Текст книги "All It Takes"

Автор книги: Sadie Munroe

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Chapter 6

Star

We’ve been working on the backyard for days now, almost a full week, really, and it looks like we’re finally making some progress. I can actually see grass again. Well, not grass. The grass is pretty much toast, having been covered with crumbling plastic crates and tarps and a million other little things for God knows how long. But we’ve got the yard nearly down to the actual yard, so that’s something.

Except I’m starting to think I’m going to have to rework my plan. I was not expecting it to take nearly as long as it has to clean this place up, even with Ash’s help. And considering the fact that the Dumpster I rented is almost full and we haven’t even started on the inside of the house yet, well . . . I’m starting to get a little concerned.

This is going to take way longer than I’d hoped, especially if this heat keeps up. Seriously, this is the hottest day ever. Possibly in my entire life. We’ve been working since dawn, trying to do as much as we can before the air gets too heavy, but it isn’t even noon yet and I feel like I’m trying to do push-ups on the surface of the freaking sun.

I don’t know how I managed to forget just how hot summers can get in Avenue, and at first I think maybe I just blocked it out, because holy crap. But when I think back, something tickles at the back of my memory, and I think I can remember my mother having an air conditioner chugging along in the window, coughing like a three-pack-a-day smoker as it worked. I also remember being small and following around the rotating head of the fan as it swept back and forth, trying to cool my little face, laughing as it blew my pale hair back.

Oh god, I think, grabbing a discarded magazine out of one of my mother’s bins—why she kept every magazine she ever owned, hell, that she could get her hands on, I have no idea—and start fanning myself with it. I reach back with my free hand and gather up as much of my hair as possible, pulling the mass up off my sticky neck. There are little rivulets of sweat running down under my loose T-shirt, and I’m seriously tempted to go back to the B&B for a shower, just so I can rinse the worst of the sweat off me. But I’m afraid if I go back there, I’ll be lulled into complacency by the air-conditioning I know they have there, and just never leave. An air conditioner sounds so good right now. Or a fan. I’d settle for a fan. A fan would be incredible.

But unfortunately, when my mother passed away, the power company switched off the juice, so the fan is a no-go, no matter how good it sounds right now. I just can’t risk it. With all the expenses I have going on right now, and my second year of college looming on the horizon, I just can’t afford the deposit the power company wants in exchange for switching the power back on.

So unless a miracle happens, we’re stuck and I get to feel like I’m dying.

Now I know how the Wicked Witch of the West must have felt.

Melting.

Melting.

Melting.

Would it be too weird if I snagged the bikini I’d shoved in my purse and changed into that? Would Ash care? Because seriously, I am dying here. It is so damn hot. And I’ve been carrying it around with me, just in case I ever happen to stumble upon the lake I know is around here somewhere. But I haven’t had the chance to go exploring, and I haven’t bothered asking any of the locals where it is, since it isn’t like I have any spare time and they probably wouldn’t tell me, anyway.

“Jesus Christ,” Ash’s voice calls out from behind me. “I think I’m dying.”

I look over, my eyes scanning across the yard, but I don’t see Ash. At least, not right away. After a moment, I see movement and I walk closer. Ash is actually lying face-down on the ground in the patch of shade cast by the big oak tree by the back fence. He’s got his arms starfished out at his sides, and he even has his bare cheek pressed against the cool dirt. As I walk up, he lets out a muffled groan and raises an arm weakly in my direction, before letting it fall limply to the ground.

I laugh. “You’re . . . not kidding.” I amble over to stand in the shade with him. It’s a little cooler here, but not by much. I crouch down for a minute, and his eyes blink open to look at me. “You okay?” I ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “Too hot. Dying.”

“Okay, drama queen,” I say, standing back up. “Just let me know if you want me to cover your body with dirt when you expire, or if you want me to drag you to the Dumpster instead.”

Ash groans and pushes himself up enough to flip over onto his back. I’m momentarily distracted by the movement of his muscles beneath his T-shirt. His back is broader than I had imagined. Not that I’ve been imagining what he looks like without clothes, it’s just . . .

Yeah. Just stop right there, Star.

“Just leave me here for the wolves,” he says, and lets his eyes fall shut again. “They’ll drag my body away. No Dumpster-chucking needed.”

I know he’s joking, but something about what he says gives me pause.

