Page 47 of Love Me Dangerous

“Can you call Henry Hutton?” I ask Sofie.

I expect her to react—in surprise or to tease—but she rests her hand on my hip as if wanting to reassure me. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything else I can do?”

I can’t ask her to stay up all night keeping me company. Especially when I’m not likely to sleep thanks to the throbbing pain in my side and the dull headache. But I want to.

And that scares me.

“I’ll come back in a little bit, okay?” she says.

I close my eyes.

Something wakes me with a start,which jabs a spear of pain into my lungs. Gasping, I try to relax, but the pain stays hot and sharp.

I’ve been here for two nights. Yesterday is a blur. I tried to sleep, but the pain woke me again and again. Ate what I could. Slept some more. I think Henry stopped by—I heard his voice, though it could be a dream. Today, however, I plan to get on with things.

The room is still dark, but from somewhere in the house, water is running.

“You make funny noises.” It’s the little sister. Linnea. I blink in the direction of the doorway. She’s standing in faded jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, her hair in two long braids. The dog, Fergie—I think—sits at her side, wagging her tail.

“Linn,” Sofie’s voice carries a warning tone. She swoops into the room, giving me a concerned glance and a harried “sorry” before steering her sister off.

“Why does he have a snake tattoo?” Linnea mutters as they move toward the kitchen.

Fergie walks in and curls up against the side of the bed. She licks her chops and sighs.

The front door shuts and I’m alone again. Through the window across the room, the early hint of the sunrise warms the view of the forest. Tall trees and aspens. My side throbs.

That first night, Rowdy said something about not having anything stronger in the house. Is it because of Jesse? Family members of addicts are often warned not to keep prescription meds around. Shit. It could also mean Jesse struggles with mental health issues. Either would be cause for Sofie to worry like she does.

The front door opens and shuts with a creak and a soft click, then Sofie reappears.

She’s dressed in leggings and an oversized fleece pullover that I’m guessing is her dad’s. Or a boyfriend’s. I grimace at this idea, then curse myself for thinking it.

I have no say in who keeps Sofie Whittaker warm at night. Kiss or no kiss.

She’s removed the shoes she wore to walk Linnea to the school bus, revealing mismatched socks.

“How do you feel?” She lowers to the side of the bed near my knees. Fergie sits up and rests her snout on the bed, like she’s listening for my answer too.

“Like shit.”

She sighs. “Do you know who did this?”

“I thought you might.”

She shakes her head. “The plates were local. That’s all I saw.”

“Doesn’t Gabe drive a black truck?”

“Yeah.” Her gaze turns puzzled. “Gabe was at The Limelight.”

Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have left without Sofieknowing.

“Zach, I don’t think Gabe would do something like this.”

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