda and the feeling of it rolling to a start is euphoric. I get us out to the highway. Riggs leans in the passenger seat with his eyes closed as I pick up speed and let the road rip away all of our problems.
But we’ll never be able to run from Koa’s ghost. I keep replaying what Liloa said in my head, over and over like a broken record.
It may cost you everything in this war. But are we at war?
At first it didn’t feel like it—we were just fighting our way out of an impossible situation—but the deeper we got, the more doors we opened trying to figure out the truth, the more danger we ended up in and we still don't have any real answers.
The only time it doesn’t feel like we’re driving in circles is when we’re alone. Riggs reaches over, his eyes still closed, and places his hand on top of mine over the stick and everything floods back.
2009
“Knock knock.” Riggs appears through the back door of our house, throwing a pack of gum on the table next to my school books. “You’re still studying?”
“I can’t graduate unless I pass my exams,” I say, reaching out for the package but he grabs it back. His long, muscular body leans over the kitchen table and the necklace he wears peeks out of the collar of his loose t-shirt alongside a blossom of new tattoos I’ve never seen.
“Tinā-Mu is going to have your head for marking up your pretty skin, you know?” My eyes lift from the ink and the sight of his chest to his endless, predatory blue eyes.
“It makes me look tough.” He smirks.
“No it doesn’t.” I shake my head and he rolls his eyes. “Can I have my gum back?” I ask, putting my palm up right. I need it to study; it’s the only thing keeping me focused.
“Not until you come for a drive.”
“I don’t have time for that today,” I huff.
I have to study for another two hours, get dinner ready for my mom and Birdie before rushing down to work at the clinic.
It’s a dream part-time job, I work the desk, get experience from the nurses, I’ve been learning so much and watching them help people…
I want to do that. All the time. But I can’t unless I get a scholarship.
There’s not a drop of money in this old house for university. I have to earn it.
“You don’t have time for me?” He pouts and I want to punch him.
“I don’t have time for anyone, ever…” I sigh, frustrated.
Exhausted. Koa’s been gone a week to only God knows where.
No one can get hold of him and it’s starting to make me sad.
But that’s him. He disappears sometimes and he always comes back, but it’s the silence that worms under my skin and causes me to get antsy. He usually fills it so easily.
“Come on, Cress—one drive, we can pick up dinner on the way back,” he says like he can read my mind and is trying to check off my list. “The drive will help you clear your head so you can study more.”
I stare up at him, knowing that no matter what I say, he’s going to convince me. At this point I’m just wasting time arguing with him.
“And milkshakes.”
“Chocolate-banana.” He winks.
I follow him out to the car and within seconds I have to admit how right he is.
“I feel better,” I confess and he smirks.
I look down at his hand around the stick, how close my pinky is to his on my thigh and watch as he reaches over with such ease and familiarity.
He puts his hand over mine and brings it back to the stick, shifting gears and speeding up as his palm warms the top of my hand and the vibration of the engine eases the knots in my muscles.
Just like it always does. He knows exactly what to do, how to do it, when it’ll work, when it won’t.
I still haven’t told Riggs that Koa asked me on a date.
It feels wrong knowing that Koa is flirting but never around Riggs. Never in his face. We can’t hurt him like that, it’s cruel. But why is it cruel? Riggs has never seen me like that. He looks at me like I’m his little sister. I’m just another sibling to him.
He doesn’t ask me to drive today. He takes me down to Joey’s and we get burgers. I don’t ask him where he got the money for it. Then back up to the other edge of town for the french fries, because the ones at Joey’s are never crispy enough for me.
Our last stop is the Sundown, a small diner on the turn off right before the road home. Riggs opens my door for me before we approach the take out counter and order.
“Just a little one,” I remind him and he rolls his eyes.
“Two banana-chocolate milkshakes, one small, one medium,” he tells the girl behind the counter. I never really come up with him. I usually stay in the car and it’s a little surprising that he orders two of the same flavor.
“Why do you order the same one as me?” I ask him as he pays.
“Because you always order a small one and it’s never enough, so I switch the cups when I give them to you,” he says, looking over at me.
I watch her hand them to him, realizing that the one he typically gives me is larger than the small cup. “You let me think this is a small?” I laugh, taking the medium.
“It’s better than listening to you slurp the bottom of the Styrofoam with the straw like an elephant,” he teases as we walk.
“I do not,” I scoff, leaning against the car and bringing the straw to my lips.
“You’re my favorite elephant though, so it’s okay.” He shrugs, still staring at me like I’m the only thing he sees. When he does that it makes me warm, unreasonably so, and I can’t help but ask.
“What?”
“Just wanted to look at you for a second,” is always his answer. Once confronted the attention always fades. He swallows tightly, spinning his straw around aimlessly, his eyes dropping to his cup.
I always want to ask him why he does that, but I’m always too much of a coward, knowing the answer might break me.
“Hey Cress?” he asks after a minute of quiet.
“Yeah?” I meet his eyes and everything around us dulls in color in comparison.
“I was just thinking maybe after you’re done with your exams we could go out to celebrate or something,” he asks quietly, nervously. I’ve never seen him so sheepish. Not in ten years of knowing him.
“Yeah that could be fun. Maybe we could take the kids to—”
“Just us.” He cuts me off before I can get my idea out and he does it with his lips, the softest, sweetest of kisses. His lips brush against mine, banana, chocolate and the terrifying thrum of anxiety. It’s perfect, it’s dangerous.
I want more.
I shouldn’t.
I can’t.
“Oh,” I whisper, pulling back. I lick my bottom lip as the heat rises on my cheeks.
He steps back like I’ve slapped him and I want to reach out and bring him back to me. My fingers sting and my heart screams.
“You don’t want to?” he asks carefully.
“It’s not that,” I swallow tightly. “Uh—” I inhale, the milkshake suddenly makes me nauseous. “Riggs—”
“It’s him isn’t it?” His expression hardens. “I should have never told him.” Riggs backs away further, his hand tightening around the cup as he throws it in the bin a few feet away. His eyes darting back and forth between my lips and eyes.