No Saint (Wild Men 6)

When we break apart, gasping for air, her hands are in my hair, and her eyes are way too bright.

“Sorry,” she whispers, cheeks cherry red, mouth trembling. “I don’t—”

“I’m not sorry,” I whisper back, hauling her against me. “Not for this.”

She shoots me a faint, watery smile. “Come on, let’s go home.”

And I still don’t know where the hell that is.

***

In a daze, using the wall as support, I make it to my feet. My knees creak, my leg muscles scream as I straighten—and yet the pleasure of that kiss still travels through my body, leaving tingles and shivers behind.

Could be shock, though. Definitely shock is a factor. Shock from the kiss, shock from seeing my life flash before my eyes, from realizing Buddy may have saved my life, that Luna did absolutely fucking save my life and is still holding my hand.

Maybe this last bit is what causes the shock to linger. She didn’t abandon me, and after she got me down, she didn’t say “we’re quits!” and walk away.

I lift my fingers to my mouth. That was some kiss. I’ve kissed girls, you know, loads of girls, but I’ve never been kissed. Not like this. Not just out of lust, with an end goal in mind, but so fucking sweetly.

Like it means more.

I tell myself not to be an idiot as she tugs on my hand to get me moving. We leave the ladder propped against the outer wall of the garage. Hopefully nobody will steal it overnight, and I don’t think either of us has the strength to take it back inside. I, for one, don’t. It strikes me as miraculous that Luna managed to drag it outside in such record time and help me down. Though the time I spent hanging like a Christmas ornament felt like goddamn centuries, it can’t have been more than a minute, tops.

So strange that the night is so quiet. Feels like I should be able to hear drums and voices. It’s just us, the street deserted as we round the building to enter. I stagger after Luna, mind reeling, catching glimpses of things I’d normally not notice—a bird fluttering overhead, a spot of spreading rust on the tin wall in the shape of a starburst, the glint of moonlight on her hair.

The door is wide open—not the huge bay doors, but the side door I’ve been using since Dad was thrown into jail. Luna must’ve hauled the ladder through here. Inside it’s kinda dark, gloomy, the space suddenly huge and empty.

Like the void I dangled over earlier. It had felt as though I’d been hanging over the pit of night, a cliff with the sea crashing below.

Okay, I need to get my shit together, gather my scattered wits. It’s just that she said something... something important as I swung from that pipe, ready to face death, something that made me hesitate to let go.

What was it?

“The people I care about.”

Yeah, that bit. Did she really say it? Did I imagine it?

“Ross?” I blink and find her staring at me.

Fuck, I’m so spaced out. Is it normal not to be able to focus on anything? “Yeah.”

“Is your arm okay?”

I shake it out. “I guess.” Seems to be in working order. Muscles and tendons shifting under the skin, joints functioning right.

Wasn’t so sure about it at first when I landed back on solid ground. My arm had felt as if it weighed a fucking ton, and I couldn’t lift it, could barely move it. Now it seems to be coming back to life. My hand hurts, I realize. There’s a gash across my palm, and another across my fingers. Maybe it’s from when the pipe broke. Blood has run down to my wrist, giving me a dark bracelet of thorns, the color of rust, like the stains on the walls. I’m rusting, like a broken piece of machinery.

“Sit here,” she’s saying, interrupting my examination of the crusted blood on my hand and wrist. “I’ll just make a phone call.”

I find myself dropping heavily on a tool bench, blinking dizzily as she walks away and wanders toward the trapdoor leading to the roof. There’s no ladder there anymore, and it takes me a moment to remember why.

Cotton wool, that’s what my head’s filled with. And starb

ursts.

But she only grabs a small purse from there. Ah, right, she must’ve dropped it when she went up to find me and...

Fuck. I scrub both hands over my face. My mind keeps blanking out. She went up, I fell, she came down, dragged the ladder to me. That’s what happened. It happened. It’s over.