Page 44 of Blood Queen
“I know! It’s barely light yet.”
A wave of relief sweeps through me.
“Mom wanted to make sure you didn’t starve without proper food.” He hefts a bag, shaking his head at the improbability of it all. “I mean, it’s not proper food at all, it’s just snacks, really, but still…”
I tuck the gun into the waistband of my pajama bottoms and grin.
Truman breezes past me straight into the kitchen and begins unloading the goods. When everything is out on the table, he turns to me.
“The gun’s a little much, don’t you think?”
I give him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
“Were you scared, alone last night?”
I shake my head. “Not really. Just didn’t know who was coming. Better safe than sorry right?” I set the gun on the table.
Truman shrugs then wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here.”
His arms feel just right holding me. I relax into them slightly as he rubs my back.
Truman wants to make a plan.
To go to the FBI.
Tell them who I am .
“The day he died, that was the day you had to stop looking to him for any answers. You’ve gotta figure it out for yourself now,” he says.
“He wouldn’t want that. He said as much in his letter.”
“He’s not the boss anymore.”
I glare at him. “Don’t talk about him like that to me.”
Truman throws his hands up in surrender.
“Sorry,” he says.
We’re lying on the living room floor when it happens. We’re talking. Truman’s telling me that in a month he leaves for college. That he was excited to go—couldn’t wait, but now the idea of leaving me alone here, makes him upset.
“Come with me,” he says.
I roll my head to the side to look at him. “What?”
“Get on the bus with me. Come to South Carolina. We can make a stop in North Carolina too, see if we can meet with that journalist, Marcy.”
“I can’t just come with you. Where would I live? What would I do?”
But the thought ignites a deep curiosity in my belly. See more of this world. Experience anything besides this cabin in the clearing and this tiny town.
Truman props himself up on an elbow and stares at me. His gaze feels charged and oppressing.
“I have a single. That means no roommate. I can sneak you in. You can stay with me.”
He pushes an escaped strand of my wavy hair out of my face. I suck in a sharp breath. He leans in, slowly, until his mouth is inches from mine.
Truman freezes, his eyes searching mine for the permission he already knows I’m going to give. We lean into each other until our lips touch. My head spins in the way I imagine what falling feels like—floating and tumbling all at the same time. Just the way it reads in one of my books.
