Page 4 of Runaways

"What?" he asks. "You want me to leave it out there so the coyotes end up in our backyard again? Do you like Mittens, Mia? Because that's a good way to ensure he ends up a fucking snack."

Silas cackles until he sees the look on my face, and then he stops, quietly slipping his hand inside the back of my still-wet shirt, lightly running his fingers up and down my spine in a way that's both comforting and terrifying.

I fight the urge to sink into his side and hold my breath, hoping Mia won't notice what he's doing.

"Even if I remembered what it was like to laugh, that wouldn't be fucking funny, Tate," Mia says. The anger in her voice has dissipated and in its place is the sad, detached tone we're all too used to at this point.

It's hard, and I hate it. I almost wish I could go back in time and note the fact that it was gone—if only for a minute, and even if it was replaced by disgust. I'd thank the fox; it's better than this. I see it on Tate's face, too.

"Aw, come on, sis." He passes her the joint. "Tonight was fun. And you know Levi is going to cry like a little bitch when he finds out his motorcycle is gone."

Mia inhales, holding the smoke in her mouth while she passes it to me, and I do the same.

"And his dad is going to spank him," Silas adds.

This time, even I laugh with the guys, despite my best effort not to.

"It wasn't fun," Mia says, wiping a tear away from under her eye. "This fucking sucks. I'm fucking sad, okay? I'm so fucking sad I can feel it in my bones, and it's not funny. Andnowyou'releaving me," she directs at me. "Who is going to help me hide from all of his friends when school starts next week? They're going to laugh at me."

"I can't do anything about that," I tell her. "Do you really think Iwantto leave?"

"I miss him," she says. "When Mom was sick, he was good. He sat with me at the hospital all day when she had chemo and—"

"He's a fucking asshole," Tate says.

"Tate," Mia says, shaking her head. "So are you. You are thesameperson. You treat people the same way." Tate scoffs before Mia looks at me and adds, "You hear that, Noah?"

Silas's hand stills. "What do you mean?" I ask, my heart in my throat.

She shrugs, leaning forward as if she needs to warm her hands over the fox carcass, but the rain stopped and it's plenty warm now. "I'm just making sure you know that."

"Maybe I've changed," Tate tells her. "Maybe I'm just really picky about who I can trust."

"Really? You're going to play it like that? You're just a sensitive guy who can't commit because he has trust issues?"

Tate shrugs. "Yeah, that sounds pretty good, actually."

Mia shakes her head as Silas snorts. "Whatever, Tate," she says.

It's quiet for a few seconds—in an awkward, uncomfortable way I hope she doesn't notice—aside from the crackling of the fire. "Maybe we should—" I start before I'm interrupted by shouting coming from the building behind us.

"That your new daddy?" Silas asks.

"Don't call him that," I say. "But yeah, probably."

Definitely.

"It's not fucking normal," Tate says.

I shrug. "Moving is stressful."

"That's not what I mean, Noah," he says. "Well, yeah—that, too, but…they just met. Who wants to move a strange woman and her teenage daughter into their house after a month and a half?"

"I don't know. They're old. Maybe they just don't want to waste time. Maybe he's lonely."

"So, you like the guy?" Tate asks, his tone hostile.

"No, I don't fuckinglikethe guy; I don't even know the guy. But I guess that doesn't really matter. I told you guys about this weeks ago. Why are you doing this right now?"

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