Page 182 of Chaos

When my gaze locks on something on the other side of the ring, warm is the last thing I feel.

Ricky is already looking at me. Staring so intently, so unnervingly, so unexpectedly, it takes me a while to register anything else beside him—to recognize who he’s with.

And when I do…

Well, fuck.

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She locks him out of that wonderful, complicated head again.

He carves a basswood key, and he wishes that was enough.

Finn doesn’t askwhy I suddenly want to leave; he just drives me home.

On the way, he asks what happened a single time, and when I don’t answer, he doesn’t bring it up again. He leaves me alone. When I clamber out of his truck and stomp into the main house without a word, he lets me. He doesn’t follow me upstairs to my old bedroom either, and I’m grateful for that because I’d feel really, really bad about slamming a door in his face.

I don’t mean to do it. I don’t actively ignore him. I’m just too lost in my own thoughts to award any attention to anything else. I’m mentally slotting puzzle pieces together. I’m obsessively pondering why the fuck Ricky was rubbing elbows with the fucking Weber boys.

And eventually, I’m coming to the conclusion that I was right. Five people did break into the A-frame.

Ricky, Vic, Ethan, Carl, and Clint.

The five horsemen of my own personal apocalypse.

I wish I could say I didn’t get it, but I do. I know exactly why they’ve joined forces.

Me.

I did it.

And I’m as furious with myself as I am with them.

Sprawled on my bed, I stare at the ceiling. I think some more—I think myself into damn circles. It doesn’t particularly matter, but I try to figure out thehowas well as thewhy. Thewhenof it all. Is it just about me, or is it Ruin too? Lux? My brother? What’s the goal here, what the hell are they trying to do? It makes sense, and it doesn’t. I get it, but I don’t.

I don’t know what to do, but I can think of one thing.

When footsteps sound from the hallway, I quickly roll onto my side, my back to the door that cautiously creaks open, and pretend to be asleep.

More quiet, tentative footfalls. A clunking sound as someone sets something on my dresser—food, I think, if the mouthwatering smell is anything to go by. The groan of an old bedframe as someone perches behind me, rough denim against the strip of bare skin where my sweater has ridden up. Warm, calloused fingers I’d recognize anywhere sweep my hair away from my face, caressing the contour of my ear.

I breathe slow and steady, unmoving, praying my thundering pulse doesn’t give me away, and eventually, Finn leaves. When he returns hours later, once the sun has set and the house is quiet and the dinner he brought has long gone cold, I pretend to be asleep then too.

That is until I hear a sigh, the rustle of sheets, the soft thud of a pillow hitting the floorboards. Then, I roll over. Eyes still closed, I reach out blindly, fingers connecting with solid muscle and locking around it.

I tug once, and Finn comes. He crawls into bed with me, settling on top of the covers with a notable gap between us, his palpable hesitation making my chest hurt with a dull,wrongache. I murmur his name, I tug again, I wriggle closer until my face finds warm skin, and only then does he relax. Only then does he shift onto his side too, my lips pressed to the notch of his throat while his chin grazes my crown, one arm slipping beneath my head while the other slings over my hip.

I wait until his breathing slows, until his grip slackens, before slipping out of bed.

In what might be the smartest move of my life, I leave Ruin in the barn. Even I can acknowledge that galloping off into the night on an unpredictable, saddleless steed with a loaded gun slung over my shoulder is a piss-poor idea.

Gaia is the much more sensible choice. Strong and steady between my thighs, and fast too, despite her size, and it makes me feel better about the situation I’m voluntarily entering, the fact I’m riding a veritable beast into battle.

Notbattle. I need to stop thinking of it like that. I’m not looking for a fight. The shotgun Lux keeps locked up in the barn in case of predator-related emergencies is a precaution, not a necessity. I don’t want a confrontation.

I want an answer. Because during my endless ruminating, another question arose—where the hell is Ricky staying? Where would he and the others be that they could dip in and out of town, but Deputy Dickhead couldn’t track them down? How did they get onto Serenity, to the A-frame, without anyone noticing?

Confirmation. That’s what I’m looking for. Because I know.

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