Feuds (28 page)

She looked hard into his eyes, which were wide and earnest. She knew he meant it. He cared about her more than anything else—she could feel it in every word, every touch. She leaned closer to him. She was finally certain of everything she'd been feeling; it had come together upon seeing him, focusing itself in her heart.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.” He drew in a breath, then pulled her to him, kissing her urgently.

“You're cold,” he said, pulling back, breathless.

“You, too. You're the one without a shirt on,” she pointed out, smiling a little.

“I'm okay. But your skin … you're so cold.” He scanned the roof deck, and she followed his gaze to a tiny glass enclosure on the opposite end of the roof. “There,” he said, helping her stand up. “We'll be warmer inside.” They walked over to the enclosure, his arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her.

Once inside, she realized exactly how cold she'd been. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, and although he was shaking, too, her discomfort was more violent. She felt weak and tired, yet charged by his presence. “What is this?” she asked, looking around the tiny cubicle.

“I'm not sure. A lookout point?” The room was bare aside from a set of high-definition, magnifying goggles. “Yeah, it's gotta be a lookout of some sort. Here, come here.” He sat cross-legged against the glass, pulling her onto his lap. She leaned her back against him, and he nestled his chin in the crook of her neck. “I don't deserve you,” he breathed into her skin. She felt goose bumps rise along her neck and shoulders and spine in response.

“That isn't true,” she heard herself insist. “It's the other way around. I could be dying. If you were smart, you'd leave me. You'd run away before you're found.” She pulled away from him a little, but he wrestled her back into him. Their body heat was slowly warming her, and she found herself wriggling closer into his embrace. “I won't let you stay here and die for me,” she whispered.

“You don't even know.” He laughed. “I don't have a choice. I love you.” He paused, and she let the words wash over her in a warm rush. “I'd die without you. Don't you get it?” She turned a little so her torso was angled sideways against his, and he cradled her head to his chest. “No matter what, I'll be with you. I'm not going to leave you again. I'd die sooner than let anything happen to you. No matter how bad things get. I'm immune to Narxis, Davis. Without you, there's nothing. I'll find you a cure. I'll protect you. Leaving you isn't an option.”

She twisted toward him and looked up, and his lips were there, on hers, and his tongue was searching her mouth, and everything around them was electrified.

“We can't be together always,” she told him, finally pulling apart. She struggled to find the words; her breath was uneven, and all she wanted to do was bury herself inside him. But she had to say this one thing. “You
need
to go in the morning, Cole. Stay for now, but then you have to go. It's the only way for us to have a chance. If they catch you with me in the morning…” Her words trailed off, but they both knew the implications.

“But if I go, this might be it. Our last night together.” He didn't say “forever,” but the word hung between them, unspoken.

“If you don't go, it
will
be our last night together. If you go—and try to save yourself—we have a chance.” Davis felt tears flowing down her cheeks and neck, and he bent to kiss them away, starting at her collarbone until she was gasping for breath. He pulled her face to his, ever so gently, but his mouth found hers with an intensity she'd never felt. She moved backward until she was lying on the cold cement rooftop, and she brought his body with her. He pulled back for a brief second, his eyes searching. But she'd never wanted anything more. She didn't have to answer him; he saw it, and then he was on top of her, strong but as gentle as she'd ever been touched. It was more and bigger than anything she'd ever felt. Every brush of his lips on her skin made her feel whole and alive, more so than anything ever had—even dancing, even leaping across the stage in the most exhilarating of highs.

He was hers, and every touch conveyed it. He ran his finger down her neck, onto her collarbone, her breastbone, her stomach. She pulled him to her, pressing her body against his, fully aware of how warm his skin felt. She kissed his stomach and chest, tasting the salt from his fight. He cradled her to him, kissing her lips and cheeks and forehead and finally just holding her there in the night until they were charged, both so charged, but unbearably exhausted.

