Page 62 of The Rowdy Ones
“It’s me, psycho,” Wild says to Scout when he enters the RV. “Don’t eat me, fucker.”
Scout’s barks turn to happy yelps.
“Hey,” Rowdy calls out.
“What does your sweater say?” Wild asks Scout. “Stay still.” Then he bursts out laughing. “No fucking way. Mindyourbusiness.”
“What?” Rowdy demands, sliding out of the bed and walking toward the front of the RV. “People need to know.”
“Your,” Wild says, cackling. “You spelled it wrong.”
“Y-O-U-R-E. I put the apostrophe in there and everything.”
“Wrong!”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t whatever me. You always do them backward in text too. Who taught you to read? My mom?”
Rowdy must punch him because Wild grunts in pain. “Fuck off, Wild.”
I’m amused at their antics. Sliding off the bed, I make my way over to them, hoping I don’t look guilty for whatever that was between me and Rowdy.
What was it?
One thing’s for certain: it feels like fire when we have those moments. It’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. Jace tried to create fire when I was nothing but an icy tundra. Weston creates sparks, but the chill is still there.
Rowdy makes me burn.
This is bad. He’s my brother.
“I should get back to the cabin,” I say quickly. “I need to get up early tomorrow.”
I can feel Rowdy’s gaze burning into me. Despite wanting to throw myself into his arms, I manage to give him a wave instead.
The trek to the house is quick thanks to my cane and Scout, and soon I’m out of my coat and boots, sprawled out on top of the covers on my bed where I belong. I even call back Weston, hoping to distract myself with something normal. He’s funny and keeps me entertained.
“Something’s off,” Weston says after a good hour of chatting. “You’re distracted.”
Guilt swarms through me like a bunch of angry bees.
“What? No, just thinking about the training Scout will need. Sorry. I’ll do better.”
We talk another hour longer, but I feign sleepiness to get off the phone with him.
It’s then I get a weird feeling. Scout growls and hops off the bed. I hear his claws on the wood floors as he makes his way over to the window. Then he whines. I cock my head to the side, listening to see if the window opens, but nothing happens.
I’m definitely being watched, though.
And since Scout isn’t freaking out, it has to be Rowdy.
Why is he watching me? What is he expecting to see?
I pretend I don’t know he’s there and walk over to Scout to pet him. Then decide I’ll change into my pajamas now.
Yes.
Right now.
