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Xave talks in a low voice. “When I saw that car speeding down the road, I warned Aydan about reinforcements. When he copied my message, I realized the earpiece was working all along and that jerk just thought I wasn’t important enough to know what was happening.”
That sounds like Aydan, all right.
“It’s either that or ...” He trails off.
“Or what?”
“Nothing,” he says, sounding like it’s definitely something. “Anyway, I knew I had to stop them. I had to give you time to get out of there.” The way he says “you” makes it clear he definitely means me and not everybody else.
“Trying to be a hero?” I want it sound like a joke, but it comes out like a reproach, which is what it really is. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”
“Um, do I need to point out I’m not the one in a hospital bed?”
I roll my eyes. “So what did you do?”
“I chased them on my bike and shot out their tires.”
My eyebrows jump up, but before I can ask, Xave answers what would have been my next question.
“Clark gave me a gun. Turns out I’m still a good shot.”
Xave used to go hunting in north Washington with Clark and his father when he was little. I used to tease him and call him Yosemite Sam, using Bugs Bunny’s voice. He hated it.
He continues, eyes fixed on our linked hands. “Their car skidded off the road and slammed against a tree. I waited to see if they’d come out. I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t just run into the clinic. Next thing I know, three guys jump out and start toward me. I flipped tail and started driving away, but lost control of the bike. Got some pretty sweet road-rash on my back, but didn’t feel it at the time.” Xave cracks his neck and winces a little. “I feel it now, though.” He gives an unamused chuckle.
“Has anyone looked at it?”
“Nah, everyone’s more banged up than me.”
“Still, you need to have it checked,” I adamantly say.
Xave peers at me sideways. “Since when did you become so protective?”
“Um, I’m not. It’s just ... common sense. You know.”
“A-ha.” He’s not buying it. With a satisfied smile he lets me off the hook and continues his story. “After I skidded along the road like an old piece of trash, I saw those freaks were still walking toward me, all cool and relaxed, as if they were chasing an ancient grandma. I was still clutching my gun, and they just kept coming. Something in their eyes ... spooked me. I’m not embarrassed to say it,” he adds in a hurry. “Those things are unnatural.” He pauses, his hazel eyes dark and lost on a faraway spot beyond this room. “Evil,” he whispers.
I shiver, remembering the glittering eyes of the half-crocodile beast that almost ate me. “Were they walking ... normal?”
My question gives Xave pause. “Normal?” he repeats. “Yes, I guess. If walking all Terminator-like can be called normal. It was like they knew I would freak out, like they expected me to run even though I was armed.
“And I did. I took off into the woods like a mad man, trying to find a place to hide. I could hear them crunching leaves behind me. I docked by a huge hollow tree and clutched the gun to my chest. It could’ve been a stuffed animal or something for all the good it was doing. I couldn’t think straight.” Xave shakes his head, smirking at his idiocy with incredulity.
“One of them laughed. He sounded like a freakin’ hyena. That made me snap out of it. I wasn’t about to just sit there waiting for them to flush me out like a rat. So I did what I thought they expected the least. I came out shooting.”
“What?! Are you insane? You? Against three Eklyptors?”
“Yeah. Me. Against three freaks.” The you-have-a-problem-with-that tone makes me doubt his sanity.
“You idiot,” I say. “No one needs a dead hero.”
“Sorry to point out the obvious, sweetheart, but I’m not dead.”
I never knew Xave could smile with such sexy charm. And he’s calling me sweetheart? In spite of how ridiculous it sounds, I find my face getting hot. What the heck? Am I blushing? I don’t do blushing. He doesn’t seem to notice, so I try getting it under control.
“And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one wrapped up like a stinking mummy,” he adds.
I put my hand on my torso, feeling for the bandages. I vaguely remember Kristen putting them on while I sat in a daze. She said I had a broken rib and would feel better once I was bandaged up. At first, I doubted anything would help, but it has.
“I don’t stink,” I protest, but I can’t help wrinkling my nose a bit as I take in my own scent. Xave laughs. I do too, but stop when my broken rib starts to sing.
“Man, they were fast!” he continues his tale. “I kept missing, but all that experience shooting deer came in handy. I aimed ahead and two ran right into my bullets,” he says, jaw twitching with intense feeling.
