Page 67 of Finding Denver
Once we’ve left the room and Holly’s door is closed, I pull Denver into a hug. She freezes for a moment, but I don’t care about the barriers, or what we should or shouldn’t do. I’m so relieved she knew what to say, how to navigate this mess, because I was lost. Denver wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me back, and I hold onto her for probably too long, but I don’t want to let go.
In the quiet of my family home, a Harland hugs a Luxe, but our names are forgotten. We’re just Colt and Denver, and I need that.
“Thank you,” I say.
She exhales deeply and holds me tighter. “Anytime.”
When I finally release her, we remain in place. “How did you know what to say?”
“Someone shot at my ninth birthday party,” she says. “No one was hurt, and honestly, most of it is just darkness when I try to remember. But my mom and dad sat with me that night, and my mom told me to name things I loved. She called it busyness too. I guess calling it what it really was wouldn’t have been smart.” She forces a smile and takes a breath. “She’ll be okay.”
I shake my head. “I should have canceled.”
“It doesn’t help,” she says quietly, and I meet her eye. “My tenth birthday was fine. Eleventh, too. My twelfth, my dad disappeared for three days and came back with bruises. Someone had taken him and three other men from a supermarket at gunpoint while he was buying me a birthday cake. There’s no telling when this world will hit us or who it will hit. But stopping her from living doesn’t stop it from happening.”
The lamp on the side table warms one side of Denver’sface in a soft, orange glow, and she cups my cheek. “You’re doing the best you can.”
“I could do better.”
“Shoulda woulda coulda.” She smiles. “Expect the best, prepare for the worst. And numb it with the free candy we have downstairs.”
Somehow, I laugh. The tension isn’t gone, but it’s eased, by Denver Luxe of all people.
She takes my hand and leads me downstairs. Charlie, Lewis, and Taf are sitting at the dining table. Charlie has a dozen empty candy wrappers in front of him.
Denver releases my hand and stands by Lewis’s chair, resting her arm over his shoulder.
I rub my face. “Who?”
“Spider,” Taf says.
A name I should have expected. It was only a matter of time before he showed up or sent men to exact revenge for the son he probably now knows is dead. The question is—was he here for Denver or me?
“Anyone alive?” I ask.
Charlie nods. “One guy. Alistair took him to one of the bars.”
“Then we hurt him,” Denver says, leaning her hip against Lewis’s chair. “And we find out where Spider is.”
I watch her. “You’re coming?”
“He either tried to kill me or almost killed her.” She points at the ceiling, where Holly sleeps above us. “I’m hurting someone.”
Chapter 18
Denver
An hour later, we pull up in a dark, rain-soaked street, heavy gray clouds blanketing the sky. The buildings are packed together, most looking shut up or abandoned, except for one with a neon blue sign fixed behind a small, dirty window. Two men flank a wooden door, eyeing us as we get out of the car.
I rub my arms against a breeze but go still when Colt drapes his scarf around my neck. “You’re under my protection here. No one will touch you.”
I watch him as he focuses on tying the knitted scarf, adjusting my hair so it isn’t trapped beneath. “But?”
He meets my eye. “You’re a Luxe. They won’t hurt you, but they also have no reason to respect you.” He touches my chin, lifting it. “Head up. Eyes up. Remember who the fuck you are.”
My swallow is deep, hopefully hidden by the scarf, and I keep an edge of tease in my voice—confidence where there is none. “And then they’ll respect me? That soundstoo easy.”
Colt smiles. “Respect isn’t always earned through blood. Confidence goes a long way.”
