As Angela took the flowers—and actually
blushed
—I scoffed. “Seriously? Dude. I got knifed and you give
her
flowers? You suck.”
Dave burst out laughing. “Sorry. I didn’t think you were the flowers type.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Is too,” Greg said. He and Sanchez had come around to the other side of my bed. “We didn’t get you flowers, because we thought you’d like this better.”
He and Sanchez exchanged smiles and then Sanchez pulled a Barbie-doll sized Steve Yzerman bobble head from behind his back. They’d put a Freddie Kruger mask on him and super-glued a Swiss Army knife the size of my keychain in place of his hockey stick. They’d whited-out Yzerman on the back of the jersey and written Westley in its place with a Sharpie.
“You guys are tools,” I said. But I was hugging the treasured doll to my chest. “And this is much better than flowers. Thanks.”
As Dave was ruffling my hair and Greg was slapping me five we heard the sound of sneakers skidding to a halt on the slick hospital floor. I looked up in time to see a three-J pile up.
“What the hell is this?” Jesse asked.
“Back the freak up off our woman,” Josh ordered.
Dave, Greg, and Sanchez suddenly flanked me on both sides, creating a very distinct “us verses them” situation. Dave smirked, sitting on the edge of my bed so he could throw his arm over my shoulder. “Sorry, guys. We scammed your goods this summer,” he announced. “And we’re not giving her back without a fight.”
“What’s he talking about, Westley?” Jack asked, shooting me an accusatory glare.
I just shrugged, but Sanchez piped up: “Whaddya say, Westley?” he asked. “You wanna show these summer camp sissies what real game is?”
Now that I’m a lady—well, less crude than I was at the beginning of the summer, anyway—I will not repeat the trash talk this earned them from the J’s. Needless to say, it almost came down to a friendly schoolyard brawl and ended with a promise for the street hockey showdown of the century just as soon as I was able to play again. Well, that and a handful of nurses kicking everyone except Angela out to make room for my next set of visitors.
I was exhausted. I didn’t exactly want any more visitors, especially when those visitors were two guys whose stiff suits screamed ‘federal agents’. But then Seth shuffled in behind them.
I felt my heart skip a beat. Or two. Or three. I really hadn’t believed he’d ever speak to me again after everything I’d done to him. Everything I’d accused him of. I was happy to see that he was okay, and hated myself for the way his face was black and blue from where I’d kicked him. But mostly I felt sick at the way he wouldn’t look at me.
Seth’s eyes were glued to the floor and he hesitated at the threshold of my room. Clearly he did not want to be here. Clearly he didn’t even want to see me ever again. I felt what I think was my heart breaking, and the way my stomach started churning didn’t do much for the recovering stab wound in my gut.
I felt a reassuring squeeze on my fingers and looked over to see Angela’s hand holding mine. She smiled, but her eyes were full of concern for me.
“There’s my two heroes,” one of the suits said in a booming, jolly voice.
He was referring to Angela and me. I couldn’t help but stammer, “H—heroes?”
The guy chuckled like a lean, less-bearded Santa Clause. “The two of you stopped a serial killer last night. I’d say that’s pretty heroic.” He came to shake Angela’s hand and mine. “Frank Gambini, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It is truly a pleasure to meet you both. Especially you, Eleanor. Seth has told me so much about you.”
I glanced at Seth and he quickly jerked his head away. He’d been watching me, but he still couldn’t meet my eyes. “I—He—?”
“He was very concerned for your safety, Eleanor. He’s been working with Agent Johnson here”—he gestured to the other suit—“to try and solve the case.”
I looked closely at the tall silent guy standing next to Seth, and recognition hit me. He was the guy that met Seth in the sushi place. It wasn’t an illegal exchange after all. Seth had called in a favor to his friend, the director of the FBI, so that he could try to make me safe.
I was so flattered and grateful that Seth would go to such crazy lengths for me that I suddenly blurted, “But he did solve it!” I wanted everyone to know how amazing he was. And I especially wanted Seth to know that I knew what he’d done. “He knew before…” I couldn’t finish that sentence so I said, “He tried to tell me. I was just too thick to listen.”
Mr. Gambini raised a brow at Seth. “Is that true, Bishop?” he asked, startling Seth into raising his gaze from the floor. “You figure it out?”
Seth looked at Mr. Gambini and shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, sir. Just barely.”
“And you didn’t think to call Agent Johnson
before
these ladies were attacked?”
“I was about to, sir. But…” Seth’s eyes finally flashed to me, but he quickly looked back at Mr. Gambini. “But my girlfriend and her sister kicked my ass before I could, sir.”
Angela and I both winced. We both pretty much felt like crap about what we did to poor, innocent Seth.
Mr. Gambini didn’t seem as concerned about it. He roared with a laughter that rattled the halls. “That is quite the feat,” he said, smiling at us. “I’ve seen young Mr. Bishop take down some of my highly trained agents.”
Mr. Gambini continued to rattle on about the physical condition of Detective Pierce too, and thanked us for taking it easy on Seth, but I couldn’t really listen. Not after what Seth had just said.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I interrupted the director of the FBI—which my mother would have killed me for doing—and said to Seth, “Don’t you mean ex-girlfriend?” I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice.
Seth finally looked at me, and for once I couldn’t read his expression. There were way too many emotions painted in it to single any one out.
“Um,” I said, trying to ignore the fact that everyone in the room was now staring at me. “I assumed accusing you of being a murderer, messing up your face, and my sister nearly tasing you to death was sufficient grounds for a dumping.”
“Sorry about that, by the way,” Angela interrupted, cringing again.
“Are you saying you still
want
to be my girlfriend?”
