Page 172 of Stop and Seek
His hand landed on Theo’s thigh.
And for a second—justone—Theo thought he’d say it.
Thought he’d ask:Do you really want to do this?
End-game shit right there.
Theo would’ve folded. Would’ve said,You go. I’ll wait here.Would’ve let the fear win. Let himself be the one left behind, warm and clean in the passenger seat while blood got on someone else’s hands.
But Noah didn’t ask.
“Gloves, baby,” he said instead. “I wasn’t kidding about the Sterlings. I don’t want you involved.”
Theo nodded, throat tight.
His fingers trembled as he reached for the gloves. The latex snapped against his wrists when he tugged them on, meshing with the sweat on his palms. His hands looked wrong in them—too pale, too thin, like he was playing dress-up in someone else’s fantasy.
You can do this.
You’ve already decided.
You want this.
His heart knocked against his ribs. There was no going back now, right? He’d already come this far. Already confessed thingsno oneshould confess, already imagined worse. Already come apart at theideaof it.
He wanted this.
God, hehadto want this.
Out of the car, the trunk creaked open behind him.
Theo turned. The late sun flared across the back bumper, casting long shadows down the gravel lot. Noah stood there, looking more like someone’s lost frat buddy with a flat than the guy about to help him kill a person.
Killa person.
Noah lifted the floor panel: spare tire, tire iron.
Crowbar. Clean and simple. New. Gleaming like it knew Theo’s goddamn name.
“Is it still speaking to you?” Noah asked with an easy laugh.
There was a distant lawnmower buzzing somewhere, too cheerful. Kids screeched behind him, water splashing from a pool.
Theo took the crowbar in both hands. Heavy. Comforting. The weight of it grounded him.
He didn’t let himself think. Not too hard. He shoved it down the leg of his pants, handle wedged awkwardly, over-sized shirt enough cover the bulge. It chafed when he bent his knee. It wasn’t comfortable.
Noah shut the trunk with a quietthunk.
Theo stood there for a second longer, staring at the asphalt. His heart was still racing, but it didn’t feel like panic now. It was sharper than that. A buzz on his tongue. A twitch behind his eyes.
He flexed his fingers inside the gloves.
Point of no return.
Let’s fuckinggo.
The walk up the stairs was slow and sticky. Surreal as hell. Each step vibrated up Theo’s spine. The crowbar shifted against his leg, tapping bone, reminding him it was there. The gloves made his hands sweat worse.
