“You have major control issues, you know that?” The words were harsh, but his tone was gentle. Not quite worthy of an F, but close. A D-minus at best.
“Fine,” she admitted, flicking her hair back over her shoulder and watching as his eyes followed the fiery strands. “I like being in control. Can I drive or not?”
He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, considering. “Okay.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and spun them around his finger. “You can drive. But you had better be careful,” he warned, patting the dashboard.
She plucked the keys from his hand. “Don’t worry. I know how pissed you’d be if I put a scratch on your baby.”
He grabbed her hand, curling his fingers around hers so that the sharp metal teeth of the key pressed against her skin.
“Keira.” The bravado was gone from his voice. “I’m not worried about the car. I’m worried about you. It’s my job to worry about you, to keep you safe. None of what’s happened—what’s going to happen—is me trying to be a jerk.” He slid his hand up her arm and it was like flint against steel. Just like that, she was on fire.
“Safe from what?” She pulled her arm away, but it was too late. The flames had already spread. Everywhere.
Walker shook his head. “Let’s get where we’re going first. I actually don’t want you to wreck the car when I tell you.”
Normally, Keira would have rolled her eyes at that sort of drama, but something in his voice stopped her.
“It’s really that bad?” she asked in a small voice.
He didn’t respond, but she saw his jaw clench.
“Well. Let’s go, then,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
Keira climbed into the driver’s side, sliding the seat forward and adjusting the mirrors while Walker folded himself into the passenger seat. She snuck a glance at him. He was pretending to be relaxed, but he kept pressing on an imaginary brake with his right foot.
Keira’d been to the little park so many times that the turns came as naturally as breathing. She wished she’d been able to calm down enough to enjoy driving his car. Instead, by the time they got to the playground, her shoulders were bunched up around her ears. She pulled into the quiet parking lot and shut off the car.
A few tendrils of mist curled around the slides and swings. The park was deserted, but the bleak weather made it look lonely, too.
She turned to give Walker the keys, but he didn’t notice her outstretched hand. He stared out the windshield, his fingers curled tightly around the door handle.
“Here?” He looked over, his eyes searching hers. “Why here?”
Keira shrugged. “It was my favorite park when I was a kid. I always felt safe here. Happy.”
“Damn,” he whispered. “It started that early.”
“What started that early?”
He jerked his head at the playground. “C’mon. Let’s go find somewhere to sit.”
The two of them wandered between the metal cages of the equipment, heading for the merry-go-round. Walker sat down and patted the space beside him. There was enough room for her, but it seemed like it might be smarter to put one of the metal bars between them.
Wind whipped through the park, making the swings creak on their chains.
Screw it.
She squeezed in next to him, glad for the warmth. Still. Whatever came next was going to hurt. She could tell.
“Okay,” she said. “Enough waltzing around. Talk.”
Walker reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. “I’m trying. It’s hard to know where to start.”
Keira stared down at their linked fingers. A strand of darkness, thin as a thread, trailed down Walker’s wrist. As she watched, it swirled across the back of his hand, like it was reaching for her.
Keira had spent hours staring at the backs of her hands. She’d watched her fingers move over piano keys and checked her wrists to make sure that they were in the proper position above the piano. She knew the pattern of the veins beneath her translucent skin, every tiny crease in her knuckles.
In one instant, that all changed. She watched a coal-colored ribbon unfurl beneath the base of her thumb. It stretched and spread until it touched the marks on the back of Walker’s hand and nestled there comfortably, her own darkness rubbing up against Walker’s.
“Can you see that?” Her voice shook. She didn’t look up. “That dark stuff on our hands?”
“I see lots of stuff that other people don’t notice,” he said.
Keira tugged her hand out of his and stood up, turning to face him.
“What kind of stuff?” she demanded. “Like dark marks on your skin that come and go? Trees growing in my living room? What about the door in the middle of the road, when you drove me home after the accident? Did you see that stuff?” Saying the words was like walking to the very edge of the high dive. She’d left herself exposed. Vulnerable. One push and she’d fall. She wrapped her arms around herself, her marked hands curled into fists.