Page 17 of Pray for the Damned

“No, but I wanted to. I don’t like the idea of you walking around the city by yourself. There’s danger lurking at every corner.”

Don’t I know it.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Waverly.” He smiles as he makes quick work of undoing the helmet and removing it from me, just to put it over his own head.

I step back, and he gives me a wink as he pulls back onto the street.

I’m so fucked. I’ve managed to escape the interest of the opposite sex for the last decade, but I guess I should have known it wouldn’t last forever.

Biting down on my lip, I climb the steps of my apartment building and make my way to the fourth floor. The lift has been broken for the entire time I’ve lived here, and at this point I’m so used to the stairs I don’t think I’d use it even if it worked.

My neighbors pretend I don’t exist as I pass them, and I return the favor, but when I unlock my door and secure the deadbolt and two additional locks I had installed when I moved in, I feel more alone than I have in all the years I’ve lived by myself.

With a sigh, I drop my bag on the table and press the answering machine button. Thankfully it has a backup battery, but it’ll die soon if I can’t afford to get the power turned back on.

I ignore the first two messages telling me I’m late paying bills before pausing when a familiar voice fills the room.

“Hi Waverly, it’s Wyatt here. We were really impressed with your trial shift last night. Would you be willing to come in tonight to fill in all your paperwork so we can get you on the roster for the end of the week?”

A smile spreads across my face, and I slump into the rickety dining chair I rarely use. Finally the universe is giving me a break.

I quickly call back and leave a message on his machine letting him know I’ll be there.

I don’t want to get my hopes up until I know what kind of hours I’m looking at, but if I can get enough shifts, I might be able to do away with the diner altogether.

Wouldn’t that be a dream.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

KADE

Once I drop Waverly back at her apartment, I make my way across town to visit my brother at work.

The only reason I could approach our girl without him knowing this afternoon is because he had a series of meetings that would keep him tied up, and that gave me the chance to spend some quality time with Waverly.

When she curled herself around me and held on for dear life, I thought I was a goner, but it was when she tripped and I caught her that did me in. The trust that filled her eyes as she stared at me was something I never could have prepared myself for.

No onetrustsme. They’d be fucking stupid too.

I’m as untrustworthy as they come, but for her, I’d be anything.

What started as a fascination with my brother’s obsession quickly became my own, and now I couldn’t walk away even if I wanted to.

Which means I need to work out where his head is at and make my move if it’s too far up his ass to do the same.

I park the bike up the street from the community church and take long strides toward the wide-open front doors. Part of me is a little concerned I’m going to burst into flames the second Istep over the threshold, but when I reach the doorway, I don’t hesitate.

I notice Emmett on the front bench, his hands in his lap as he listens to the teenaged boy next to him. The boy is upset, that much is obvious from the tears falling against his ashen cheeks, but he listens intently to every word my twin says to him.

I’ve spent a lot of time since I moved to the city watching my brother, but never this close, and I can’t help but be fascinated by the way he listens to every single word the kid says. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to anyone as closely as he is this stranger, and it’s mesmerizing.

His training kicks in, obviously feeling my eyes on him, and he looks around, scanning the large space for potential threats, and then they lock with mine.

He says something to the boy, who nods and shoulders his backpack before making his way down the aisle and out the front doors while Emmett remains seated.

I sigh and slip out from my uncomfortable wooden bench. You’d think they’d make these seats more comfortable to encourage more people to come to church, but my ass is numb after just a few minutes.

Rounding the front of the church, I drop onto the bench beside my twin, with my ankles crossed nonchalantly.

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