She didn't want to fall asleep. She wanted to hit pause on this night forever, just live in these moments. But finally she felt herself fading into the comfort of his embrace. “I love you,” she whispered … or at least she thought she had said it, but it was hard now to distinguish reality from a dream. He kissed her shoulder and pulled her tighter, and she let herself relax into him, allowing the whole world to fade away.

 

18

COLE

When he woke, Davis was stirring and the darkness of the night was just beginning to fade. At first it seemed like a miracle, waking with her small, beautiful body in his arms. Her face was pressed against his arm, and he never wanted to move it. But the fluttering of her eyelashes as she blinked away sleep tickled, and when he moved just a little, she opened her pretty green eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, just as she whispered, “You have to leave.”

He laughed ruefully. “Not exactly the kind of good morning I hoped to hear.” She smiled up at him and kissed him once, then twice on the lips, but he could tell she was serious, and he knew she was right. “I'll leave,” he told her. “But only because it's the best way for me to make sure we have more nights like this one.” She nodded, burying her head against his chest. He felt her silky brown waves against his skin and tried to memorize the sensation so he could play it on repeat after he'd gone.

“God,” he groaned, pulling her toward him. “Life was much easier without you, Ms. Morrow. Much easier and much less amazing.” She shoved him lightly with one hand and pried herself from his arms, which was a good thing, because he didn't trust himself to let her go.

“Get out of here,” she ordered, her voice firm. Still, she couldn't meet his gaze. “The sooner you leave, the sooner we'll be together again.”

“Promise me,” he pleaded, “that you'll take care of yourself. We'll find you a cure. But promise you'll stay in the hospital and let them take care of you until I can come back for you.” He grasped her hand, squeezing it tighter as he spoke.

She nodded, pulling her gaze to his. “I promise,” she said. The sun's first rays began to filter over the rooftop, and they both saw it at the same time. “Go,” she told him. “You need to go right now.”

“I'll look for you, forever,” he told her. “I love you.” He bent over her for one last, lingering kiss. And then he was gone.

*   *   *

Cole went home first. He had to disappear entirely, but if he left any kind of note, he'd be putting his family in danger, too. He had to say his good-byes quickly, and in person. As soon as he stepped inside his mother's bedroom and saw her sleeping figure, he knew he'd made the right choice in taking the risk. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, careful not to wake her. He wanted to say good-bye, and that he was sorry for putting her through all the worry and stress she must be feeling. He wanted to explain to her that everything was about to get better, with just a little time … if she could only give him some time, he'd fix it all. But waking her—and fielding her questions—would be a mistake. Instead, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze and walked as soundlessly as possible from the room.

Outside the house, the air was blustery. Cole's only thought was how to disappear, and where. He stood for a second in front of the house, trying to sort out his thoughts. It was still early enough that not many people were out and about, so he was startled when he heard a loud “Hey,” and swiveled quickly, instantly on his guard.

Michelle stood before him, tearful and disheveled, her thick hair tangled and crazy looking. She'd obviously been hoping to catch him—she lived a five-minute walk away, but she must have been staking out the place, hoping he'd show up. “Hi,” he said, his tone guarded. He looked left and right, trying to judge whether this was another trap—whether Michelle was out for the ultimate revenge, locking him away for good.

“Cole, I—” She moved toward him and winced when he took a step back, away from her.

“What do you want, Michelle?”

She lifted a fist to her mouth, her red-rimmed eyes tearing up for what clearly wasn't the first time. She had dark circles under the red. “So you know,” she said.

Cole nodded, feeling his jaw tense up.

“I'm so sorry,” she choked out. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought … I thought if I told them, I'd save you from Noah. I thought if you were in jail, at least you'd be alive.”

“That's fucked-up logic, Michelle,” Cole said, but he was already losing some of the anger that had fueled him a moment ago. She looked a mess. And she looked sincere. Somewhere inside, she probably really
had
been trying to look out for him.

