Page 130 of Wrath

“Sorry.” I smile, rubbing at his brow. “Might have gotten grease on your face.”

“Grease me up.” He gives me a heavy-lidded little grin that makes my dick throb. Then he’s getting out his car door. I adjust my peach ball cap and step out into the grass, feeling so damn hungry for him.

His eyes sparkle as he holds a hand out for me. I thread my fingers through his, loving how damn warm and big and soft his hand is.

“Let’s go up the side steps,” he says. “They’re more sturdy than the front ones.”

I’ve been watching Mills for weeks now—every chance I get, almost obsessively. So I know his face. Which is how I know he’s nervous right before he catches his lip between his teeth. His eyes fly to mine, then flit down to the grass. Then he brings my hand to his chest. Mills adjusts his grip a little, and my stomach tugs from somewhere down low. He’s not just holding my hand—he’s hugging it.

When he catches my eye as we approach the house’s side steps, I can’t breathe for all the things that’re tumbling through my head. I want to say something to him, to say again how much I love him.

Hi, no one’s held my hand since I was like six.

No one’s touched me in a few years except nurses and a lot worse.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

My throat tightens unexpectedly as he leads me up the lichen-covered cement steps.

“This door is kinda hanging off its hinges… Just be careful and don’t bump it.” I figure he’ll drop my hand as we go up the steps, but he doesn’t. His thumb strokes over my knuckles as we step up into…

“Oh wow.”

I think there are Tumblr pages for this sort of stuff; urban decay, but in this case, I guess it’s rural Southern mansion decay.

The room we’re in was probably a parlor—a very long time ago. I blink, taking in the strangeness of it. There’s a big-asschandelier hanging from the ceiling, glittering under a coat of dust. The floor is dirty hardwood, littered with paint peels that fell from the caving ceiling. The walls have plywood scaffolding exposed through patches that seem to have just crumbled away. At the top and bottom, they’re lined with thick, fancy crown molding.

“This room used to be a letter-writing room,” Mills tells me. “See, look at this…” He leads me past a rotting, wing-backed chair and sagging velvet couch to what looks like a gnome-sized bookshelf built into the wall.

“Those little cubbies were for letters?” I ask.

“Yep. To store your correspondence with…whomever.”

I run my fingertip over the coating of dust in one of them. There’s a piercing pain in my chest as I think of letters…journals. To distract myself, I touch the wallpaper, which actually feels textured.

“Damn, I’m kinda digging this shit.”

“Yeah,” he says, “the pattern’s pretty vintage.”

“Kinda…gemstone forest.”

“It is,” he laughs. “I know this place is old and weird, but I love the vibe. Wanna see more?”

Miller leads me down a hall where two paintings still hang. They’re so old and weather-worn that I can’t tell what they once featured.

“This is so weird,” I murmur, stroking the top of his hand with my thumb. “Like whoever lived here just…left.”

I blink as we move into the kitchen. It’s shaped like a hexagon, with shattered windows all along the back three walls. Teal green fridge, gold-veined marble-looking countertops, a rickety table, and a big, trough sink that’s caked with dust and grime.

“Most of the drawers are empty,” Mills says. “The historical society hauled a lot of that stuff away, after the cops said people were taking it. Last time I looked, all I saw was some oldblender. It’s bright orange, though. Wanna see?” He tugs me down with him as he crouches in front of one of the cabinets. Then he turns toward me, putting his free hand on my shoulder. “Sorry, is this making your legs sore?”

I grin. “I’m not gonna break, Mills.”

I bring our joined hands to my mouth so I can kiss the back of his.

I can almost see his pupils dilate as he looks at me. Heart eyed, like the damn emoji. He blinks slowly, and it’s like he goes into a daze.

My heart rate kicks up as I wonder for a second if something is wrong, but then his free hand grips my shoulder and his mouth covers mine.

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