“The third one got smart. He almost had me. He jumped up in the air and sprouted freakin’ bat wings. I’m not making it up.”
“I know you’re not.” My own horrifying memories of the night come back to me and I have no trouble imagining what Xave saw. I know the underpinnings of this nightmare.
“Clark’s the reason I’m still here.”
“So yeah, you are an idiot,” I say, holding his gaze. “Just a very lucky one.”
He becomes all serious, props his arm on the pillow, and looks deep into my eyes. With his thumb, he smooths my eyebrow in a soft, shy caress. The room begins to spin, the bed becomes a weird, fluffy cloud. He’s never looked at me this way—Xave with his stormy, hazel eyes and perfect lips. The temperamental boy who seems to have grown into a courageous man overnight and who risked his life to buy me a few precious seconds.
“I was so worried about you,” he whispers, and he’s so close that his warm, cinnamon breath grazes my cheek. “I panicked, started thinking that ... I’d never see you again.”
My throat tightens. I felt the same panic for him and hearing him talk openly about it—forgetting all our differences and clumsy attempts to communicate—cracks me open.
How could I ever pretend it was best to grow apart? Maybe he won’t want me when he finds out what I really am. Maybe he will feel betrayed, revolted. But who was I kidding? I’d risk everything for just this moment.
“I thought I’d never get a chance to tell you ...” His eyes are moist. I’ve never seen him like this. Ever. “To tell you what a pain in the ass you are.” He fights a smile.
I mock-punch him and I open my mouth to reply, but he puts a finger on my lips for a fraction of a second. Heat seals my lips, makes me crave his touch.
“I’ve been dense, to say the least,” he says.
“Yeah, a blockhead.”
He gives me a sad smile. “That day at the arcade, I brought Judy to see how you’d react. I was shooting for Jealous Vixen, but got Cold Queen instead.”
“What a genius plan,” I say sarcastically.
“Hey, I’m just a plain old average guy. Yeah, it was stupid, but I didn’t know what else to do. You’d turned away from me when I tried a different approach.”
“Um, I did?”
“That time we ended up this close, remember?” He measures an invisible inch with his fingers.
“You did that on purpose? I thought that was an accident!”
He shrugs.
“Subtle,” I say.
“Oh, I can be subtle,” he says, then brushes his thumb along my jaw. I shudder.
“Let me finish, okay?” he says.
Who knew Xave could string more than two sentences together? Since he turned thirteen, I thought kicking Dumpsters was the extent of his communication skills. Of course I’m not about to discourage him, now.
“Well, Ms. Cold Queen, what I realized tonight is that I was being a coward.”
“Mmm,” I mumble, nodding in full agreement.
“Yeah, I admit it. But no more. Because even if you run for the hills after I tell you ... well ... I’ll still feel exactly the same way. And I’ll always regret not being braver. Besides, I can’t run from it. Believe me, I’ve tried. It doesn’t work. ’Cause it’s you, Marci. It’s always been you. And I’ve always known it, always been afraid that you would hate me and push me away. But I’m done with hiding from it. I’m crazy about you. Have been for a while.”
He waits for me to say something, searches my face for a reaction. I’m not sure what he sees there, but I doubt it’s helpful. My emotions are out of control, and maybe I expect him to say more. But short of the “L” word, there’s nothing else he can say. Besides, I don’t know if I’d be able to say it back. For that matter, I don’t know if I’ll be able to say anything at all, because that last thing he said ... well ... I’m dumbstruck.
“Um, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, staring at my mouth with more than just interest in the words that might come out of it. “I know it’s hard and you may not ... I mean, this may be too much for you right now.”
I try to say something and only a puff of air comes out. How can I top what he just said when all I can think of is “Ditto, Xave, just kiss me already”?
He stares at the door in concentration, knits thick eyebrows and asks, “Do you want me to go? Let you rest?” He lets go of my hand and stands.
“No!”
Xave smiles, hopeful. “O-kay. I’ll stay.” He sits back down.
After a moment of awkward silence, during which I try to get my thoughts organized, Xave seems ready to try a new approach.
“Are you mad at me?” he asks.
“No, of course not.”
“Okay. Not mad. That’s good, right?”
We exchange smiles.