“Wolves?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light and playful. Because Miss Josephine’s tiny poodle already kind of freaks me out. Anything wolf-size or related would be over the line. Way over it. And I’ve been away from Avenue for a long time, so I can’t say for certain if he’s joking or not. It’s a small town near a forest. There could be wolves.

But all Ash says is “yeah,” which doesn’t help me figure out the whole wolf issue at all. Before I can work up the courage to actually ask, he continues with, “Holy shit, how can it even be so hot? This shouldn’t be possible. Humans wouldn’t have survived as a species. We’d all be dead.”

“That’s why we created air-conditioning,” I reply, and reach down to untie my sneakers. My feet are overheated, like the rest of my body, but at least this is one thing I can take care of. “So I guess you’re not used to it, either, huh?” I ask, sliding my shoes off my feet. Ideally, I’d be wearing my flip-flops in this heat—well, ideally I wouldn’t be out here in the heat in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there—but I didn’t dare, not in this place. Who knows what kind of stuff could be lying around, just waiting to be stepped on?

I press my bare feet into the dirt. It’s delightfully cool, and I wiggle my toes, getting the sandy earth wedged between them like a little kid on the beach.

“Yeah,” he replies. “The prison had the A/C running full blast. They had to. There would’ve been a shit-ton of riots if they let us bake like this.”

“People do get pissy in the heat,” I agree. I’m trying not to think about it, about what Ash went through. Just the thought of him in prison makes my stomach hurt.

Ash turns and opens one eye to look up at me. “You seem to be doing okay,” he says. And I grin.

“That’s only because you’re staying out of my way,” I tease. “If you had pissed me off, well, you’d already be in the Dumpster by now.”

“Hmmm,” he says, and lets his eyes fall shut again. “I don’t know. I think I could take you.”

Yes, you can, my brain helpfully supplies before I can shut it up.

Nope, I tell it. Not thinking about that. At all. I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts and check the time before sliding it back in and kicking my foot out, nudging Ash with my toe. “Come on,” I say. “Get up.”

“Ugh . . . ” he moans. “Why?”

“Because it’s too hot to work right now,” I say. “And if you get up I’ll buy you a slushie.”

He opens his eyes and pushes himself up so he’s leaning back against his bent elbows. Raising an eyebrow at me, he asks, “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I reply. “Any flavor you want. But you have to get up.” Technically I could just go buy the slushies and bring them back, but for some reason that I don’t want to think about, I want him to come with me.

A voice that sounds a hell of a lot like my roommate Autumn laughs at me from the back of my mind. Shut up, I tell it. It’s not a date. I turn back to Ash as I slip my sneakers back on my now-dusty feet. “You coming?” I ask.

“Okay,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. “But I’d just like to say that I’m not getting up because you told me to. I’m doing it solely for the slushie.”

“Duly noted,” I tell him, reaching into my pocket for the car keys. “But if that’s your attitude, you can stay in the car while I go into the nice air-conditioned mini-mart.”

Ash lets out an honestly pornographic-sounding moan and mumbles something that I’m pretty sure was “air-conditioning,” but it came out of his mouth like he was addressing some form of deity. He moves to step past me and my free hand reaches out automatically and starts brushing the sandy dirt off the back of his T-shirt. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until he freezes under my touch, and as soon as I see what I’m doing, my entire body tenses up in humiliation. Slowly, deliberately, I pull my hand away and brush it against the side of my shorts. Ash is looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face, and my face burns. But this time I know the fire I’m feeling isn’t from the sun.

“Sorry,” I mumble, and do a fumbling sort of wave as I try to gesture to his back. “Dirt.”

“Yeah,” Ash says softly, and then turns away to stare at the ground somewhere off to the side.

“Okay!” I say, and clap my hands together, because it isn’t like I can make it any more awkward at this point. “Let’s go.” I forge ahead toward the gate. “Car time. Slushies await.”

***

Taking the car was probably the wrong choice. It is still full of junk, so it is cramped as hell—the first thing I am doing when we get back is cleaning it out, I swear—and it is even hotter inside the car than it is outside, if that is possible. It takes nearly the entire drive over to the mini-mart for the ancient air conditioner to kick in, and when it does, it barely gives off a sputter of cold air before it craps out again.

Yeah, I am definitely going to need to get that fixed.

Goodbye, money.

