Page 56 of Hunt Me

It’s easy to tell that Archie’s looking for a way to distract himself, and frankly, I am too. I attempt to swallow again and fight off a coughing fit, which will probably be agony. ‘Tea?’ I suggest. ‘With something soft. Still hurts.’

Archie looks angry all over again, but he holds out his hands to help me to my feet. I can walk steadily now, and I no longer feel like I’m on a rocking boat as I move forward, but my entire body is still aching.

This is the worst time in the fucking world to get injured like this. I know how concussion protocol works because I’ve fallen off the stage before in six-inch heels and cracked my temple on a bar-top table.

It means no screens for a while, which means bribing Robbie or Fayid to help me with the students’ final exam videos. And I know they will, but that also means they’ll want to know what happened, in detail. I’m not prepared to tell them anything yet, especially considering I only have vague theories.

But I don’t want them involved. Not until I know for sure that no one else will be hurt. I know that Archie and his brothers can take care of themselves. I have a feeling that’s kind of whatthey do with their lives. But everyone else here? We’re a small town.

The most scandalous thing that’s happened in years was finding old bones on Leaf’s property, courtesy of a dead serial killer. Something like this—an active person who has no problem strangling me on campus? There’s no telling what else they’re capable of.

All of this is a problem for future Denver though. For now, I let Archie move me to his kitchen table and sit me near the window before he walks to the counter to prep something. I have no idea what he’s making, but I don’t care. Being taken care of like this is nice, and the peace and quiet is wholly unexpected.

The kitchen is empty and very still, apart from Archie, who moves in a way that kind of reminds me of a dance. He sways from side to side, his fingers tapping in random patterns, which I know is stimming, but he has a grace to him I rarely see in other people. Even the Deaf queens that I perform with rarely have as much grace as he does.

Archie turns and sees me staring and drops his hands down to his sides.

‘Please don’t,’ I beg.

He blinks at me, tilting his head to the side.

‘Don’t be self-conscious. I like watching you move.’

‘Why?’ His face doesn’t give away the tone of his sign. It’s something I’ve seen in other Autistic Deaf. Sometimes what they feel doesn’t show in the rest of their body.

‘Because you’re beautiful.’

He blinks at me for several seconds, then walks around the counter and tilts my head up. My neck aches, the inside of my throat burning like it’s on fire, but I don’t care when he leans in and kisses me, deep and tender, making my toes curl.

He steps back when he’s done, like he didn’t just make my entire world tilt on its axis with the slide of his tongue against mine, and gets back to work. This time, as I watch, he doesn’t hold his movements back.

He sways as he stirs something in a pot on the stove, the fingers on one hand dancing over the counter. His head rocks from side to side every so often, and he takes a minute with his eyes closed before grabbing a bowl and pouring in whatever he was making.

‘Breakfast,’ he finally signs when he’s done.

It’s a bowl of…something. Not oatmeal, but the same consistency. He sets it in front of me, along with a mug of what smells like chamomile tea.

When I don’t reach for it, he makes ago ongesture. ‘It will help. Trust.’

I pick up the spoon and take a bite. It’s the perfect temperature, barely sweet, and very rich. I sip the tea, and though it burns a bit going down, the aftereffects are nice.

‘Thank you.’

‘Feel better?’ he asks.

I nod and take another drink before letting out a small sigh. ‘Can you drive me to work?’

He stares at me, the look on his face unrestrained incredulity. ‘No.’

Well, fuck. I can take an Uber, but I don’t want to waste the money. Maybe I can text Rene if I can get my eyes to cooperate on my phone for a few minutes.

Or I can walk.

I can probably walk.

He knocks on the table, and I look up at the vibration. ‘Work none. Forbid.’

I almost laugh. I probably would have if my throat weren’t swollen on the inside. ‘I have to work.’