I push up on the pillow. “I’m just trying to ... find the right words.”
He gives a slow blink, straightens on the chair and widens the distance between us.
Man, I’m really screwing things up. That has got to be the stupidest thing to say at a moment like this. There can be no wrong words when you’re giving your heart away. When you’re about to break one, though ...
“Get closer,” I order him.
He stares at me confused for an instant, then scoots his chair toward the bed.
I take his hand back and his sudden vulnerable expression make me feel all warm inside. I can sense his expectation and doubts. I just hope that what I say next is as perfect as what he told me. No pressure, right? I take a deep breath and begin.
“I’ve been worried about you, too,” I say. “You’re my best friend.”
Xave’s body language tells me he would be sobbing if it wasn’t unmanly. God, I might sob myself. I suck at this. Friend?! I want him to know he’ll always be my friend, even if we become something else. Not going as planned.
“Wait, let me start again.”
He rubs the back of his neck, and I wonder if he’ll survive this conversation. “Look, I understand.” He starts to pull his hand away from mine.
I tighten my grip, lock my gaze to his. “You’re not going anywhere until I tell you how I feel about you. Even if it kills you.”
“Are you sure? ’Cause it might.” He puts a hand on his chest and grins.
God, why is the fact that he’s able to joke about this so ... so ... hot?
“It won’t,” I say. “I promise you.” My voice is low, flowing in a suggestive cadence that seems to come out of nowhere.
Xave’s eyes widened, but he recovers quickly. “Is that so?” he asks, matching my tone.
“I was worried about you, too. Did they tell you I kept calling your name?”
“No.”
“I had to know if you were okay, had to see you. That’s why they came and got you.”
“Aydan didn’t say anything.”
I shrug. Aydan doesn’t matter. Whatever his problem is, he doesn’t matter. Right now there’s only Xave.
“If I acted that way at the arcade it’s because ... it hurt,” I continue. “It hurt like hell to see you with someone else.”
Xave gets up from the chair and sits on the bed. Leaning in closer, he gives me a huge smile. “Jealous then?”
“Very,” I whisper, staring at his mouth, which he’s lowering closer and closer to mine at the pace of my thudding heartbeat.
“Why?”
“Same reason as you.” I know it’s a lame answer, but his mouth has hypnotized me. I can hardly breathe, much less think of a clever way to tell him how much he means to me.
Xave shakes his head. “Oh, no. I won’t let you off the hook that easily. Why?” he asks again.
“Because ... because ...” Damn, this should be easy. All I need to do is tell him the truth. I take a deep breath. Okay, here it goes.
“Because ever since you showed up in my neighborhood splashing through puddles in those fireman rubber boots, I’ve thought about you every single day.
“Because you shared your Peeps with me every Easter, even though they were your favorites.
“Because you held me the day Dad died.
“Because I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”
His eyes seem to waver for an instant.
“Do I need to keep going?” I ask through the burning knot in my throat.
He shakes his head. “I always thought those Peeps might do the trick.”
I sputter, trying to contain the laughter, the relief bubbling in my chest.
“You think I’m kidding?” he asks. “It was part of my master plan.”
I feel so happy, so undeniably ecstatic that I think nothing else matters. Just this moment, just us. Not the world and this messed-up war we’re in. Not Mom. Not Luke. Not anyone else.
He laughs and I try not to. Then we do it together, like we’ve always done everything, like it’s meant to be.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, stopping his laughter abruptly. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”
A chill runs the length of my body and in the next instant I turn hot. My breaths speed up so much that my ribs begin to throb in sync with my heartbeat, but I don’t care. Xave’s mouth is only an inch from mine. His eyes are lighter now, a happy green. I’ve always loved the way they reflect his mood, revealing exactly the way he feels.
He licks his lips. Rumor has it he’s a good kisser. Nerves grip me. I hope he doesn’t find my kisses half bad. I close my eyes and wait to reach the sky.
“Oh, sorry.” An intruding voice slams me back down to earth.
Really?! Could their timing be any worse?
Xave springs to his feet and smooths his shirt. “Hey,” he says, wearing an innocent expression that makes him look seventeen again. And here I was thinking he was all grown up.
This business will not remain unfinished. I have to confirm if the rumors are true.