I sigh and drag my overheated body out of the car. Ash is hot on my heels as I hustle into the mini-mart, the doors sliding open automatically in a burst of icy air that leaves me breathless. Oh, thank god. I’m tempted to just throw myself onto the Popsicle display face-first, and stay there forever. And I might have, if Ash didn’t herd me toward the slushie machine at the back of the store.

We’re there for less than a minute; me, trying to decide which flavor sounds most appealing, Ruby Blast or Arctic Blue, while Ash adds layer after layer of different flavors to his cup. He steps back and surveys his handiwork. It looks almost like a rainbow.

“That’s going to be disgusting,” I tell him, and reach for the machine that’s churning Arctic Blue. Arctic-anything sounds good right now. “All the flavors are going to combine into soup.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, and grabs a double-wide straw from the box next to the machine. He stabs it into his drink and takes a long sip. “It’s awesome. Also?” He nods toward the machine. “You’re going to spill that.”

I whip around. “Oh shit!” I yelp, slamming the slushie machine’s handle back into place. I’ve overfilled it. It hasn’t spilled, yet, but if Ash hadn’t said anything, it definitely would have. As it is, I don’t know how I am going to bring my extra-tall slushie to the guy at the counter with a straight face. The thing looks like a freaking mountain growing out the top of my cup.

Crap.

But Ash just chuckles behind me, and makes a grabby hand at my drink. “Come on,” he says, smiling. “Give it here.” As carefully as I can, I hand over my drink, and he hands me his and turns and starts making his way over to the counter. I can’t help but smile as I realize what he’s doing, and I snag myself a straw before turning to follow him.

He’s letting me hold the normal one, so the guy at the counter won’t comment. And he actually manages to do it with a completely straight face, even when we get to the cashier and the guy’s eyes bug out of his head at the sight of my blue monster.

“Thanks for that,” I say, once we’re back outside again.

“No problem,” he replies, switching our drinks back and taking a sip of his own.

I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off with a look and a crooked grin. “Seriously, Star. It was not a problem. Save your thanks for the big stuff.”

“And just what are you doing here,” a voice calls out and we both whip around. I stifle a groan.

It’s Lacey’s boyfriend, the one who was muttering shit about Ash in the diner the day we met. At least, I think it’s him. The other twin is right behind him, though, so it’s either Lacey’s boyfriend or his brother that’s being an asshole. Fantastic.

The guy walks up to us, not waiting for a reply, and steps a little too close to Ash for my comfort. And judging by the look on Ash’s face, he’s not too fond of his new friend, either.

“I guess you weren’t aware,” the guy says, getting up in Ash’s face, “but you’re not welcome here.” The guy has a good six inches on Ash and is staring right down at him. “So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll—”

“Hey, Ash,” I say before the guy can finish whatever the hell his threat is going to be. What a tool. “We should probably get back to work.” I stick the straw into my drink and, as casually as I can manage, take a sip as I reach between the two guys with my free hand and grab Ash’s wrist.

“’Scuse us,” I say to Preston or Clay or whoever the hell this guy thinks he is, and tug Ash out of the way. For a terrifying instant, Ash doesn’t budge under my grip, and I have visions of him shaking me off and him getting right back into this guy’s face. But I give one last tug and mercifully he relents and follows after me.

We’re halfway to the car when the jerk behind us kind of sputters and I turn back to see him looking between us and his brother in confusion. The other twin doesn’t seem to be quite as angry as the first one. He’s actually smothering the beginnings of a grin. I hold up my blue monster of a slushie and give them a little salute. “You guys have a good day!” I call out, making my voice as fake and sweet as I can manage.

My favorite foster father used to laugh and tell me I was going to grow up to be a smart ass. I’d been indignant back then, convinced he just wasn’t taking me seriously. But I’m starting to think that maybe he was right.

When I look back again, the twins have disappeared inside the mini-mart, and I drop Ash’s hand, grinning. But when I look over at Ash, his face is pale despite the summer heat, and his eyes kind of flicker up to meet mine, hesitant.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is soft and I can hear just how much effort it’s taking him to get his throat to work. It makes my chest hurt. He clears his throat and tries again. “Thanks . . . thanks for that,” he says. “It’s just, the fucking people in this town . . . ”

“It’s no problem,” I say, and grin at him while I take a sip of my slushie. He opens his mouth and tries again to get words out, but I stop him before he can. “Seriously, Ash. It wasn’t a problem. Save it for the big stuff,” I say, throwing his earlier words back at him. He kind of blinks at me for a second, then a smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth and I know he got it. He snorts at me and takes a long suck of his disgusting drink and after a minute, he’s got some color back in his face.

