Page 97 of Himbo Hitman
Tommy laughs again, but I’m not so sure I find it funny. I like making people happy, but just once, it might be nice to beinon the joke instead ofbeingthe joke.
It’s nice to have dreams, I guess.
My gaze finds St. Clare again, standing on the other side of thelawn, closer to the house, and the second our eyes meet, he wrenches his away again. As much as I love that everyone showed up for me, I wish they’d hurry up and get moving so that I can ask him what’s wrong. Moody St. Clare isn’t a version of him that I’m used to.
He needs that spark of his back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ST. CLARE
The whole timePerry’s being tended to, the rest of us stand in a ring around him, watching every second. Sure, part of it is concern about him being a person, and he’s a person in pain, but it’s more than that. We all know he’ll be okay. There’s no reason to watch on.
But when it comes to Perry, he’s like this gravitational force, and we’re all floaty chunks of rock, stuck in his orbit.
Even me.
All I want right now is to disappear into the house and wait for everyone to leave, but my feet are planted on the ground, turned toward him, and I hate how much I’m tuned in to every grunt of pain.
So is Arlie.
If I’m not watching Perry, I’m glaring her way. There’s a bond between the two of them where she pretends not to be interested, and he watches her through big, puppy dog eyes. It’s sickening. No one is buying her disinterest because who the hell couldn’t be interested in Perry?
It takes way too long for them to clean him up, show us where everything is in the cabin, and then get the rundown on what happened since he left Lethal Poison.
I’m not at all surprised when Perry tells us he wanted to checkin on Walter, and the fact it could have gotten him killed sits heavy with me. What if that bullet got his chest instead? We’ve both come way too close to dying lately, and I get the feeling that luck isn’t something we can keep relying on.
They leave in a car much nicer than Perry’s—no number plate draws my attention—and when they disappear and the silence kicks in, I’m conscious not to look Perry’s way again. Not even when Lars leaves to look around the property. I’m going to wedge distance between us whether I like it or not.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem on board with that plan.
I turn around and almost run right into him.
“Are you okay?”
Him asking me that when he’s the one who’s injured is … well, it’s Perry. “Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I try to walk away, and he hurries to fall into step with me. Still shirtless, way too close, energy wrapping around me in a delicious way that makes me want to give in. Already. Two seconds after I decided to give myself breathing room from him.
“Other than the whole being on the run for my life thing, sure.” I abruptly change my direction to get away from him, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back. Reluctantly, I force myself to meet his eyes, and it pulls a shadow of his goofy grin from him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For getting us into this mess.”
I frown because he sounds like he believes that. “I don’t think you get to take all the blame.”
“Well, if I’d never shot you?—”
“Then someone else would have, and they probably would have done a better job of it.” I should reassure him, but I’m not going to. No more playing into that connection I pathetically want to have with him.
“Maybe.”
I go to walk away again.
“Can you … just …”
“What?”
