35
CLAIRE
It's been days since we found Jared and Steve shot in that alley, and Johnny is still acting strange. He's on edge. And I can't say I blame him. Two of his coworkers—do you call fellow criminal errand boys that?—were killed in a staged murder scene in very close proximity to where we live, where we hang out, and where Johnny was beaten only a couple weeks prior.
It's traumatic, to say the least. I wish I knew how to help him process what he's going through.
He’s been attending his classes, but I have a hunch that’s only so he can keep an eye on me and make sure I’m safe. He’s barely left my side except for when it’s absolutely necessary. He even stays at the diner during my shifts and studies in the corner booth.
Bram had tried to give me some time off, but I insisted I’d rather get back to some kind of normalcy.
If I’m being completely honest, I felt slightly relieved seeing the two people who did what they did to Johnny bleeding out in that nasty alley. I can’t speak for Steve, but Jared was no gift to humanity. After the run-ins I had with him, watching him die didn’t faze me the way everyone acts like it should. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but it’s hard to feel sorry for someone who thought my body was for his personal enjoyment.
I round the corner to the hallway and pop my head into Johnny’s bedroom. “You want some coffee?”
He quickly grabs the lid to the box he’s looking through and shoves it on top. “I—uh…yeah. That sounds good.”
I grip the doorframe and narrow my gaze. “J. What’s up?”
“Nothing.” He picks the plain cardboard container off his mattress and pushes it under the bed with his foot.
I want to press, to ask him what he was doing, but he’s been in a funk lately, and I don’t want to make it any worse by prying.
I can’t help but notice the distance forming between us that I would do anything to get rid of.
Johnny walks over, kisses my cheek, and pulls me toward the kitchen.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket.
Rosie:Hey! I’m back, bitch!
My East Coast bestie had been on an impromptu writing retreat, and I only managed to find that out when I called her mom when I hadn’t heard from her. I tried getting ahold of her after the whole Griffin debacle, but she had already left with her writing class. I’m glad she went, I really am. Had I still been back home, I would have been on the same trip with her, living a semi-normal-ish life.
“Call her,” Johnny says. “I’ll go grab us lunch.”
“You sure?” I study his expression fanatically, looking for any sign of disapproval.
“Yeah. I could use the fresh air.”
Does he mean from me?
I glance at the time on my phone and back up at him. "Please be careful."
Johnny strolls over, and it’s like everything else fades away and it’s just us. He glides his thumb along my cheek. “Always.” He presses his soft lips against mine briefly and snatches his wallet and keys from the counter.
The door closes and I’m left alone in his place. I shift my attention toward his room, and the strong urge to look under his bed creeps over me. But if he wanted me to know what was in there, he would have told me, and I refuse to invade his privacy just because of sheer curiosity.
I shake away the thought and focus on what I had planned on doing.
I bring up the text screen.
Me:About damn time! Call me!
But instead of a regular call, she FaceTimes me.
I answer it anyway.
Her beaming and beautiful face greets me on the other side. Rosie’s blonde hair bobs and her eyeliner is done in a perfect cat’s eye. “I missed you,” she feigns sadness.