“All right, smarty-pants,” he says, and reaches his hand out, palm up. “Give me the keys.”

I dig them out of my pocket and hand them over without hesitation, but I have to ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s fucking boiling out here, and I’m going to take us someplace cool.” He heads to the driver’s side of the car, and I follow after him, ready to go wherever he takes me, because right now? Cool sounds like the best idea ever.

***

“You’re a genius,” I tell him, kicking off my shoes and scrambling down onto one of the rocks on the shore. I sit down, the remainder of my slushie in hand, and stick my feet down into the water. It’s gloriously cool, and I sigh with relief. Behind me, Ash chuckles and hops down from rock to rock until he’s sitting on the one next to mine.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the first time in my life anyone has actually referred to me like that,” he says, reaching down to yank off his own shoes. “I think I could get used to it.”

“Keep coming up with good ideas, and you’ll have to,” I say, and lean back to press my back up against the bigger rock behind me. I take another long sip of my drink, and even though it’s more liquid than ice now, it’s still cool and refreshing. Between it and the lake and the shade from the trees above us, I’m actually starting to cool down. Off in the distance, I can see the beach on the other side of the lake. There are people splashing and swimming, little motorboats zipping back and forth across the water. But it all seems a million miles away. Where we are, it’s quiet.

“How’d you even find this place?” I ask, because it’s not like you’d just stumble upon it. We had to park the car on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and follow a dirt path nearly hidden in the underbrush through the forest before we got here.

Ash smirks and dunks both his feet in the water at once, hard enough that the water splashes back and mists us with cool droplets. “Came down to the lake with my parents when I was a little kid,” he said. “They wanted to go to the beach—their friends were having some kind of fancy barbecue or something, I don’t know. They told me to go off and play with the other kids, but their friends’ kids never wanted to play with me, so I wandered off instead. Ended up here.” He looks out at the water, and he’s still smiling, but it’s not as bright as before. It’s almost sad. “I must have come out here a million times growing up. Whenever I just wanted to get away. The path was already there when I found it, but I’ve never seen anyone else here, so I figure it has to be pretty damn old. I probably wore it even deeper, coming out here so much.” He sighs and shifts until he’s lying flat on his back, his feet dangling over the side of the rock, staring up at the canopy of leaves above us.

“Have you been back?” I ask. “You know, since you got out?” I shove the straw back in my mouth and force myself to take another long brain-freezing slurp. I can’t believe that I’m reminding him of his time in prison. What the hell is wrong with me? But Ash just shakes his head and stays quiet.

Some time later, after I’ve finished my drink and we’ve been sitting there long enough to become lazy and sluggish, Ash groans and tugs himself back into a sitting position. “You know what?” he says to me. “Fuck it. I’m going for a swim.”

I can feel my brow furrow. “Seriously?” I ask him. What brought this on?

He nods and pulls himself to his feet. “I haven’t gone for a swim in five years. Longer, probably. I’m finally back here. I’m not going to let it go to waste.”

Then he reaches down and pulls his T-shirt over his head and my mouth goes dry.

Holy shit.

Ash is gorgeous. He’s all smooth muscle and wide shoulders and he’s got this big solid black tattoo on his left shoulder that snakes down like smoke. My eyes follow it, desperate to figure out what it is, and that’s when I see them.

The scars.

Holy shit.

Chapter 7

Ash

For a brief, glorious moment, I feel Star’s eyes on me, and I think she’s checking me out. And I want to throw my arms up in victory. Hot girl checking me out. Awesome.

Then I remember the scars, and I come crashing back down to reality. Shit. That’s why I hadn’t wanted to take my shirt off in the first place. I glance down at them. She hasn’t said anything yet, but I know how bad they look. My entire side is criss-crossed, and there’s one jagged one that looks like something tried to tear me in half. The funny thing is, my wounds from the crash look a hell of a lot worse than they ever were. I was messed up, yeah, but nothing vital was hit. I was never in any real danger.

The guy I hit, on the other hand, all he got was a bump on the head, and that was it for him. Lights out. It fucking sucks.

I hate the scars, but they’re important to me like almost nothing else ever has been. They’re my reminder. Every time I see them, I have to remember what I did, how I fucked up and caused the death of another human being. And I have to live with that.

