Page 54 of Taking Denver

“What will we do?” he asks.

I smile, putting out the cigarette while I think about my answer. This is a game we’ve played countless times. When it was late, and Ranger was asleep or gone, we’d make s’mores onthe terrace and talk about what we’d do if we weren’t here. Our imaginary plans have become more and more elaborate over time.

“I would learn to yodel,” I say. “And I’d move to some freezing cold place in Europe and become a famous yodeler. How about you?”

I look up at him, and he’s grinning. “I would be right there with you, but I’m ice skating. I bet I’d look great in those outfits. Deal?”

“Deal.” We fist-bump and fall quiet again.

“You should probably know,” he says. “You own Pulse now.”

I groan. “Seriously?”

He nods sadly. “I overheard him talking. You’re officially the owner of all Luxe nightclubs. Sorry.”

Ranger owns three nightclubs in the city, and I’ve never set foot in any of them. I don’t like the scene; it’s full of drugs and the elite, two things I’ve actively avoided my entire life. I know nothing about running clubs, but apparently, that’s what I’m doing now.

“Denver?”

I look at him. “Yeah?”

“Did you do it?”

I wish I’d kept the cigarette lit so I could focus on something other than the look he gives me. Of all the things his father has done, and it’s the worst kept secret in the world what Ranger does, it’s me who Axel would be most disappointed in if I failed him. He expects more. I expect more of myself, too.

“No,” I say.

“Promise?”

I nod. “I promise.”

“Good. I don’t want him to have anything over you.” He hugs me tightly, and I listen to his heartbeat. “I’m going back to bed. I need at least twenty hours.”

Axel leaves, and I finish my wine and wander upstairs to my room. I rub my arms, the chill sitting on my skin, goosebumps cascading over me as I stare at my bed. I don’t want to get into it. I don’t want to sleep alone. And the last bed I was in in this house was Ranger’s.

I haven’t slept in this room in years, but I’m back as if no time has passed. The bedding has been washed but not changed to another style. The makeup is still on my vanity, free of dust or cobwebs. It’s a shrine, a tomb waiting to be reopened. Like Ranger always knew I’d come back.

Someone knocks on the open door, and I face it.

“The Grim Reaper. What news do you have for me?” I ask, sitting on the bed.

Ranger steps into my room and closes the door. I sit up, a ripple of anxiety lifting the hairs on my arms. Alone with him. Again.

“I don’t like arguing with you.”

My shoulders soften. “What?”

His jaw tenses, and he won’t meet my eye. “Being away from you these last few months has been… unpleasant. Now that you’re back, I don’t want to fight.”

I wet my lips, heart pounding, terrified of falling victim to pretty words.

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

Ranger stares at me, his jaw so tight I think his teeth might crack. He runs a hand across his mouth. “You’ll have to expand on that ridiculous question.”

I grip the covers. “Are you going to force me to be part of this?”

His eyes darken. “Part of what?”

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