I scramble onto my knees. “Make me get it.”
“When the abduction happened, I knew it was a terrible story in a vague way, because you and Liv went to Shiverton, and we were in the same grade, and the dude was from Shiverton, which was scary. It kept my father from coming home at night, and that sucked, but it wasn’t the first case that’s consumed him. Still, I didn’t get what the big deal was until my father explained to me that you weren’t an ordinary girl. You threw yourself in front of danger to save your friend’s life. Then you outwitted the guy, came back, and got him arrested. Dad called you the bravest human being he’d ever met.”
I hold my hand on my belly, like there’s something there I need to protect, something the woods created that I don’t want to let go. Not yet.
“I fell for you without knowing you. And then, when I finally talked to you, I found out you were sarcastic and funny, and dark and dry. Tough. Not just physically, but your mind, too. It’s like this terrifying, shiny thing that can take anyone down. I told my father Donald Jessup never stood a chance.”
I start to smile, but the sadness in his eyes makes me stop.
“And now, it’s like you’re an instrument of the enemy. I have to ask myself: Were you playing me?” he says.
My stomach drops. “I wasn’t playing you. Not ever.”
“Five minutes ago, you said the police let Donald Jessup slip through the cracks. That sounds vengeful to me.”
“The reason I’m working with Paula has nothing to do with vengeance.” I hold my head in my hands. “Donald Jessup and Liv are connected, but I can’t prove how. Is that enough to make you understand?”
“So this is all about Liv.”
“Actually, yes.”
He takes my chin in his hand. “I can’t share your heart with Liv. Half of Julia isn’t enough for me.” He rises, throwing out his hands, and paces. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day I grabbed your waist and threw you in my car. I’m insane about you. The crap you say. The way you look at the world. The fact that you’re utterly unafraid of anything. Being with you is like injecting this rush that makes me feel alive. When I’m not with you, you’re all I want. I can barely breathe.”
I want to take his jaw in my hand and drag his mouth to mine, consume him whole, I ache for his mouth on mine so much, and what the heck, what difference does it make? I don’t care if he throws me off of him, tells me to go to hell, that I’m a father-wrecking, home-wrecking career-wrecker. I’ve had worse.
He is far away now, far enough away that he might leave. He calls to me.
“In the woods, when you said ‘come with me’? You meant to the place where Ana Alvarez died, but in my mind, you were asking me to fall for you. And it was already too late. I was all in.” He turns and walks toward the alley.
I leap up and run toward him. He spins around just before I tackle him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him toward me. His lips are cool and the tops of his cheeks feel wet, and he holds back at first, the muscles in his chest and shoulders unyielding, and I let go a little, but then he comes in fast, and I fall to my knees and then the ground, and he crawls on top of me.
“In case you were wondering, this is not one of those surreal moments,” Kellan says.
“So no audience?” I say, breathless.
“No audience. But we can pretend, if you’re into that.” He nuzzles my neck, and the vibration is delicious.
Long, scraping noises. A bright beam swoops and bobbles over us like a spastic searchlight. Kellan follows my stare toward the source, a half-pipe over the ridge of the bowl.
“Kids on skateboards wearing headlamps,” Kellan says.
“So we are being punked,” I say. “This is probably not the best idea.”
“The idea is excellent. It’s the execution,” he says. “Next time, indoors.”
I laugh. He rolls to his side, and the loss of his warmth and weight feels like it might kill me. I peel myself from the ground and brush off, every inch of my body screaming, the air around us throbbing with frustration. He pulls me to his chest and holds me there for a second, the two of us standing in the middle of a big empty cement bowl against a psychedelic backdrop of light beams swooping and dancing as if to music.
He tips my chin to see him, a trick appealing to us tall girls, I expect. His eyes are soft and sad. “Seeing Yvonne Jessup wasn’t safe. She could have been as sick as her monster son. She could’ve hurt you.”
“I brought Alice.”
“Of course. The famous Alice. I’m starting to think Alice is your imaginary friend.”