Shoving down the urge to scoop my shirt back up off the rock and pull it back on, I look over at Star. Our eyes meet, and she looks a little sad.

Fuck.

She opens her mouth, and since I don’t want to talk about it, about the crash, about the guy I killed, about any of it, I cut her off before she can say anything. “You gonna join me?” I ask, and nod toward the water. She kind of blinks at me for a second, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to let me have my diversion, but then a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Maybe I want you to see how cold it is, first.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” I say, smirking. “You want to see if I’m gonna freeze my balls off when I jump in. Gonna leave it all on my shoulders, huh?”

“Well, swimming was your idea,” she says, and leans back against the rock.

“Fine, then,” I say, and start climbing back over the rocks, away from the shoreline.

“Hey!” she says, turning to watch me go. “Where are you going? I thought you were going in.”

“I am,” I tell her, and turn back around.

“Hard to do that from way over there. What? You chickening out already?”

I shake a finger at her. “You’re going to regret saying that in a minute,” I say. Then I drop my arm, bounce a little on the balls of my feet and start running toward the water.

I race through the forest, bare feet pounding against the dirt, and as soon as my feet hit rock, I do what I haven’t done in five whole years.

I close my eyes. I jump.

I fly.

In that moment, there’s nothing. Nothing but the wind in my face and the feeling of weightlessness before I come crashing down. And this . . .

This is the hardest part, the shock of the cold all around you when you first hit the water. It moves through your body in a jolt, like an electric shock gone wrong.

It gets to me every damn time, and this time is no different. Still reeling from the cold, I feel my feet hit the bottom of the lake bed, and I shove against it, propelling myself back to the surface. I spin around, searching for Star, and find her on her feet, sputtering, dripping with water. I grin. I knew my splash would get her.

“I told you so!” I yell. And she looks over and glares at me.

“You’re a jerk,” she calls back, wiping her hands down her arms to get the droplets of water off her.

I laugh. “Well, you’re already wet now,” I call out to her. “You might as well come in.” I’m not gonna lie, the sight of Star dripping wet in front of me is doing things to me. Even through the chill of the water, I can feel the heat that courses through my body at the mere thought of her with her soaked clothes sticking to her.

Down boy, I tell myself. No perving on Star. We’ve fucking established this.

“Turn around,” Star calls from the shore.

What?

“What?” I yell back. It’s weird how loud the water is once you’re actually on it. All I can hear is the sound of the waves around me, the echoes of the splashing and laughter from the beach across the way. Why the hell would she want me to turn around?

“Just turn around, Ash,” she says, planting her hands on her hips and giving me a little glare that’s honestly not doing anything to make the heat in my belly die down.

“Ugh, fine,” I say, and swirl my arms around me until I’m facing in the other direction. From here I can see the crowd on the beach, and I can’t help but wonder if my parents are a part of it. They could be there, right now, attending another barbecue or whatever the hell they do during the summer now that they’re retired. I’ve never asked. I feel kind of bad about that, all of a sudden. It’s been five years, and other than them losing my dog, I have no idea what they’ve done in all that time, no idea what their lives are like. I tread water for a bit, waiting, wondering what Star’s doing back there. With my luck, she’ll have grabbed my shirt and shoes and run for the car as soon as I turned around, leaving me waiting here, splashing around like an idiot. That’s what my ex Gina would have done. She would have laughed the whole way, and then would have told me to stop being such a pussy, that it was just a joke, when I would be all pissed at her, afterward.

Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.

But seriously, what the hell is Star doing back there? I wonder if I should turn around, but she told me not to, and technically she’s my boss, so . . .

“Okay,” her voice breaks through my daydreaming. “You can turn around now.”

With a splash, I turn back toward the shore, and I’m kicking myself for not turning around. She would have killed me, but it would have been worth it, because fucking hell that girl is wearing the tiniest black bikini I’ve ever seen, and I’m so freaking glad I’m immersed in cold water right now, because Jesus Christ. She’s so fucking hot. I can’t help it; I let out what I hope is the quietest groan ever, and dunk my head under the water. When I come back up for air, she’s making her way down the rocks like a billy goat, arms stretched out at her sides for balance.

The girl has tattoos everywhere and that fact alone is going to kill me.

“Be careful, okay?” I call out to her, because, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total asshole. “The rocks are slippery.”

