I easemy Mustang back onto Red Row after driving aimlessly for far too long.
It’s much later. Noah was discharged from the hospital, and the other guys brought him home.
The sky is inky black with a thin layer of fog at the base of the world, spring’s humidity sinking into a misty chill. The streets around campus are already starting to thin out, now, after everyone has already headed home from parties.
I check the clock and see that it’s nearly four in the morning.
The moment Noah was released from the hospital and we all left, I headed straight for my car, hoping I could avoid running into Kieran for the rest of the night. I told Weston to call me the moment Noah goes to sleep, but I haven’t heard a thing.
I’ve been driving ever since, not knowing where I’m going at all.
Numb.
Unfeeling.
Or maybe feeling so fucking much that I can’t even let myself stop and think about it, or I’ll feel trapped, caged, stuck like I was for months before this.
My foot barely hits the gas pedal as I drive down Red Row, letting gravity do most of the work. The front of Onyx House is dark as I drive past it, with only the front lanterns still glowing.
I used to love nights like this.
Me and the purr of my car’s engine, still awake while the rest of the world wasn’t.
I can’t even remember how that used to feel.
My heart twists as I approach the Double Daggers house. I can see even from the outside that the light is still on in the front room downstairs, as well as in Kieran’s window upstairs.
But that slips from my notice completely when I see a crouched figure at the edge of the parking lot.
As my headlights hit the side of the house, he looks up.
Wes is sitting there.
Stooped at the bottom of the side staircase in our front lawn.
He reaches up to give me a feeble wave. He’s in his fuzzy hoodie now, and he looks at me with a weary expression, my headlights bright on his face.
And the grip on my heart seems to slowly unclench, just a little, for the first time all night.
21
Weston
“You’re here,” Sev says, trying and failing to keep the surprise from his face as he rolls down his driver’s side window.
I stand up, nodding at him. “I am.”
He swallows. He’s still wearing his fancy suit, and he looks like an off-duty model, one hand draped over the steering wheel, exhausted but so deeply handsome it makes my chest ache.
I’ve started to love every part of his face. The faint scars. The way his lashes frame the edges of his eyes.
The way he looks at me, now.
The way he’s been looking at me ever since our first night together.
“Tell me you’re okay, Weston.”
I pull in a slow breath of the sweet air with a faint scent of gasoline from his car. “Why don’t you take me for a drive and I’ll tell you how I feel?”