Page 39 of Heartless

His answer is a noncommittal hum. Something about it draws my attention and my suspicions.

Glancing up at him, I study his nonchalance for a few seconds, and it cements my worries that he’s hiding somethingfrom me. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and when he still doesn’t speak, I look out the window to see just how close to my house we are, and which way he’s taking us.

But when we pass the only gas station in town with a red sign and rusted-over pumps, it hits me.

“You’re not taking me home,” I accuse, fear tingling up my spine.

“You sure about that?” There’s something like amusement in his voice, and he eyes me sidelong, surveying my face as I look at him in confusion.

“Are you…” I’m not afraid of Cassian. Definitely not scared enough of him to jump out of a moving car or anything so dramatic. I value my unbroken bones way too much.

“Am I…?” He rolls to a stop at the one intersection on this side of town and turns to look at me, eyebrows raised with interest and maybe a little bit of mockery. “Am Iwhat,Winnie?” God, I could learn to hate that tone of voice. And the goading look in his bright blue eyes.

“Are you taking me to get coffee from the fancy place? It might be closed by now.” My phone vibrates and I pull it out of my pocket, wincing when I bend my sore hand. My heart still flutters, and as if he knows that’s not the real question I want to ask, he scoffs before accelerating again.

Even as my eyes land on the missed texts and calls from Reagan, I don’t really see them. I’m not really reading them. The car’s engine seems to purr too-loudly in my ears, and it’s hard to focus on anything else.

“I’m kidnapping you, Winnie.” Cass reaches out, his fingers hovering near my hair. I can almost feel the warmth from his skin, but I still don’t look up. “That’s what you should’ve asked me. If you had, I would’ve told you the truth.” He brushes my hair behind my ear and I still sit there, stiff as a board and still unable to really see the messages on my phone.

“I’m kidnapping you because apparently, I can’t trust you not to get attacked by some stranger in a haunted house taking things too seriously.” His fingers flex on the steering wheel and he places his other hand back on it in a perfect ten-and-two grip.

“And that’s my fault?” My brows jerk upward and I stare at him, incredulous. “How is itmy fault?!”

“Because you are apparently just so murder worthy,” he replies sweetly. “So I’m kidnapping you. To Akron. Until I come up with a plan to keep my pretty sack of potatoes unbruised and unmashed.”

All I can do is stare at him, unable to even be mad when I’m so mortified at his pun. “That was dreadful.” My tone is flat and lacking anything other than disbelief. “I’m embarrassed for you. So fucking corny, dude.”

He chuckles, flashing me a sweet, puppy-like grin that almost makes my heart melt. “I live in Akron.”

Surprise ripples through me. “Akron?” I repeat, my voice softer than I mean it to be. “I thought…well I guess I just assumed that you’d moved way further away than that after…you know.”

“After the psych ward? Well, you didn’t move at all, so at least I did better than you, Winnie.” The words, the casualness of discussing that time in our lives is so unexpected.

So fucking refreshing.

There are a million questions on my tongue about him and his life. About his family, about how people respond when they tell them about the psych ward.Ifhe tells them. But all the questions die on my tongue at the expectation of what the answers might be and how they might not be what I want to hear.

At least not yet.

“Akron, huh?” I murmur, tracing my fingers over my palms. I turn my phone over in my hands, finally forcing myself to open Reagan’s messages while avoiding her frantic voicemails.

I’m fine, I type to her, then hesitate. She definitely deserves better than that. I’d be a shitty friend if that’s all I gave her after what happened.

I’m okay. I got a little hurt in the haunted house. A friend picked me up. I couldn’t find you and I was freaking out a little.That sounds…better. I think. It’s a little better than the first message, anyway.

Reagan’s response is, of course, much longer and more detailed. But my head aches too much for me to read it more than once and I sit in the passenger seat, not knowing exactly how to respond or even if I want to.

“Hey.” Cass’s hand covers the phone, and he tugs it out of my grip before depositing it into a cup holder. “You can talk to her later. We’ve got another thirty minutes or so to my apartment.” His hand comes up, fingers tracing my jaw, before he gently but firmly shoves me back to relax in my seat. “So zone out. Take a nap. She can wait, princess.”

“You don’t know her.” I sigh, but I don’t resist. Especially not when he hits a button and the seat starts warming up under me. “She doesn’t like to wait.”

“Well, maybe she should learn some patience. Now at least close your eyes for me, Winnie. And pretend you’re asleep while I try to remember if I cleaned up all my dirty dishes and laundry.”

Pretending to be asleep lasts all of three minutes, give or take sixty seconds. After what feels like ages, I open my eyes, shifting in the passenger seat as my hand and arm throb. “I’d thank you if you weren’t kidnapping me,” I mutter with a sigh, staring out the window as street lights zoom by on the edges of the empty highway. I’m not exactly sure what road we’re on, and mystomach twists itself into a French knot at the idea of being not only alone with Cassian but also at his apartment, at his mercy.

He could do whatever he wanted to me, and there would be no one around to help me. Not to mention, I don’t know many parts of Akron very well, so running away from him if things go bad wouldn’t exactly be the easiest thing to do.

“I don’t need you to thank me. Besides, it wouldn’t be sincere,” Cassian replies. From the corner of my eye, I watch his hands shift on the steering wheel, until finally he reaches out with the one closest to me and curls his fingers over my thigh.

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