Page 524 of Hate Mates

Harlan chuckles. “So young. So innocent.”

What does that mean, though?

I want to shout it at him, but I’ve never seen him really break under the pressure of someone raising their voice at him before.

“You’ll get it someday, Karter,” he assures me with a pat on the head. I swat angrily at his arm, and he laughs as he holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m getting hungry, though. I wonder if we can eat any of those.”

I follow his gaze toward a low-hanging branch of bright red berries.

“I don’t know which ones are poison,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe we should just turn around and go back the way we came. Jessop’s got to have figured out that we’re gone by now.”

“Live a little, Karter,” Harlan scoffs as he walks over toward the branch and picks off three berries. He turns around as he pokes at them with the tip of his finger, then pops them into his mouth. I watch as he chews them, his eyes narrowing as he tries to more than likely figure out what kind of berries they are.

Then, suddenly, he starts to cough. His hands fly to his throat as he bends forward, gagging and coughing until he drops to his knees.

“Harlan!” I shriek as I rush toward him.

I move behind his semi-crumpled form, lean down, and wrap my arms around his waist. I grip a wrist, take a deep breath, and thrust five times against his stomach. But it doesn’t do anything. Harlan keeps coughing and gagging, so I do another set of five.

Panic sets in, tears roll down my face.

I’m not helping him at all.

Then the sound coming from him changes.

His hands drop from around his throat to the grass below as his body shakes … with laughter.

“Oh, Ihateyou!” I shout at him as I shove him away.

He holds up a hand, trying desperately to control his laughter.

I never did like being laughed at, and he knows that better than anyone else.

“I hope you choke for real,” I snarl at him as I turn and start stomping back toward the home.

I can hear him calling my name, expecting me to stop and probably listen to whatever stupid explanation he wants to give, but I don’t care.

Harlan hasn’t changed in three years, and I doubt that he ever will.

“Wait up, Karter! You’re bleeding!” he finally manages to shout.

Chapter Eight

HARLAN

Sixteen Years Old

“What?” she barks as she finally stops walking.

I nod down toward the back of her jeans, “You’re bleeding.”

I wipe away the tears from my eyes. I didn’t mean to laugh as hard as I did, but the fact that this little squirt tried to save my life instead of end it after all of these years actually tickled me.

She glances down over her shoulder, twisting her body as best as she can, and then becomes frustrated when she can’t see what I’m talking about.

I wipe away one more tear, step forward, and point at the bottom of her curvy little ass. “Right there.”

“I don’t see anything,” she grunts as she tries to look again.

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