Page 79 of Hollow

“Yeah.” I reach out, hesitant, my hand hovering near his before finally covering it. “And maybe this time, we don’t try to kill each other when shit gets hard.”

He looks down at our hands, his fingers slowly turning to intertwine with mine. “No promises.”

“Fair enough.” I smile slightly. “But we try.”

He nods, and for a moment, we’re simply twopeople holding hands, all the history between us still there but somehow lighter.

“So,” he says after a while, “this date.”

“Any ideas?”

“Not the kind she’s looking for.” His mouth quirks up at one corner.

“Flint.”

“What? I’m serious. My date ideas usually involve motorcycles, booze, and bad decisions.”

“Basically your entire lifestyle.”

“Fuck you.” But there’s no heat in it. He’s almost smiling now.

“Maybe the old cemetery,” I suggest. “It’s normal enough but still us.”

“A graveyard? That’s your idea of a normal date?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Jesus, we really are fucked up.”

I draw a deep breath, feeling lighter now, as if I came and got the answer I was hoping for.

“Okay… So we’re really doing this? All of us together?” he asks, as if reading my mind, which frankly, the man has an uncanny way of doing.

“Looks like it.”

“Without killing each other?”

“We’ll try.” I shrug. “One day at a time, right?”

“One fucked-up day at a time,” he agrees.

I glance at the clock. “I should go. Got deliveries to make for the Heathens party.”

Flint tenses slightly at the mention of the party. “Viktor will be there.”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

“He’s still looking, Damiano. Still asking questions.”

“Let him.” I stand up, grabbing my jacket from where I tossed it on the couch. “He won’t find anything.”

Chapter 26

Briar

The old cemetery isn’t exactly what I expected when I suggested the three of us go on a date. Like a normal couple... or whatever the fuck we are.

Warm light and tourists with selfie sticks make it less the haunted island of forgotten souls and more a quaint village of the dead. Not that it matters. The three of us somehow keep our distance from the crowds, finding narrow paths and tangled trees until it truly feels like we’re alone.

I guess we are, in a way.

“He’s smiling,” I say, watching Flint up ahead, boots crunching against gravel.

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