Page 6 of Biker Boo
“Why do you do that?”I whisper.
“Do what?”
“Look at me like that.Like I’m something that’ll keep you warm, not something that will scorch you.”
Royal’s smile fades.“’Cause I know the difference.”
I close my eyes.Lean my head back against the brick wall.“I hate her.”
“No, you don’t.Bet you don’t even know her name.”
“Hannah… Okay, fine.I hate Legend.”
“That’s more like it.”
Royal’s so close I can smell him, pine and musty book pages.It makes my throat tight.Makes me want to lean in and let him tell me more lies just to make the pain stop.
But I don’t. I can’t.Never.“You should go,” I whisper.
He tilts his head.“You sure?”
“Yeah.I don’t need a shoulder to cry on.I need a damn lobotomy.”
Royal chuckles under his breath.But then, his voice turns real quiet.“You ever wonder if he’d love you more if you were broken in a different way?”
That gets me.Right in the ribs.
I stare at him.“Every damn day.”
He reaches out like he’s gonna touch me, my face, my hair, I don’t know.But I flinch before he can.
And he pulls back.
The hurt in his dark eyes is soft.Barely there.But I see it.
“Goodnight, Royal,” I say.
And somehow, he understands that’s all I can give him.
A cold shiver dances down my spine as I’m pulled from the memory.
Something’s out there again.Someone.
I pause the movie.The TV casts flickering shadows across the trailer walls, blood-red and bone-white light from the horror movie menu bouncing off the cracked linoleum.I rise to my feet slowly, bare toes curling on the cold floor.I creep toward the tiny kitchen window and peek through the yellowed blinds.
The woods press in just past the edge of the yard, trees black and gnarled like claws.And there, just beyond the rusted fire barrel and the clothesline swinging in the breeze, I see it.
The shape.
A man.
Still.Watching.
Heart slamming, I suck in a breath and squeeze the blinds shut.
It’s Halloween time in Hell, Kentucky.The one night crazy feels normal.
Maybe it’s a trick.Maybe the club is fucking with me.
