The Problem with Forever

I lowered the doll. If Mr. Henry was gone, then it was okay. Uncurling, I pushed onto my knees and crawled forward. The moment I reached the door, Rider grasped my free hand. He pulled me onto my feet. I looked up and saw his face. His lip was split and turning an angry red. Fresh cut. Mr. Henry’s fists. I’d hidden while Rider distracted him.

“You’re safe now,” Rider said. “I’m here. You’re safe, Mouse. And I know you might not believe it, but I’m going to keep you safe forever.” He swallowed and swiped at his lip. “That’s a promise.”

Forever.

He’d promised he’d be there for me for forever.

But I was of the mind that there were two types of forever.

The good kind.

The bad kind.

I’d learned early on that the good kind of forever was, well, it was a lie. That kind of forever literally and figuratively ended in flames, because no matter how tightly you tried to hold on, that kind of forever slipped between the fingers.

The bad kind of forever lingered like a shadow or ghost. No matter what. It stayed, always in the background.

Closing my eyes, I focused on breathing past the burn. I couldn’t think about that right now. Tears clogged my throat, but I knew I wouldn’t cry. I hadn’t cried since I left that house.

Holy crap, I seriously hadn’t cried since that night. Realizing that just now left me feeling like there was a pit of snakes in my stomach. It wasn’t like my tear ducts were defective. My head was stuck. Everything was stuck. And I had to get...unstuck.

Starting with tonight.

I took the time to do just that on the way over to Ainsley’s. She lived in Otterbein, in one of the historic row homes pretty close to the Inner Harbor. I had no idea what houses went for in this area, but I knew they had to cost a pretty penny.

“You can sit...up front,” I said when she climbed in the back. She looked amazing, as always, wearing tight black jeans and a loose blouse that slid off one shoulder.

“That seat is reserved for Mr. Hotness Incorporated,” she replied, buckling herself in and then leaning forward to grab the back of my seat. “Plus, I kind of like being driven around while I sit in the backseat. You’re like my chauffeur.”

I snorted. “In...a decade-old Civic.”

“Whatever.” She smacked the seat. “I’ve gotta admit. I’m still surprised that Carl and Rosa were down for this.”

“Me, too,” I admitted. Before I left, they went over the ground rules once more. Carl still didn’t look like he was a hundred percent behind this.

Traffic was a pain, so it took a bit to pick up Rider, and when he climbed into the passenger seat, he sent a grin in Ainsley’s direction and then leaned over, kissing my cheek.

“Mouse.” He pulled back, his gaze moving over me, and even though I was sitting, I had the feeling he was seeing everything. “You look beautiful.”

I flushed.

“Do you know anyone like you that I can steal?” Ainsley asked, and I fought a grin. I was guessing things were not looking good for Todd.

Rider twisted in the seat as I pulled away from the curb. “Yeah, I do. His name is Hector.”

My lips curved up.

“Hector? What? He’s a jerk,” she replied, sitting back. There was a pause. “Is he going to be at this party?”

This time I didn’t fight the grin.

“Nah, he’s got to work tonight.” Rider flipped back around and reached over to me, running his finger along the curve of the arm closest to him. “You really do look beautiful.”

My grin spread into a smile. “You look great, too.”

“In other words, she says you look freaking hot,” Ainsley added from the back.

And that was true. It was always true, but tonight Rider looked especially hot with the dark denim and worn white button-down shirt. I don’t know what it was about the shirt that I liked so much. Maybe it was because the material was so thin that I imagined if he held me, I could feel his body heat. Or maybe it was the way he had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing dusky-skinned, powerful forearms.

Or maybe it was just him.

Probably just him.

Peter’s party was being held at his grandparents’ house since they’d left for Florida in September. The house was in the opposite direction of the Rivases’, on the outskirts of the city, where there were larger homes with yards. Keira had explained that Peter’s older brother would be there as unofficial chaperone, but he was twenty-one, so he wasn’t an adult-adult.

“Wow,” Ainsley murmured as the narrow, heavily tree-lined road cleared and the house came into view.

The house was really a farm—a big old farmhouse, and there were cars everywhere, parked in haphazard lines. My stomach twisted as I took in the sea of vehicles and the people milling around the side of the white-and-red farmhouse.

This...this was a lot of people.

“Probably smart to park back here,” Rider advised. “Alongside the road and keep some distance behind this car. You know, in case someone pulls...”