When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,54
as if I hadn’t breathed once. Hadn’t needed to. River stared, slightly shell-shocked at what he’d done. A small, disbelieving smile touched his lips that were still wet with our kiss. His eyes held mine intently, and there was no regret. Only a quiet exhilaration. Some part of him that had been lost was now restored.
While I was breaking apart.
I shoved out of the protective circle of River’s arms and fell back against a bank of storage lockers with a hollow clang. My pulse pounded. I could feel him all over me—in my mouth and lungs and heart—his kiss a resuscitation.
He pulled me out of the lake and breathed life into me…
Uncertainty flashed over his eyes. “Did I…do something wrong?”
I shook my head mutely, the warmth—his warmth—still flowing through my veins. How could I explain it had never been like that? That it wasn’t supposed to be like that?
No one had ever kissed me like it meant something.
Wordlessly, I fumbled for the door and pushed into the too-bright daylight. The talent show was getting out and I was swept up in a sea of students leaving the auditorium. Too many bodies, too much mindless chatter assaulted my brain. I broke away from the crowd and leaned heavily against a wall, reaching for my flask.
The vodka tasted like gasoline after the perfection of River’s mouth. I took another sip, killing the taste of his kiss from my lips and tongue. But the liquor did nothing to smother the sense memory of how safe I felt with him. As if he’d tried to make good on his promise to never let anyone hurt me again.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered and took a third swig. “It was nothing. A kiss. So fucking what?”
Miller rounded the corner, his guitar slung around his shoulders. He wore jeans, a ratty old jacket and a beanie that made girls lose their shit.
“Oh, hey, Holden. You okay, man?”
“You played like a damn miracle,” I said to deflect his concern. But Miller was annoyingly humble; compliments bounced right off him.
“Thanks. You sure you’re okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? Aside from the fact I’m drunk in the middle of the school day.”
Miller didn’t crack a smile. Serious guy, that one.
“Actually,” I said as we walked across the campus, “my mental state is partially your fault.”
He smirked. “How do you figure?”
“That song. More specifically, you singing that song. It had the same effect as ‘Yellow’ back at the party months ago. You could make a fortune destroying people with nothing but Coldplay covers.”
“I’d be happy just to make enough to kick Chet out.”
“Your mom’s boyfriend still hanging around?”
I hated it when people asked questions they already knew the answers to, but I was desperate to keep River out of my thoughts.
“Yeah,” Miller said. “And it’s like my home isn’t mine anymore. We’d been through so much shit, Mom and I, to have a real place. Now we’ve been invaded. Like he’s taken over and it’s his place and we’re allowed to live in it if he says so.”
“What can I do?”
Miller shrugged, but his eyes were filled with gratitude. “Not much anyone can do.”
“If you need money, you can ask—”
“No,” he said and kept walking toward the front of the school. The school day wasn’t over, but we were done. “We’ve discussed this before.”
“And my offer still stands, in perpetuity. I’m sitting on a goddamn mountain of gold and neither you nor Wentz will touch it.”
“I’m not taking your money,” Miller said, his eyes hard like blue topaz. “Whatever I do, I’ll do it on my own.”
I wanted to argue, but Miller’s stubborn pride was immovable. Like a boulder had been lodged in him since his father abandoned him and his mom four years ago, leaving them to homelessness and desperation.
I sighed dramatically. “Having never known a lack of material wealth a day in my life, I can only guess there’s some kind of nobility in needless suffering.”
Miller snorted a laugh. “It builds character. You should try it sometime.”
I gave him a shove and we settled into a peaceful silence…until the memory of River Whitmore’s hard body pressed to me, his mouth devouring mine, infiltrated me all over again.
Goddammit.
“You walking me home, Parish?” Miller asked as we headed down the tree-lined street.
“It would appear that way.”
“What about James?”
“He’s used to my erratic schedule. He’ll come when I call him.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Welp, we just ditched the rest of our last day of school before winter break.”