Page 25 of Even in the Dark

“Hope you choke on a Himalayan tomato, princess!” he adds, even more loudly.

“Hope you don’t trip and break a leg on the way to your next AA meeting, Carmichael,” I shoot back, because even when my heart is beating as rapidly as it is right now, and I’m swallowing back tears, I will never let them see me sweat.

I stall for a second in the open doorway at the realization of how mean my comeback was. Silas threw out an insult pulled from our tongue-in-cheek banter a few minutes ago. I callously made light of his most personal struggle. And while I take pride in always hitting back hard enough to achieve a full knockout, I never aim below the belt. That comment was totally uncalled for.

I dab at the corners of my eyes with my thumbs, inhaling a long breath, then turn and stride back towards the counter, my heeled boots clacking against the honey-gold hardwood floor. When I reach Silas, I pull my purse from my backpack, remove two twenty-dollar bills and set them on the counter, forcing my eyes to meet his steely gaze. “Sorry. That was shitty… I’m just—I didn’t mean to say that.”

His head cocks, and he blinks those long lashes. Bites the inside of his cheek. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I snap, so harshly it basically counteracts my apology. But Silas doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he notices too much, because as I turn and head back towards the door, his low voice makes me falter in my tracks.

“You sure you’re alright? Jackie’s gonna be here in ten minutes, if you want to—”

“I said everything’s fine.” I cut him off. But when I reach the door, I pause and turn my head just enough that my voice will carry over to him, but not enough that he’ll be able to see thetear that escaped and is now trailing down my cheek. “Thanks, though.”

I fast-walk all the way back to my car. Because I also made a vow to never run from anything ever again.

Chapter Ten

Scarlett

Carter didn’t text again after that exchange yesterday afternoon, but I couldn’t get it off my brain last night. I’m still trying to reset my mood when I pull into the Braun’s driveway after breakfast. Phil is standing outside again to see Dylan off. He still looks stressed, but possibly less than yesterday.

Five minutes into his resolute silence and intense stare-down with the passing shrubs outside the passenger window, Dylan asks, “Your friend—the guy who ended up in hospital… He gonna be okay?”

It’s the first time I’ve heard him initiate conversation of any kind, and it shocks me enough that my gaze swings to him. The car jolts briefly before I bring my focus back to the road.

I school my features. “Seb? Yeah. His brain’s a little… scrambled. But I think he’ll be alright. It might take time, but he’s going to pull through.”

Dylan makes this sound that’s kind of a grunt, and I have no idea what it means. Then he goes back to staring out the window. But still, that was kind of… nice of him? It throws me off.

“I told you not to sit alone at lunch yesterday. I see you chose to go a different route.” I smile, so he knows I’m teasing.Sort of.

His only response is a nod. That’s it.A nod.What am I even supposed to do with that?

“Well, in case you change your mind about taking my advice, here’s another tip: change it up today. Find a group to eat with. I mean, not the center section, God forbid,” I make light of his comment the other day. Because this is me…being nice.Letting stuff slide. Making light of his asshole comment for his benefit. “You could hit up the student council table if you want a sure thing—they won’t turn anyone away. Pretty sure they have wet dreams about a new kid voluntarily sitting at their table.”

When I look over, he’s doing that thing where his tongue worries his lip ring. I don’t think he’s even aware of the habit. I wish I was equally unaware of it.

“And if Trevor Albrecht gets in your face, don’t engage,” I add. “He’s an irrelevant dipshit and not worth your time. Or risking a suspension over.”

“Think I can figure it out myself,” he says in that iron-flat tone he uses.

He. Is. Such. A. Jerk.

I inhale a slow breath, then let it out. “Just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Breathe in… Breathe out. “Got it.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” he mumbles.

And I lose it. “You are aware I’m possibly the only person in your life right now who isn’t either obsessed with you, determined to keep you on a two-foot leash, or intent on beating the crap out of you, right?” The car swerves when I take my eyes off the road to glance at him. I break to regain control of thecar, smiling smugly as his seatbelt whips him back and pins him to his seat. “So you might want to think twice about saying shit that’ll make me cut you loose. It isn’t some mandatory thing—me taking this crap from you. I could pull over right now and you’d have to walk to school.”

I regret it as soon as I say it. He’s acting like a dick because it’s all he knows; it isn’t personal. And I should be able to let his attitude slide off my ego for the twenty minutes it takes to drive to school, for God’s sake.

There’s still no inflection in his tone when he says, “Pull over, then.” He unbuckles his seatbelt.

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