Page 8 of Stone’s Cage

I jut my chin forward to send them off, but I am not feeling at all the tough girl I am pretending to be. When they turn to go, relief floods over me and I stand there, beginning to shake, trying so hard not to cry, holding my breath so hard, it's like I don't know how to breathe anymore.

Closing my eyes for a moment, trying to calm myself, I see Stone, his kind face, his lips, firm and tender, and I can almost smell him.

That's when the tears start. Looking around, I don’t know where to go. I don’t really have a place to stay right now. I've been sleeping at the library during the day and showering at the Y. I look around, trying to remember the cross street that connects with the alley Stone's gym is on. Wiping my face with an arm, I shiver, desperate to return to Hobie's and realize tonight I am going to follow Stone home.

Chapter Six

Stone

This time, it's two in the morning when I leave. Been working out for hours and Coach is long gone. I'm not supposed to do this every day, pound my body without rest. But it's what I do to keep my mind off my life. I can't believe Shreves showed up here with that asshole, Juice. The visit meant two more hours here working it off.

I know it's because of the fight in two nights with Fly—the one I'm feeling pressure to lose, to throw. I've learned to maintain by maintaining. I open the door and step from my place of refuge into the back alley and turn the key to lock up. Everyone's left. Coach gave me a key when I was fifteen and I've used it nearly every day. That key has saved my life. Coach saved my life.

Right now, though, it’s stuck and I'm wrestling with it, so I give the door a pull with my other hand and the bolt slides into place.

"Hi."

Spinning around, I'm immediately on alert.

But it's that girl. This time, she's not damp. It's dry tonight. The breeze is blowing again and somewhere above the light pollution, stars shine.

"Hey," I say, shoving the key into my pocket.

"Where's Tig?"

"He's fine. Loves chicken skin." I try not to look at her. Every time I see her face, my heart flips in my chest. She's so fucking beautiful. She looks so young, but she's got so much grace.

"Your offer still open?"

Something in my groin shifts and the flutter in my stomach drops to a pulsing thrum in my dick. Jesus. No one has had this effect on me.

Ever.

"Yeah," I say. "Everything still holds. Let's go." My hands are suddenly sweating.

"One thing I want you to do," she says, and then adds an, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry?

"I want you to yell or cough or something every time you turn around the corner, so I know how close you are."

I stare at her.

She shrugs. "Blind corners can be dangerous."

What the fuck. I am not going to hurt her. I am not going to lay a hand on her, even if it kills me.

"All right," I say, just glad she's agreed to come home with me.

I start out into the night trying hard not to look over my shoulder. I'm kind of afraid I'll spook her if I turn around. I make my left and keep walking. And then I realize that my heart is thudding hard because I so want her to be behind me. But I don't think she is. She's taken off—again.

Then I hear a little footstep, a little bit of grit, and my chest opens. There's relief I can feel, and it warms me up. She's decided to follow me back. I turned, walk a beat and call "Here!" once to assure her I'm a few yards from the blind corner. I walk about a quarter of a block, glance behind me and she turns that corner, still tracking me. I go a block, and make one more left, and now we're two doors from the corner. I'm standing on the stoop.

She comes flying around the corner, almost at a jog, and she's searching the sidewalk for me.

"Hey," I say softly, and she follows my voice to where I'm standing on the stoop, three steps up.

"Yeah," she says, sighing, relieved. "What?"