Instead of letting him pull her toward him, she did the opposite, pulling her arm toward herself and dragging him closer. She took his hand under the water and pressed his fingers to her belly. She didn’t say anything, just kept kicking and looking at the sky. The little bump under his hand was harder than he expected it to be.
Then she tipped upright and suddenly they were face-to-face, skin-to-skin, in the water. He could feel the goose bumps trailing up her waist.
He sucked his breath. “Evie, what—”
She put her mouth on his, cold and wet and tasting of beer. Her breasts pressed against him, and blood-warmth flooded his groin—he couldn’t help it. He gripped her slippery body, their legs kicking together.
“Evie,” he said, pulling back. “Seriously. This is crazy. Let’s at least get out of the water.”
Her laugh was like a purr. It was like Sunny’s laugh. Did all girls laugh like that? He tugged her gently, and she swam at his side without protest. At the shore, he saw she still had the empty can in her hand. She tipped the water out of it.
They grabbed their clothes from the sand and walked back up to the blanket, then just stood there, not touching, not talking. He had no idea what time it was. Alex and Sunny could arrive any minute, find them soaking wet and nearly naked—and then what? He bent and pulled his jeans on, yanking them over wet skin. She just stood there with her clothes in her hands, shivering.
He looked at her, groin twingeing. What the hell was that kiss? It still lingered on his lips when he licked them. She was so strange. Nothing like Sunny. The opposite of Sunny. She was small and soft-edged, and all her cards were covered up. And she was Shaun’s, still.
He let his breath out at last. “Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked quietly. He swallowed. Swallowed again. Praying she wouldn’t say yes. But she didn’t say anything at all.
He stood frozen for another long second, then bent to the blanket, grabbing his phone as he gathered it all up. With one hand, he quickly typed Lake sucks. Ghosting.
He slid the phone into his back pocket and reached for her hand. “I’ll take you home,” he said.
The Buick coughed to a stop along the wooded track between the lake and the highway. Fuck. Gas. He’d forgotten about the gas. “Goddamn it, Sunny,” he muttered.
He looked at Evie, bundled in the blanket next to him with her feet up on the seat, still not dressed, still not saying anything.
“Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded.
He looked out the windshield to the dark, lit up by headlights. The battery wouldn’t last long. He killed the lights.
“I might have to walk somewhere for gas,” he said. “Or call someone.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let me get warm, and I’ll come with you.” He sat back and gripped the wheel in both hands. His phone vibrated in his back pocket, and he leaned to pull it out. Two words: Screw you. He tsked his tongue and threw the phone on the dash without replying.
He stared out at the darkness again, no lights at all.
He cleared his throat. Then he said, “I’ll tell you a secret.” She made no sound, didn’t move. “I had an uncle. A great-uncle, like from a hundred years ago. And he…he was a cannibal.”
He heard her shift under the blanket. She poked her head out to look at him, eyes big in the black.
He looked at his thumbs, resting at six o’clock on the wheel. “Uncle Chuck. Black Chuck, they called him, after. He was a trapper, way up north. This was seriously last century or something. Anyway, one really bad winter the Windigo got hold of him, and he ate his own daughter.”
“Windigo?” she asked.
He took a deep breath. “It’s like a demon,” he said. “A suffering demon. Fills you with a hunger you can’t satisfy. Makes you go crazy for human flesh.”
“Seriously?” she said. “I thought you were Catholic.”
“And Ojibwe.” He laughed, looking at her.
“So you believe in God and demons?”
“Most Catholics do, Ev. Anyway, it’s a true story. You don’t have to believe it, but that’s my secret.” He shrugged.
She freed herself from the blanket and sat up. “I like it,” she said. “Thanks.”
He glanced at her. She was still almost naked but no longer shivering, and that squirrelly feeling returned to his belly, his legs. It made his hands tingle. He almost wanted to get out and run, but instead he let her slide across the front seat and put her mouth on his again. This time it was warm.
He reached for her, her ribs in his hands, muscle and bone sliding under the skin. She lifted herself, and he moved from under the steering wheel, pulling her to his lap, heart beating a million miles a minute.
She pushed him back against the seat, arching against him in her underwear, still damp from the lake.
And he was wrecked.
“Evie—” he whispered, shaking.
“Shhhh,” she said into his mouth. “I am a suffering demon, making you crazy for flesh.”
She leaned, pressing into him, and she was right.
E
Evie thought of Shaun. She thought of his long bright hair curtaining around her, getting in her mouth. She thought of his low laugh, his murmur against her neck, the sweet things he’d say. The dirty things.
She thought of his shoulders working, flexing, pressing into her.
His golden skin.
Evie was crying before she knew she was.
“Hey,” Réal said, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Hey, hey.” Dark eyes catching her.
She took a shaky breath, pushing back against the dash.
“We can stop if you want,” Ré said gently.
“No,” she said. “I just need to cry.”
He half laughed. “Okay,” he said, “that’s cool, I guess.”
His fingers traced her throat and moved down her skin to her hips, making her shiver again.
What the hell are we doing? she thought. “This is