“I know,” she said, struggling to speak through her tears. “And I'm so sorry. You have no idea. You have to believe me, Cole. I thought you were going to die. Please believe me—I don't care what happened between us. I just care about you. I heard a rumor. Noah was talking to some of the guys…” She trailed off, but Cole perked up.

“Yeah? About the knife?”

She bit her lip, nodding. “He said he wanted to kill you. That he
would
kill you. Please believe I never thought it would wind up like this. I thought you'd be safe in jail … and now Noah's dead. It's all my fault.” Michelle broke down, sobbing. She stood there, her hands covering her face, and she looked so sad, so hopeless. Cole felt his guard crack. She'd caused so much trouble, but she'd been confused—trying to help in her own misguided way. He couldn't help going to her.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. “It's not your fault. You were trying to do the right thing.” Even as he said it, he knew part of her motives probably had stemmed from something misguided. Anger, or revenge. But she looked so miserable and sorry that he couldn't find it in himself to be angry. “It's not your fault,” he told her. “I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to get involved in any of this. You were never supposed to get hurt.” His words sounded wooden. The problem was, no one was supposed to get hurt. But it was starting to feel like he could no longer control the fallout. He wondered how many more people would be casualties of what he'd started.

Michelle pulled back, wiping her eyes roughly. “Where are you going to go?” she asked.

Cole shrugged. “I'll figure it out.”

“You don't have a plan? Cole, what…?” She trailed off, biting her lip. Her expression mirrored his desperation. He had no plan, and winging it hadn't gotten him anywhere good so far. He felt backed into a corner, trapped, and time was running out. A cold sense of terror washed over him as he realized exactly how bad this was. He
had
to go somewhere safe while he contemplated what to do about Davis. He had so few choices and no time at all. Nowhere in the Slants was completely safe, he realized. Nowhere in Columbus was safe. He racked his brain for solutions and came up short.

“They won't stop looking until they've tracked you down,” Michelle said softly.
Tracked.
The word settled under his skin, triggering some visceral reaction. He was being hunted.

“They won't stop until I'm dead,” he realized. Michelle met his eyes; she didn't say anything, but he could see from her somber expression that he was right.

“I'm afraid for you,” she told him.

“Wait a second,” he said. “They really won't quit until they know I'm dead,” he said, thinking aloud. He felt himself getting excited; it was the key to everything. If he couldn't win by fighting against them, he'd have to work
with
them. “Don't you see?” he asked Michelle. She looked blank. “I have to give them what they want. I have to die.”

Michelle's jaw dropped and she shook her head, hard. “Cole, what are you saying?”

“No, no. I don't really have to die. I just have to make it look like I did. If I stage it convincingly enough,” he said, “they'll call off the hunt. I can be free to disappear.”

She nodded, but she still looked doubtful. “How are you going to pull that off?” she asked.

“I'll need your help,” he responded.

“No.” Michelle took a step back, looking over her shoulder. “I took a huge risk just meeting you here. I just wanted to apologize. I don't want to get involved in any of this. If they think I'm helping you … I could be dead, too.”

“Michelle,” Cole said. “Please, Michelle. If we do this right, it's the safest possible way. It might be the only way out of this mess.”

“It's the only way you can see her again,” she responded, her voice getting hard. A flash of pain crossed her eyes, but Cole nodded. It was time for him to be as honest as possible with Michelle. “You care about her a lot,” she continued.

“I do.”

“Then I'll help.” Her chin trembled slightly, but she didn't cry. He was reminded of a time when they were both kids, when Michelle had fallen from the top of the slide that used to exist at the Swings, back when it was still a playground. She'd been so brave, while Cole had been the one to panic.

Cole pulled her into another hug. He'd known Michelle nearly all his life. Her willingness to help despite everything that had happened between them—despite the feelings she carried, which had long gone unanswered—touched him in a way he couldn't articulate.