Um, DUH
! I blushed under Seth’s gaze, regretting that I’d brought up the subject. I really wished all these people would leave.
As if reading my mind, my lovely sister smiled at Mr. Gambini and asked, “Have you guys seen the cafeteria here yet? I’m starving, and that cop from earlier said I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unescorted until my parents got here.”
Mr. Gambini’s face brightened. “Lunch sounds like a fantastic idea,” he said. “Come on, Johnson, you can help me fill Ms. Westley in on the questioning process.”
“Oh, about all that? When you get our statements and stuff, do you think you could mention that hero bit to my parents? Like, a lot?” Angela asked as they walked out the door. I heard Mr. Gambini laugh all the way to the elevator.
The room was suddenly empty, save Seth and me. It was so quiet, it was almost loud. I needed to break the silence. “Um…” Seth was staring at his feet again and hadn’t moved from his spot against the wall next to the exit. I half expected him to bolt. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry. I know that’s not going to help you hate me any less, but—”
“Hate you?” Seth gasped. “I don’t hate you.”
“That is a lie! You can’t even
look
at me anymore!”
Seth glared at me, making me feel bad for losing my temper. “Because I can’t stand to see you like that!” he yelled back, and then slunk down the wall to the floor. His voice was suddenly nothing more than a whisper. “I promised I’d keep you safe, and look at you.”
“Yes, look at me. I
am
safe,” I said, hoping the grin I gave him would be catching. It wasn’t.
“You know what I mean.”
“All right, fine. But it’s not your fault. You didn’t know how pig-headed I am when you made that promise. And besides, you did keep me safe. If you hadn’t tipped me off about Detective Pierce, things could have gone much worse. I’m the idiot that took too long to get it. I’m the idiot who fell for Pierce’s crap. I’m the idiot who thought you were capable of…” I felt my stomach churn again. “How do you not hate me?”
“I was being set up, Ellie. By a cop. And he was doing a really good job of it. I don’t blame you at all for listening to him and wanting to protect yourself. In fact, I’m proud of you.”
Wow. Are we a messed up pair or what
?
“Okay, so you don’t blame me and I don’t blame you,” I said. “How about we both stop feeling like dirt and just agree that my scars are going to be so much more impressive than that puny little thing on your chest?”
Seth was startled for moment. He finally came to my bedside with the strangest combination of sadness and joy in his eyes. “Fine. But you never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Do you still want to be my girlfriend?” His voice shook like he was scared to death of my answer. “Because I’m pretty sure you said you hated me several times last night.”
I smiled at his question, because the answer was so ridiculously obvious. This was exactly what I’d wanted for a long time now. This was my Seth—sweet, vulnerable Seth, who looked at me like I was the whole universe, as well as a tasty morsel of something he couldn’t wait to devour. He still screamed of danger, but now I didn’t have to feel guilty for being drawn to that danger.
“Yeah,” I told him. “But I also admitted to falling for you.”
Seth tried to hide his reaction from me, but he had a hard time keeping everything in. He reached into his pocket. I thought he was going for his knife, but instead he pulled out the necklace he’d tried to give me on Wednesday. “Will you keep it this time, please?”
Seth didn’t wait for an answer before he clasped the chain around my neck.
As he reached around behind me, closing the distance that had been between us, my body, I am ashamed to say, went completely haywire. My heart sped, I shivered, my breath caught… And, um, yeah, Seth was not exactly oblivious.
Seth gave me his most amused “Oh, Ellie” sigh yet, and then sat back. “So, which is it?” he asked, the smile on his face turning dangerously confident. “Do you love me or hate me?”
“I—”
Snapping my jaw shut, I narrowed my eyes as I realized he was playing with me. He was trying to get me to say it. The L word. Not just the L word, but the whole thing, complete with the “I” and the “you.”
“Fat chance, buddy.”
You’re not getting me to say ‘I love you’ that easy, even if it is true
.
Seth suppressed a smile and crossed his arms over his chest. “You are aware that I heard that, right?”
CRAP!
Acknowledgments:
My special thanks go out to all the usual suspects. To Bluefields! For your faith in me and for all the effort you put into publishing my work. To my husband, Josh, for all the love, support, and feedback. (And for ignoring my occasional dirty looks when I get said feedback.) To my older sister Robin, who thinks that she’s “Angela”, even though she’s totally not. And, last but not least, to all the Classically Challenged book ladies! Thank you for the years of support, late nights, and banning me from talking about a certain Book That Shall Not Be Named. You’re the best darn book club that ever existed!
BONUS MATERIAL
“HOUSE HUNTING”
(Seth’s first glimpse of Ellie)
This was going to be the longest summer of my life. I’d been in Michigan for exactly six hours and twenty-three minutes, and I already knew I hated it here. The air was so thick you could almost drink it, and there were too many trees. Everywhere you looked it was trees. Trees and concrete.
If the hot, humid air and trees weren’t enough to suffocate me, the thought of having to live with a bunch of uncultured, simple, Middle Americans would definitely do it. After driving all around the Detroit metro area today looking at houses, I’ve learned that these people’s idea of sports cars were either Mustangs or Camaros, and fine dining equaled Applebees and Outback Steakhouse. I’d never see a decent California Roll again.
And would it kill them to listen to something other than hip-hop?
Just as we were passing yet another dilapidated strip mall, we turned into a neighborhood called Brookhurst. “I know you’re just going to love this one,” the real estate lady cried from the front seat. “This neighborhood in particular has so much character!”
“What do you think Seth?” My Aunt Janice said, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
One word came to mind. Hell. Technically, the map said Hell was about an hour Northwest of here, but still. This was close enough. Of course, I couldn’t exactly say that to my aunt. I was the one who picked this crap city. Seriously, what was I thinking?