Page 25 of The Misfit

Emma:You might want to figure something out fast.

I should message her back and tell her I’m already working on it, but I don’t. If I have any hope of fixing this with Salem, then I need to focus on the present.

She needs me. I need her.

We’re both just trying to survive in worlds that want to fix us.

If she’d agree, I know we could protect each other.

“Now you just sound like a Lifetime movie,” I speak to my empty Jeep.

But I’m already reaching for the Ziploc bag of gloves.

I’m halfway up her driveway when I realize how batshit crazy this is. It’s almost midnight. Like I need to end up in jail again.Jesus.I’m stalking—no,strategically approaching—a girl who literally ran away from me an hour ago when I shared a prospective idea that could benefit us both.

And my brilliant plan is what?“Hey, just swinging by to drop off your gloves. Also, please agree to fake date me so my family doesn’t disown me?”

Yup. Smooth. Real smooth.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and spot Salem at her window again. This time, she’s pressing her forehead against the glass. The streetlight catches her face just right, highlighting the exhaustion in her expression. The way her gloved hands press flat against the windowpane.

One, two, three times.

My attention fractures between a dozen details at once: the wind chimes tinkling on her porch, the way her dark hair falls across her face, and the welcome mat realigned exactly parallel with the doorframe.

Everything about this house screams careful control, except …

The basketball hoop hanging over the garage, crooked and well-used. The pair of muddy cleats kicked off by the steps. The overgrown garden that’s seen better days. It’s perfect and imperfect all at once. Just like her.

“You lost?”

I jolt and spin to find the voice, tearing my gaze away from Salem. Noah stands at the side of the house, a trash bag in his hand and an expression that clearly says he’s deciding whether to kick my ass or call the cops.

“I, uh …” I hold up the Ziploc bag like a peace offering. “She left these at the party.”

His eyes narrow with suspicion. “Lee Sterling, right?”

“My reputation precedes me?”

“Your reputation is exactly why you should get back in your Jeep and leave.”

Fair enough. I’d feel the same way if some fuck boy showed up on our doorstep trying to talk to my sister. Especially after everything Salem’s been through. He has every right to be wary. Good thing I know my intentions are pure,mostly. Noah doesn’t know that, though. His protective stance reminds me of all the times Emma stuck up for me, shielding me from our parents’help.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” I smirk. “I know, given my reputation, that seems odd, but I promise. I just wanted to make sure she was okay and return these.” I lift the Ziploc bag of gloves. “I know she needs them.”

Noah studies me for a long moment. “And you care, why?”

Because she’s my last hope, and I’m obsessively fascinated with her.

Probably not the best thing to say, so of course my brain conjures up the next terrible response.

“She gets me.”Nope. Too honest.“I mean—fuck, I don’t know what I mean.”

Noah’s stance shifts, curiosity warring with suspicion. I shift and risk catching another glimpse of Salem. She’s pacing again.One, two, three steps.Three is her number.

“Do you really expect me to believe that? That shegetsyou?” Noah snorts and rolls his eyes. He thinks I’m crazy, and he’s not wrong. I have to wonder if I’m losing my mind as well. “Even saying it out loud makes me cringe. The filthy rich playboy and my OCD sister. It sounds like a really bad joke.”

“I know how it appears, but you would be surprised by the things people hide behind.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but from Noah’s slight frown, I don’t quite manage it. “That doesn’t matter because maybe …” I’m distracted by movement inside.

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