“What about us?” he asked, his tone touched with humor. “I just drove across the country to commit murder for you. Earlier today I helped burn a couple bodies to cover your tracks. That implies a certain level of commitment on my part, don’t you think?”
“Well, I guess when you put it that way . . .”
Puck kissed me. Hard. “Go to sleep. Long drive tomorrow.”
I snuggled down, feeling myself start to relax. Then I remembered something important.
“Puck!” I said, pushing myself up. He lunged for his gun, ready for action. I froze.
“What is it?” he whispered urgently. “Did you hear something?”
I shook my head, staring at the weapon. “You think you could put that down?”
He nodded, then lowered it slowly.
“What is it?” he asked again. I laughed nervously, feeling stupid.
“Um, well earlier today I thought I was going to die.”
“Been trying not to think of that.”
“So . . .” I said, then I shook my head. This wasn’t the right time. “Let’s just go back to sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”
“Becs, whatever the fuck’s got you worked up, spit it out.”
“I love you. When Teeny was about to shoot me? It’s all I could think about. I love you and I wish I’d spent less time fighting with you. We have a lot to work out between us and that kind of scares me, but whatever happens you should know how I feel. You don’t have to say it back.”
God, this was awkward. Puck turned and set down his gun. Then he reached out and caught the back of my neck, pulling me in to rest his forehead against mine.
“I love you too,” he said. “Don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the line it did. They say love at first sight is bullshit, and they’re probably right. But whatever I felt for you that first night? It turned into something real. I’m never letting you go.”
“So what does that mean?” I asked. “I mean, I still feel the same way about controlling my own life.”
Puck sighed, then gave a low chuckle.
“We’ll have to figure it out later, because I’m really fuckin’ tired,” he admitted, falling back onto the bed. I snuggled into his side again, resting my hand on his chest as I closed my eyes.
EIGHTEEN
TWO MONTHS LATER
PUCK
I stepped out onto the roof, shutting my apartment window behind me. The air was chilly, and while it wasn’t freezing just yet, I still smelled fall in the air. It’d be time to put the snow tires on the truck soon. I’d have to park my bike for the winter, too. I still had the snowmobile of course, and it was a hell of a lot of fun. Just not as good as riding my bike.
“Did you remember the bread?” Becca called through her own open window. I held the French loaf up for her and she smiled. Ouch. Like getting punched in the gut every time. If anything, the gut punches were getting worse. Crazy about that girl.
“Thanks,” she said as I got close. I leaned over and kissed her, wondering whose bed we’d end up in tonight. I usually crashed at her place, but sometimes she liked to mix it up. She caught my hand as I stepped inside, tugging me toward the table.
“Come sit down,” she said. “Have a drink.”
“Wow, you went all out.”
She had. The table was covered in a deep maroon cloth that I recognized—she’d hemmed it with the brand new Singer sewing machine Regina had delivered last week. It wasn’t an antique, but it seemed to work all right. She’d bawled like a baby when she saw it.
That wasn’t the only crying she’d done. Becs had been terrified her foster parents would never forgive her for what she’d done, avoiding Earl and his wife for two days after we got home. Finally I’d had enough, so I put her on my bike and drove out to their place without any warning. There’d been an awkward silence, followed by hugs and tears and more dessert than should be legal.
Danielle had been less forgiving—she’d yelled at Becca for close to an hour before she decided not to hold a grudge. Blake stood behind her, arms crossed as he glared at me the entire time. I think he was somehow convinced it was all my fault. Maybe he’d just wanted in on the action. Either way, I was just thankful I didn’t have to fight him. Afterward, the girls erupted into tears and hugs, at which point Blake and I decided to join forces and get the hell out of there.
“So I’ve got your favorite beer here,” Becca announced, opening the fridge. “And I made you a pie. The spaghetti will be ready in just a minute.”
I took the beer and grabbed a chair, enjoying the sight of her cute little ass wiggling as she bustled around. Becca glanced at me, her face full of uncertainty. Then she blinked and I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“You have a good day at school?”
“Yes, it was fine,” she replied. “Um, speaking of school . . . I may be changing up my schedule a little. I’ve decided I really can’t wait four more months before graduation. They said I can start going full-time, accelerate things.”
I frowned. “You’re already crazy busy, between school and the Moose. How d’you figure you’ll pull that off?”
Becca frowned at me, but before she could respond the timer went off.
“Pasta’s ready.”
Five minutes later she handed me a plate full enough to feed the whole damned club.
“That’s a lot to eat,” I said, glancing at her. Becca smiled uncertainly, setting down her own plate. I waited for her to say something but she didn’t—just sipped her water, looking nervous. What the hell was going on here?