Page 114 of Awry
“Stay with me,” I murmur.Then, keeping Presh tucked to my side, I pick up my pace until we’re back at my truck.
DeVille whistles appreciatively at the restored classic F-100 under his breath, as I practically shove Presh and Kris into the cab.He climbs into the bed of the truck, abandoning his car without prompting from me.
I’m climbing into the driver’s seat when three bikers blow by us, then execute a wide U-turn at the next intersection.They pull up in front of the warehouse.
I reach over and press my hand to Presh’s head.She curls down in Kris’s lap without further prompting.DeVille is casually slumped in the truck bed, but he watches the bikers from the corner of his eye as they stomp off around the warehouse toward the back entrance.
“Unaffiliated,” he mutters under his breath, tugging his phone out of his pocket and taking a picture of the motorcycles.That’s safer than trying to snap pictures of the bikers themselves.
I close the door and start the engine, then get us back on the road.
“Can we still go to the Dairy Queen?”Presh peers up at me from Kris’s lap, seemingly not remotely fussed about being shoved there.And with the way Kris is finger-combing her hair, I can see why.
“Yes,” I say.
Presh hums happily.
“I could sit on DeVille’s lap,” Kris says as she glances over her shoulder to get a glimpse of the shifter in the back of the truck.
All three of them have crushes on the wrong people.Yes, I haven’t missed the underlying denial punctuating every sneering word leveled on Presh by DeVille.
It’s so … refreshing.
I would live in this moment with Presh if I could.
That isn’t possible for me, I know.I’ve experienced the life my Aunt Disa led, and she didn’t get this.She didn’t get to be … regular.
That doesn’t stop me from wishing for it, though, and letting their snarky conversation wash over me for the time it takes to drive to the Dairy Queen.
Presh,tucked next to me in the middle seat, rests her head on my shoulder.We’re waiting for our order in the small parking lot adjacent to the Dairy Queen drive-thru lane.On her right, Kris’s attention is trained through the front windshield on DeVille, who’s leaning against the front bumper of the truck and smoking.An actual cigarette, which I honestly wasn’t certain were even manufactured anymore.Maybe he has access to a stash.
“Can I ask you something?”Kris murmurs quietly to Presh.
“Anything,” Presh says, not sounding at all sleepy.There’s a lot of nuance packed into that word, but Kris only reacts to the most surface permission.
“The Outcast and DeVille’s mom.They’re chosen mates, right?”
“Yeah.”Presh straightens, turning toward Kris.“For, like, almost twelve years?”
I keep my gaze on my phone.I’ve been half-heartedly responding to text messages, but not really wanting to dig into any of the deluge of info Coda has filled my inbox with in the last twenty-four hours.In other words, I’m shamelessly eavesdropping.Because apparently, twenty-nine-year-old me suddenly lives for teenage gossip and intrigue.
“They bonded to strengthen the pack.”Kris’s gaze hasn’t wavered from DeVille’s back.“Like, a bitten bond with a ceremony and everything.”Her tone is wistful.
Even I can see where this is going.
DeVille, the object of Kris’s wistfulness, is gazing off across the parking lot into the nearby closed businesses, all shrouded in moonlight.Presumably watching for any potential attacks coming at us from the main road or the neighboring buildings.He hasn’t pulled his phone back out once.At his age, that would usually point to psychopathic leanings— except I suspect he just doesn’t want Presh to think he’s narcing on her.
Plus, true psychopaths have wonky essence.And yes, I use the term ‘wonky’ in a purely scientific manner.
“After they had the twins,” Presh says with a shrug.“Makes sense.”
“But … they believe in mates,” Kris says, with just a hint of it being a question.“Your family, I mean.Like, even essence-bound or soul-bound mates?Zephyr scoffs at all that.”
Presh makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, but when Kris leans into her conspiratorially, her lashes flutter and her breathing hitches.Just for a moment.
Again, Kris doesn’t notice.Or maybe she doesn’t care.
Maybe Presh has something she wants?Maybe being friends with Presh comes with benefits.
