Page 117 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

pockets while he casually crosses his ankles over one another. His

shoulder digs into the doorframe, and the hallway offers perfectly

placed backlighting to marvel such a man. “Leah, did you hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just… My mind is wandering a lot tonight. It’s late,

that’s all. I wasn’t expecting you’d still be awake.”

“I was hoping you would come downstairs, but you didn’t come. So I

just wanted to check in on you.”

I bow my head in thanks. “Oh, sorry. I was just going to lay in bed.

The shower water got cold, and I got uncomfortable sitting on the

floor.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t very comfortable at all, and I was only on the floor

for maybe ten minutes.”

I nod slowly, recalling how much he tried to throw me a life preserver

when I needed to drown.

“Come downstairs. I made something to eat,” he adds, waving me

forward.

I brush my hands down my face, wincing while the little pieces of

glass in my skin peak with pain. I try to hold back on letting it show,

but Percy hardly seems surprised, waving me over until I’m tucked

comfortably into his side. His arm wraps over my shoulders and

leads me down the stairs to the kitchen.

I’m wearing a long tee shirt as pajamas with a pair of loose shorts, so

the warm fire in the fireplace brings chills to my skin I’m certain he

can feel.

I want to go curl up on the couch with a blanket, my bare feet weary

of the wood floors that hold all the glass I threw earlier. But when we

get to the kitchen, all the glass is gone. The mess has entirely been

cleaned up, and the whole house looks new.

Even the pile of mail has been cut down and put away on the desk in

the living room.

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