Page 30 of Diem

You’d think he was my dad with the way he’s patrolling me and I’ve a mind to tell him to lighten up. When I can feel my lips anyway.

Bone eyes me with a wide grin before saying to Matt, “I heard you been messing around where you shouldn’t be.”

Matt stiffens and I grab a clump of my hair, unashamedly eavesdropping. It’s not my fault if they think I’m too drunk to remember. Right?

“What?” Matt says and Bone shifts, grabbing my shoulder when I lean toward the dirt.

“The Sinners don’t like it when you sniff around their territory. You feel me?”

“Yeah, I feel you, but I don’t fucking care about the fucking Sinners,” Matt sneers.

“Is that right?” Diem says, appearing across the fire like a demon from hell. No lie, his skin glistens in the light and I take a peek at his gloriousness while Matt shrinks beside me.

Of course, all else fades when Diem enters the picture. Dick.

With a snort, I roll my eyes when his gaze drops to mine. Before he can say anything, though, I mumble, “I was here first.”

His mouth quirks in a smile and I blink, transported back to the time when he teased me mercilessly but only to make me laugh. As quickly as I blinked though it’s gone, and I sigh before resting my hand on my chin or is it my chin on my hand? Whatever.

Where’s the Diem I used to know?

His eyes flicker before he stalks around the fire and lifts me into his arms. Collapsing against his chest, I shiver when he whispers in my ear, “I’m the same Diem I’ve always been.”

“Hm,” I hum while he carries me down the trail and plops me in the SUV.

I watch him round the vehicle before leaning against the window because the world is spinning around me. I’m just closing my eyes, when Diem slams his door and says as we pull down the dirt road, “What did you take?”

“Don’t know,” I mumble.

“You don’t know? Fucking-A, sweet.”

The term of endearment is like a dagger to my heart and suddenly tears are rolling down my face.

“Fuck,” he mutters while I bat at them uselessly. “What?”

“Nothing,” I sob, covering my face. Fuck me, why can’t I get a hold of myself.

“Mae…” Diem says, and I drop my hands.

“No,” I screech, and he winces. “You don’t get to do that. This isn’t about you.”

“Then what’s it about?” he asks stiffly.

Waving my hand I slur, “Everything. My mom. Dixie….”

Diem’s eyes are wide while I rant and sucking in a breath, I clamp my mouth shut and turn toward the window, refusing to speak further the entire way home. I’ve said too much already, and it would seem, he’s not afraid to use it as fodder. When will I learn to keep my mouth shut?

Diem is not my friend…

When we pull up to my house, I step shakily from the SUV as Diem says, “Maeve?”

Gripping the door, I whisper, “Yeah?”

“Lay off the drugs.”

Meeting his gaze, I roll my eyes and slam the door shut before stalking up the porch steps.

Diem idles at the curb until I’m inside and as I listen to him drive away; I rub my eyes.

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