Page 48 of No Hope of Rescue

I’m so confused. Women confuse me. “What do you mean act?”

Her sigh is labored, and she glances toward the window, avoiding my stare. “I don’t know how to act like what happened last night maybe didn’t matter.”

I stare at her. “It matters a lot. Wait.” I hold up my hand. “You think this is one off? That this was just for fun?”

Her face twists. “No, no. See, this is what I mean. I’ve already screwed it up. I’m just afraid that I’ll—”

I sit all the way up, take a hold of both of her shoulders, and kiss her. Hard, as if to show her I mean business, and not the partnership kind. Jesus. Who does she think I am?

The pressure grows softer, and I talk around the kiss. “I swear to God you think too much.”

She pulls away, and now a small smile begins. “I’m so glad this changes everything.”

She has no idea.

΅

We decide on pancakes, bacon, and a pint of milk. For the first time in a long time, I’m starving. Mom called this morning just as we were getting the batter started and said all Codie’s tests came back with strong numbers, and she had evened out with her medication. Jace and Ryan will show up at ten to retrieve them and bring them home.

The bacon’s starting to sizzle when there’s a tap at the door. It’s Ross. Riley puts him to work on making coffee, something he assures both of us he knows how to do.

Now I know why he doesn’t cook. His family probably paid people to cook for them. Servants and shit. For a fleeting moment, empathy spills over, and I get why he joined the Air Force.

Ross hands Riley a cup of coffee, and she opens the fridge and pours a little half-and-half.

Tapping his head, he says, “Noted for next time.” Glancing at both of us, he sets his mug. “Hey. Are you two . . . ?”

“What?” we both say.

“You know. Together?”

Before either of us can answer, my phone rings. I mouth, “Mom” and step into the living room.

Chapter Fourteen

Riley Delgado

Ross laughs and raises an eyebrow. “Silence is speaking a lot louder than words here, Riley.”

I nearly drop the platter of bacon. I just don’t know how to answer the question.

Then, thank God, Brock reenters. Slipping his phone into his back pocket, he announces, “Update. Codie’s coming home earlier. They’ll be here any minute.”

Brock and I throw pancakes and bacon into the oven to keep warm, then he and Ross walk over to Kelly’s to clean up the place. Ross said he’d crashed on the sofa—not the most comfortable, I have to admit, but there were still sheets involved and a blanket and a few dishes in the sink.

I finger the small oval of the burner phone in my pocket. The thing Codie swore me to keep and not ask questions about. This is hers to talk about, not mine. I’ll be glad when she’s back and I can hand it over.

In five minutes, there’s a crunch of tires in the driveway. From the window, I watch as Brock gently lifts his sister from the car. There’s some kind of conversation, which he wins, and he carries her inside. Ross holds the door open, and once they’re all inside, he returns to Brock’s.

“How does she seem?”

“Tired, but happy to be home. She did not want to be carried. Brock really put his foot down.”

I laugh. “I could tell.”

Brock arrives next, looking worried. “She wants you to come over.”

“Now?”