Page 67 of Hunt Me

Quirking a brow, Thorne nods. He looks curious, and he probably wants to know why, but he also knows better than toask. When he doesn’t push it, Archie takes the phone and puts his number in without any kind of hesitation.

A strange, white-hot pulse of jealousy courses up my spine. I don’t have Archie’s number. And while I know for a fact that Thorne isn’t flirting with him, it bothers me that he has something I don’t.

God, my emotions are all over the place.

‘I want to go now,’ I sign.

Leaf doesn’t look surprised by my blunt declaration, and neither does Archie. Thorne looks worried, but he takes his phone back and nods.

‘Please take care of yourself, and text us if you need anything.’

When I get up from the table, Leaf tugs me into a hug, which is nice, but those aren’t the arms I want to feel, so I don’t allow it to last long. ‘Feel better,’ he signs with small, soft movements.

I nod and try for a smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. ‘Thanks.’

Archie seems to sense my shift in mood because it doesn’t take him long before he’s pulling me away from Leaf and doesn’t let me say a real goodbye to Thorne. Instead, he shuffles me out the door and down the driveway, his arm around my waist, taking some of my weight as we head back down the path to his place.

The pain and fatigue have turned into one big foggy haze, and by the time we make it through his front door, I’ve lost track of how long it took us to get here. Archie stops me in the entryway and tips my chin up to look at him.

‘You need sleep.’

He’s not wrong. The myth of people with concussions not being allowed to sleep is just that: a myth. I’m dead on my feet, and I want to curl up, close my eyes, and sink into the dark silence.

‘You stay in my room,’ Archie signs stiffly.

I can tell it’s not up for discussion, and frankly, I don’t want it to be. He links his fingers with mine and tugs me down the hall and then down the stairs until we’re back in that cozy, warm space that smells like him.

He stops me in front of the coffin and looks down at it for a moment. ‘In here?’

My heart jumps in my chest. Ihavebeen curious, but I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. I shake my head and wait for him to look disappointed in me, but he doesn’t. He leans in and runs a kiss along my jaw before pulling me to the bed.

As we get settled beneath the sheets, his careful, tender hands tug at my clothes until I’m stripped down to my panties. Brushing a touch over them, he strokes the silk over and over as his eyelids start to droop.

He stops and tucks the blankets around us, but just when I think he’s going to get up and leave, he curls around my back and begins to brush fingers through my hair. It’s something I didn’t expect.

The feeling of his weight gives me an almost vicious thought. If I hadn’t met Archie and somehow survived the attack last night, I would have been on the couch at a friend’s house, cared for but entirely alone.

My throat feels hot, and my eyes are watery, and it only takes a mortifying second to realize that I’m crying.

Archie stiffens and tilts me backward so I can see him ask, ‘Crying why?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Feelings too big.’

He nods. ‘Understand. Want to scream?’

I almost laugh and touch the side of my throat, where the bruising hurts the worst. ‘Can’t.’

Archie’s eyes flare, and he dips his head a little lower, his signs smaller, sharper. ‘Don’t worry. When I’m finished, bad man will never be able to scream again.’

I want that to scare me. I want to know I haven’t lost all sense of moral principle. But in this moment, his threats are like a love sonnet. No one has ever cared enough to die for me, let alone kill for me.

And I realize right then, I never want to leave this man.

17

ARCHIE

I don’t getup until Denver’s fast asleep, and even then, I make sure to be very noisy with my body to see if the motion will wake him up.