Page 62 of Wherever You Are
“No,” all the guys say in unison. Because apparently she’s a reckless driver, and I’m not even sure if she has her license beyond a motorcycle one.
“It might be a clogged fuel filter…fuck.” Ryke winces, his finger caught in something, but he shakes it out.
Daisy’s face contorts, a little concerned for him. He’s a rock climber, after all—his hands are precious. “Maybe we should take the car into the shop tomorrow,” she says. “We can let Willow spend the night. That’s probably what Lo wants, too.”
“No, it’s okay,” I interject. “I can call an Uber or something.” I think everyone needs space from me for a while.
“That seems unwise,” Connor tells me while shining the flashlight for Ryke. “It’s late and people know who you are.”
“Famous people take Ubers all the time in Los Angeles…I think. And I mean, I’m notfamous like all of you. You know…?” I want to stop talking now. Thanks.
“We’re not in LA. We’re in Philadelphia,” Connor says in a way that makes me feel dumb for making the comparison.
“Fuck off, Cobalt,” Ryke says from beneath the car hood.
Daisy suddenly swings her head to the left, and I follow her gaze. Warm lamplight illuminates the neighborhood street, but darkness lies beyond.
She solidifies, eerily motionless. “Did you hear that?” she asks me.
I listen closely, but besides Ryke toying with the car’s mechanisms, I can’t hear much else. “Not really…”
Daisy breathes shallowly, her knuckles whitening on her mug of hot chocolate. “Something’s out there,” she says under her breath.
My own fear spikes, partly afraid of what she sees and partly afraid forher—I’ve never seen someone look so haunted before.
Connor watches her closely, and Ryke turns his head to Daisy. His brows furrow, intensely concerned.
“Do you hear that?” she asks again. “Something’s…not right.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Ryke says in a gentle tone, “you’re fucking safe. Nothing’s out there.”
Daisy flinches, so abruptly—like someone threw something at her—and she drops the hot chocolate to shield her face. The mug shatters on cement, and no object flies her way. She’s about to crouch, but Ryke immediately reaches her side.
“You’re okay. I’m here.” He wraps his arms around Daisy. “I’m fucking here, Dais.” He hugs her tight, clutching her protectively to his chest, and his features simultaneously darken and harden.
I don’t know what to do or say. I waver uneasily and just stay quiet. Daisy is immobilized by fear, and so Ryke effortlessly lifts her in his arms. Cradling her body, he carries her towards the house.
As he passes Lo, my half-brother asks him, “What the hell happened?”
Ryke doesn’t answer. I think it might’ve been a rhetorical question. Lo knows everything that has happened to Daisy and why the dark would scare her. All I know is that Garrison and his friends didn’t help with her fear.
Not when they shot paintballs at the windows, among other things.
Connor clicks off his flashlight and lowers the hood of the car. I wait to figure out what to do next while he towers above with supreme confidence.
In his presence, I feel small. I feel awkward.
I doubt he’s ever felt either.
I push up my glasses and adjust my backpack straps. “I’ll call an Uber.”
“You’d choose the unwise option just to avoid us,” he states aloud like it means little when it actually carries too much weight.
“I’m not…avoiding,” I say, unable to evenlookat him.
Lo quickly finishes typing his email, about twenty feet away.
“To avoid: to keep away from or stop oneself from doing something,” he defines. “You’re stopping yourself from spending the night here, which is, in fact,avoidance.”
