looked up at him, her gaze shuttered. “I have to go.”
He stared. “What?”
But she was already pulling away, breaking his grip, hurrying through the crowd toward the front doors.
“Hey,” the bartender said from behind him. “That’ll be—”
“Hold those for me, would you?” He followed Rae without waiting for an answer.
She was outside, a few paces away from the smokers, her gaze distant and her hands pressed against the brick. Like she needed to feel something against her skin just to remind herself she was still there.
He felt like that sometimes.
He approached her slowly, the way he would a wounded animal. She stiffened when she saw him, but she didn’t turn away. Instead, she took a breath, wrapped her arms around herself, and said, “Sorry. I just needed some air.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” he murmured, coming to stand beside her. They leaned against the wall together, both staring up at the sky, and he waited to see if she’d explain.
She didn’t. “You’re alright, Davis.”
The comment surprised a laugh out of him. “Just alright? Damn.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. Her eyes seemed bigger and darker than usual, slamming into him like a touch—like an exploration. “You don’t hurt people. You help people. I’ve noticed that.”
He didn’t know if he was meant to answer. Her gaze still burned sensation over his skin, but her words floated, directionless, between the two of them, as if she was thinking aloud.
A second later, she went on, her sentences meandering tipsily. “You’re a good friend. A real good friend. I can trust you with some things, can’t I?”
Trust me with whatever’s tearing you up inside. “Yes. You can.” She nodded and remained silent. Apparently, that conversation was over. But he didn’t want it to be, so he thought fast. “One more round, and everyone will be leaving. Nate’s babysitter gets off soon.”
She sighed. “These nights always end too early.”
“Ours doesn’t have to,” he said. “How about we don’t go home?”
She turned to stare at him, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips. “What?”
“When everyone leaves, how about we don’t go home? You, me, and Duke. We can roam the streets terrorising pensioners, or something. It’ll be fun.” And I’ll drag your secrets out of you if it’s the last thing I do.
“Oh. Right. Yeah.” She hesitated for a moment before that sweet, one-sided smile curved her lips. “Two trouble-makers and a dog running around in the dark? Isn’t that how horror films start?”
“Nah. It’s how adventures start.”
“I see.” Her right cheek plumped, as if she were pushing her tongue against the inside. “In that case, let’s do it.”
3
Rae wasn’t drunk, exactly. She was drunk, perfectly. That final round had tipped her from level two of intoxication—Excessive Sensitivity—to level three: Excessive Joy. Her mind was a shimmery blur that made everything warm and brilliant, even though it was actually night-time and the world was black-and-streetlight-orange.
At Ravenswood’s play park, the shapes of swings and climbing frames cast odd shadows across the spongey, child-safe floor. But as Rae approached, Duke trotting happily on her left, Zach strolling along on her right, she didn’t care that the park looked like the scene of a possible haunting. They were having an adventure.
That delightful fact expanded in her chest like a balloon, obliterating the last of her sadness. She said aloud, “I never would’ve done this before.”
Though it was mostly dark, she felt Zach’s gaze on her. He didn’t ask what she meant by before. Instead, he said, “What? Gone to the park at midnight like a reprobate?”
“I didn’t use to do anything like a reprobate.”
“That sounds boring.”
Oh, it had been. “I didn’t have a dog, either.”
There was a pause. Then he said, “What, ever?”
“No.” She stopped walking for a moment to run her fingers through Duke’s lovely fur. He was her lovely boy. She lovely, lovely, loved him.
“You never had a dog? In your life?”
“No.” She started walking again.
“But you love dogs.” They passed under a streetlight, and Zach’s frown was illuminated for a few seconds—just long enough to remind her that he was gorgeous when he was indignant.
“My mother is allergic,” Rae explained. “Well, she’s not, but when she doesn’t like something, she says she’s allergic.”
“Interesting tactic,” he said dryly.
“And then, when I left home, I moved straight in with Kevin.”
“Kevin?”
“My husband.” They’d reached the park. She tried to pull the gate and misjudged its weight, stumbling a little as it swung half-open.
Zach caught her, steadied her, his massive chest against her back and his hands practically burning