“You’re not kidding,” she says, sliding a bit before catching herself with a gasp. I swim closer. Better she fall on me than on the rocks.

“Just get to the edge of that one and jump in,” I tell her. “It’s deep enough.”

“I’m not really the jumping type,” she tells me, but she plants her feet on the edge of the rock like she’s considering it, anyway. “Normally I just ease myself in.”

“Rookie mistake,” I say, and now that I’m close enough I start treading water again, holding my position. “It’s better to just get it over with.” She stares down at the water like she’s trying to figure out its secrets, and I want to laugh at the serious look on her face, but I’m too distracted by her tattoos. I’ve seen the one on her right arm, but it looks like she has an almost matching one on the back of her upper left one, but I can’t make out what it says. There’s also a bunch of stars trailing up her foot—fitting, I decide—and what looks like some kind of pink-and-white flowers dancing up her ribs.

She’s fucking gorgeous. Her eyes dart up to me, catching me looking at her, and at first I’m afraid she’s going to tell me off, but all she says is “you sure?” and I nod.

“Just jump,” I tell her. “You’ll be fine.”

And then she does.

***

We lose track of time and the sun is starting to set by the time we head back to the car. We’re dripping wet and laughing, our clothes sticking to our damp bodies like a second skin, our stomachs rumbling from our forgotten lunch and dinner.

“I’m starving,” Star moans as we pull up to the house. Her hair is still dripping, and the tiny droplets keep running down her neck and under her shirt, and I really really want to follow them with my eyes, find out where they go. But instead, I nod my head in agreement and haul myself out of the car. Instead of heading to the diner for the millionth time, we stopped at the grocery store on the way back and got stuff for sandwiches, and I pull the bag out of the backseat and slam the door. “I forgot how hungry swimming makes me.”

“Too bad,” I tell her, following her to the backyard. “Because I’m going to eat all the sandwiches. All of them.” I wrap my arms around the grocery bag to claim it for my own. “Every last one.”

“Not a chance,” she says. “You even try and I will feed you to the wolves.”

I laugh. “Then I’ll be full and the wolves will be full, and you’ll still be hungry. So that would still be a win for me.”

“But you’d be dead,” she points out.

“Full and dead,” I say, because the full part is the important one here.

“Ugh, you’re a terrible person,” she groans. “Why do I hang out with you again?” She’s joking, I know she is. But her words still make something jerk inside me. Because right now, she’s the only one I’ve got, and as amazing as Star is, that still really fucking sucks.

I step forward in the darkness, and go barreling into her unexpectedly. I grab her before we both go tumbling to the ground, and when we right ourselves, my arm is wound tightly around her waist. “Woah,” I say once we’re steady on our feet again. “Are you okay?”

“Ash?” There’s something in her voice that makes me freeze up. Something’s wrong.

“Yeah?”

“Were you being serious about the wolves?”

“What?”

She looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are like saucers. “Are there really wolves in Avenue?”

“Why?” She takes another step back, until her back is pressed hard up against my chest. She’s shaking. Her entire body is trembling in my arms.

“Because I think there’s something in the backyard.” Her voice cracks on the last word. It takes a second for her words to filter through my brain enough for me to make sense of them. As soon as I realize what she’s trying to tell me, I pull her back, putting my body between her and the gate to the backyard.

“Whoa, are you fucking serious?” I ask. I have my hand flat against her stomach, and I keep my arm extended, keeping her well behind me. I can feel her muscles jump beneath my fingers. I take a careful step forward, trying to see into the backyard while still keeping my distance. But it’s too dark. I can’t see. The only light out now is the glow from the streetlights, and it isn’t quite making it to the backyard. Fuck.

I realize I’m still holding the grocery bag, so I hand it back to Star. She takes it without a word, and together we edge closer to the backyard. We’re almost at the gate when, out of the corner of my eye, I see something move along the back fence, disappearing into the shadows under the oak tree. “There!” Star hisses, reaching out and jabbing a finger toward the shadow. “Did you see it? It was right there?” She takes a step forward, and I reach out and catch her by the arm, pulling her back.

“I saw it,” I say. “At least, I think I did.” It is too dark, too fucking dark. I can’t see anything clearly. My free hand darts out, and snags the flashlight out of the box that we’d dumped by the side of the house. I flick the switch and a beam of light shoots out. I flash it over the fence, scanning the light back and forth, gazing hard into the darkness.