Page 124 of Wicked Dreams

Robert starts picking up, casting me a glance or two before setting down the canvases and approaching. “Something is wrong.”

“It was just a tough day.”

He sits on the stool next to me. The one Caleb usually takes. “Did something happen at that party on Friday?”

I flinch. “No, it’s more complicated than that. It just needs to work itself out.”

He exhales. “It hurts to see you like this, Margo. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks, Robert.”

He packs up his bag, and we head toward his car.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb is waiting for us.

The whole school emptied out fast. Besides cars belonging to students staying late for sports, the parking lot is deserted. He rises from where he was leaning against his car, parked next to Robert’s, and shoots him a smile.

“Mind if I steal her?” he asks Robert.

My foster dad shrugs. “I think she could use some cheering up. Even though she’stechnicallygrounded.”

I wince.

Robert chuckles. “Just be back before Len gets home around five, okay?”

“You got it, Mr. Bryan,” Caleb says.

His gaze turns to me, and he takes in the chocolate milk stain on my shirt, then my bloodshot eyes. Is that from crying? I’ll never tell.

He opens the passenger door for me and takes my backpack off my shoulder.

We sit in his car and wait until Robert drives away.

“Today was hell.” Obviously.

He leans across the center console. “You’re a fighter.”

That might be the first time he’s ever paid me a compliment.

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.” His fingers undo the buttons of my blouse, and fuck it, I let him.

“I don’t want to handle it,” I say quietly. “I just want?—”

He finishes with the buttons and pushes the soiled fabric off my shoulders. His gaze rises to mine, his eyebrow up with a silent question.

What do you want, Margo?

“I have to do this again tomorrow?” I ask, my voice weak.

He reaches into the back and produces a sweatshirt. I’m collecting them now, I think. I shrug it on over my bra, settling the warm fabric around me. It smells more deeply like his cologne, and I lift the collar to inhale more of it.

“Maybe something more interesting will crop up tomorrow.” He winks at me, then finally puts the car in drive.

We head in an unfamiliar direction. When he turns into a driveway and parks, I have no choice but to follow him up the front walkway.

“Whose house is this?”

“Eli’s,” he says. “He’s busy. But since you only have a few hours, I figured I could make your day a little better.”

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