Delinquents Turned Fugitives - Ann Denton Page 0,45

like she was underwater but everyone else around her wasn’t. They’d talk and laugh and it was all just blurry and garbled. She was better at describing it than I ever was. So now I just steal her description.”

“Well, you are a thief.” I made a weak attempt at lightening the mood.

“Yeah. True. That … and more.” His voice took on a dark edge.

I pinched his stomach, making him start and squeal. “Don’t go there. Tonight’s my pity party. We can have yours tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. But if you pinch me again …”

I made my forefinger and thumb open and close like lobster pincers. He wrapped his hand around mine, trapping it and then placed my hand gently on his stomach. I sank back into him, just listening to the beat of his heart. It was slow and steady and comforting. And just as I started to soak up his comfort, another memory creeped up. This time, it was Mom racing the cart through the grocery store, me inside, squealing. It was an old memory, and so utterly random. But it sliced right through me and tears filled my eyes.

“Does the pain ever stop?” I asked, a catch in my breath.

“For me? Some days. Grandma said that for her, eventually it got smaller. Not so overwhelming. You just go more slowly through life afterward. You don’t walk lightly anymore. Because you aren’t walking through air like the innocent, you’re wading through life, weighed down by loss. But every now and again, things get to me. A smell. A laugh that’s kind of similar and makes you turn your head. It can be something tiny. And it’ll suck you right back under.”

“That’s awful.”

“Sometimes, reality is awful.”

“I hate your logic.”

“No. You hate reality.”

“That too. Damn. Shut up already. Now I’m feeling mad.”

He chuckled and my cheek vibrated against his chest which felt like a boulder in an earthquake. "You'd better always work out," tipsy-me told him, yanking my hand from his grip and using my index finger to jab at him. "Otherwise, these awesome things will turn into moobs."

This time his laugh shook my entire head until I had to pull away or risk feeling sick. As soon as I started to clutch my stomach, grief found that chink in my drunken buzz and started to wriggle its way back inside. I had to stop it. "More distractions. Give 'em to me."

Andros cleared his throat. "I don't know what to say."

"Tell me ... a secret," I demanded.

"Oh, damn. Right for the throat." His eyes gleamed as he turned to study me. "Fine, I'll tell you one but you tell me one in return."

"Deal," I held out a hand to shake. When we did, his huge hand completely encased mine. His palms were rough, fingers calloused; the texture scraped against my skin and made the nerve endings in my palms come alive. I stared at our hands.

"I tracked down my dad when I was sixteen. Found him in a restaurant. He had on some suit, some woman out to dinner with him--looked all middle class and shit."

"What happened?" I asked, wondering how the hell I'd feel to find the father who'd left me. Furious? Hurt? Distraught?

"I punched him in the mouth and walked the fuck out."

My eyes widened and I turned sideways on the bed so I could better study Andros' face in the moonlight. "Did you tell him who you were?"

"Nope."

I started to laugh. "I love it. That's so badass."

He shook his head. "Nah. It wasn't. My grandma's badass. You're badass."

I froze and stared at him. "Why would you think that?"

"It's easy to do what you want in life. It's way fucking harder to do what's best for someone else."

My shadow power flared up unbidden and filled the room until Andros' face was the only thing I could see clearly.

He stared steadily at me, something raw and profound in his eyes. Something a bit more than pride or admiration. Something akin to tenderness.

My breath caught in my lungs and the silence built to a crescendo. My eyes drifted to Andros' lips.

"I'm drunk," I whispered.

"I know," he said. One corner of his mouth quirked up. He pulled on our hands, which were still linked. "Come on. Let me take you downstairs and get some food in you. The guys have something ready too."

I felt like I was floating down the stairs, my hand tucked into his. Everything else in the world felt so far away. Like I was in the clouds and