I give her a subtle nod.
She frowns and squeezes her eyes shut. “Okay. Alec, tell Mom and Dad you dropped me off at Blair’s for the weekend.”
“What? Why?” Alec is out of our loop. “They’d lecture you about your lunatic driving, but as long as you’re not hurt they won’t be too hard on you.” A foreboding flash of jealousy crosses his face. “Besides, they never yell at you anymore.”
Interesting. Maybe that’s why he first went along with us hounding Gemma. If I had a sister, I’m pretty sure I’d die for her before I let guys harass her the way the ones at Silver Lake High have.
“Just do it! Cover for me and I’ll owe you one.”
Alec pins Gemma with a suspicious look. He flicks it over to me. “If you hurt my sister, you’re dead. You know that, right?”
I almost snort. Gemma has enough fire in her to crush my balls before Alec gets wind of anything. I’d never hurt her, anyway. At least not in any way she doesn’t ask me to.
Gemma rolls her eyes and pushes him to the steps that lead down to the open yard.
“Okay, Mr. Misplaced Chivalry. Quit going through the motions and get out of here.”
She leans in and mutters something to him I don’t hear.
After Alec drives away, Gemma turns around. I pat my lap and she passes me to collapse into the other Adirondack chair.
“Give me more pizza.” She fiddles with the hoodie strings and shifts in the seat. The sun reflects off the water below and paints her in golden hues. “I can’t believe you. This feels like entrapment.”
“You chose it.”
“Only because you threatened to break into my window to kidnap me again, like the psycho monster you are.”
“Critical damage.” I hold a hand over my chest and pretend to die.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re like a final boss. You never stay down.”
We trade lighthearted bickering as the sun dips lower.
For the next two days, Gemma is mine.
* * *
We stay up late.
I haven’t allowed her out of my sight all day, even when she went down to sit on the end of the dock to take photos after we finished the pizza. Lancelot follows her, leaning against her side.
I’ve been gradually chipping away at her wariness all night until she allows me to touch her freely. She let me check her scraped palms to apply more ointment. They’re looking good, the redness fading with the healing abrasions. The bruises dotting her body will take more time, some of them an angry purple with yellow edges. There are finger shaped ones from where I grabbed her.
I made her late night pancakes. It’s one of the few things I know how to cook. She sat on the count
er with her legs dangling, kicking to the Spotify playlist I turned on in the background. My demanding little spitfire claimed every tiny pancake made from extra batter splattering in the pan when I poured. I slid between her open knees and fed her, teasing my fingers past her lips as I held eye contact.
She looked cute as hell perched on the countertop, wearing my hoodie, her honey-colored hair up in a messy bun. Blushing because she licked my fingers clean as I offered her baby pancakes.
A sense of rightness settles in my chest having her here. Like something’s clicked into place that was missing.
It’s past midnight now. We retreated to my bedroom after I chased her around the house, grinning at her protests followed by the gleam in her eye right before she darted out of reach. She liked the game as much as I did. She likes it when I hunt her down. I won when I picked her up and tossed her over my shoulder. She shrieked when I smacked her ass as I carted her to the stairs.
Gemma hasn’t said anything about the sleeping situation. If she tries to argue about spending another night in my bed, she’ll find herself tied to the bed posts with my school tie.
The mental image pulls heat into my groin. God, I love tying her up. It’s the face she gives me, the stubborn jut of her chin.
After I set her down, I collapse on the floor in front of my TV and turn on the game system. She pads across the room barefoot and I snag her wrist to drag her into my lap.