"Evan? I'm gonna get lost, alright?"
I run my finger along the smooth curve of her shoulder one last time, for luck.
"You're leaving?" Her blue eyes are perfectly still and focused on mine. Fury makes them look hot and clear. "I get that you might not like hearing the truth, but that's it? That's all you can take?"
"Wait. I thought...you said...the whole thing with Remy? The tattoo? Wasn't that, like, an invitation for me to fuck off?"
A dangerous edge of hope juts against my brain. One word pulses through my mind: maybe.
"I said your stupid brother seemed to be messing things up for you. If I wanted you to fuck off, I would have said, 'Fuck off, Winch.'"
Her smile is probably a little forced, but mine sure as hell isn't. Here's the chance I was praying for. I held my breath and rolled the dice, and my luck stayed; I came up with an eleven first go.
"What are you smiling about?" she asks.
I tuck her into my arms and rub my face in the soft mass of her hair. "You. Me. That big old bed and your grandparents all the way in South Carolina."
She sits back on the mattress, and I sit with her. She leans back and I follow. Now that we've said enough sour truths for one day, we give ourselves a break and put our mouths to much better use. Her lips are quick and eager, and I'm so tempted a dozen different times to follow her lead like some poor sailor chasing a siren's call right into the jagged ocean rocks.
But I can't.
This deserves taking our time, so, tonight, it's all about her.
She's attempting to wiggle out of her clothes for the third time when my phone rings. I crush my teeth together so tight my jaw aches.
She catches her sigh and staples it back.
"Go ahead. It's been the ruin of many a fantastic makeout session," she mutters, thumping a pillow over her face so she can muffle the line of obscenities I can still hear.
I zip my pants back up and walk to the balcony, figuring I can go back in for my shirt and shoes if I need to leave. I really hope to hell I don't need to leave.
"This is Winchester."
The bugs make a wild buzz in the dark garden below and the moon is low and more than half full with a yellow tinge. I want to go back in, switch off Evan's light, and not face whatever it is that needs my attention on the other end of the line.
"Win'hester," Remy slurs.
"Where are you?"
I should be putting my shirt back on. I should have my feet in my shoes and be jumping down the balcony to find him, now, before he breaks more unfixable shit.
A low, keening whine breaks over the phone line, leaving me half deaf.
"Phine!" he screams. "Phine, I know you're there!"
I hear what sounds like my idiot fucking brother stumbling over garbage cans, doors opening and slamming shut, and yelling.
I click the phone off and grab my shirt and shoes. Evan is shaking her head. I have no time, but I stop anyway.
"I'm so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. He's at his ex's house right now. I don't want her and my niece to get caught in this." I take her hands and she nods at me.
"Can I come?"
I shake my head. "You don't need to see this. It's gonna get ugly."
"Sometime can I come with you when the phone rings?" She chews on her bottom lip. "Or is the phone like your personal Bat Signal? Do you fight this fight alone?" She pulls her voice low and throaty.
It's not a time for jokes, but that doesn't stop me from laughing.
"Your Dark Knight impression is damn sexy." I kiss her, and the minute our lips brush, I want more. "Wow. Yeah. This fucking blows. Can I make it up to you?"
"Breakfast tomorrow?" She raises her eyebrows eagerly.
Shit. "Can't." I finish tying my shoes and kiss her again. She's intoxicating. "I have mass."
"I'll come," she offers, and I immediately imagine her in the old church where my entire family and Lala's goes for hours every Sunday, and I panic.
"No! I mean, it's so boring. And the service is in Hungarian. I do it for my mom, you know?" I can see she's trying to hide how my string of stupid rejections is crushing her by playing it tough. "Can I get you for a late breakfast? Just you and me."
"And the phone?" She crosses her arms.
I hesitate. "I can't really turn it off, but--"
"Promise you'll take me if it rings," she cuts in.
Her blue eyes narrow when I open my mouth to turn her down one more time.
I can't.
I'm swimming with a laceration in shark-infested waters.
No reason to panic. I can manage this. I've managed way bigger shit than this. I'll just have to make sure my goddamn phone doesn't ring.
"Okay. It's a deal."
I lean in and kiss her one more time, trying to trap the sweet, hot smell and feel of her that's already getting addictive, and I have to go. I rip myself away, run to the balcony, and jump down the way I came, landing hard on my feet. I scale the wall fast, and take one second to glance back in the yellow-mooned night.
She's standing on the balcony, leaning on her elbows, long, dark hair falling over her shoulders, her skin bright in the moonlight, and the pang of my regret is knee-weakening.
Maybe I really won't have to worry about my fucking phone tomorrow. Because there's a damn good chance I'll wind up beating Remy to a bloody, unconscious pulp tonight.
Evan 8
"And then?" Brenna's like a little
