Page 91 of Séance

I usually enjoy keeping tabs on everyone and keeping them out of trouble.

It’s different with Rue.

They need to do better.

Be better.

None of us are worthy of her.

That doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to let her go.

She’s ours.

She’s stuck with us now.

“Why don’t we go inside and clean you up?” I offer gently and nudge her toward the door. I don’t want to give her a chance to go inside without one of us, my need to take care of her superseding everything else, and I grit my teeth against the need to drag her into the house, wash away the blood, and inspect her injuries myself. I need to make sure she’s okay.

She glances at each of us in turn, her teal eyes judging our worth, and I watch as, one by one, we each straighten to attention. With a heavy sigh, she pushes the tangled mess of her hair away from her face, then she turns toward the door.

“You all might as well come into the house. After today, the least I owe you is an explanation.” She moves to grab her keys, only to come up empty.

“Here, let me get that.” I dig her keys out of my pocket, gently nudge her aside, and open the door.

When she casts me a confused look, I shrug sheepishly. “I fished them out of the lake with your wallet and phone.”

She closes her eyes and her shoulders droop, her words barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

Her movements are slow and stiff, and I grip the bags in my hands tighter to resist the urge to scoop her up in my arms. The only thing stopping me is my fear of hurting her more. I open my mouth to offer her help when she turns toward us. “Why don’t you make yourself at home? I really need a shower. I’ll be quick, then I’ll join you and explain everything.”

The guys, as one, all take a seat around the table, none of them willing to risk getting kicked out. When Rue leaves the kitchen, I follow her, needing to make sure she makes it to her room.

Once she enters the bathroom, I deposit the bags on the bed, then I linger like a creep, unable to make myself leave when she’sjust a door away. One by one, the others join me, and we each watch the door almost obsessively.

Jameson wanders around the room, then he takes a seat near the window. Jaceson leans against the wall near the dresser, giving himself a clear view of the room and bathroom door. Gunner hovers out in the hall, almost like he’s nervous to enter her room without permission. Seated at the edge of the bed, I lean forward, my forearms on my knees, and wait.

“Should we order food?” Jameson asks, glancing at each of us. “Do you think pookie is hungry?”

He jumps to his feet, ready to charge into the kitchen to find something for her. “James.”

He skids to a stop, nearly toppling over in his rush. “But?—”

“She needs rest. She doesn’t need to find a mess in her kitchen.” I give him a pointed look, ignoring the way his eyes narrow. “Order something online and have it delivered.”

That has his expression brightening. He gropes for his phone, then retakes his spot by the window as he fiddles with it, and I’m not surprised his device escaped the water. The little shit is lucky like that. He’s so intent on his task that I have no doubt we’ll have enough food to feed fifty people in less than an hour.

James doesn’t do anything by halves.

To him, bigger is always better.

The shower shuts off, and each of us straightens, automatically turning toward the door. Five minutes pass, then ten, and I scowl with worry.

“Too much time has passed,” Gunner mutters, crossing his arms as he glares at the door blocking his access to Rue.

I completely agree.

Worried she might be lying on the floor, I cross the bedroom with large strides, and the others follow suit. Just as I lift my hand to knock on the door, it swings open, leaving me staring at an adorably ruffled Rue.

Her pink hair rests in loose spirals around her head, the strands haphazardly pulled back from her face with a headband, the style accentuating the soft angles of her gorgeous face. She’s wearing an oversized sweater that reaches her knees, the edges of her boxers barely peeking out from the bottom. Fluffy socks are pulled up to her knees, looking soft as a cloud.

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