Those sharp peaks reformed when his chest visibly filled with breath, and he swayed.
“Dezi?” I asked in alarm, rushing toward him, but Jeremiah beat me to it, grasping Cody’s shoulders to steady him.
Jeremiah eyed him sharply. “Have you been drinking?”
I knew he hadn’t been, and if Jeremiah were thinking clearly, he’d realize that no drunk person could have scaled the gazebo steps like he had. And even if he were drinking… we were in the middle of a Mardi Gras parade in Southern Mississippi. It wouldn’t exactly be a scandal.
“No,” Cody said at the same time I said, “He hasn’t.”
Jeremiah huffed, “Well, you smell like you have.”
Cody glared daggers at him. “Go ahead and sniff me again, dude. See what happens.”
Jeremiah took a step backward when he beheld Cody’s scowl.
Cody narrowed his eyes and then swung his gaze toward me, his expression softening as he took me in. “You’re really okay?”
I smiled tightly. “I am.” Now that I could see him better, I let out a laugh and said, “I do have questions, though.”
He cocked an eyebrow, but the effect was slightly manic, given his pupils were still blown and he’d started twisting his bracelets. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” I smiled in amusement, holding his gaze and taking an unconscious step toward him. “When did you have time to collect so many beads?”
He scoffed. “This ain’t Nola, Ti Bet.”
I hummed in response, his answer raising more questions than it answered, but this was neither the time nor place to ask them.
He took a step forward so that our shoes were touching, and we stayed facing each other like that for a long moment. Then I reached out with my cleaner hand and lightly took his hand that was fiddling with the bracelets. Careful to not draw attention to my scrapes, I pressed my thumb onto the top of his hand. “Are you ready to go back?”
His hazel eyes contracted in something almost like fear before he forced them away from mine and over to life happening outside of the gazebo.
“No.” He took in the scattered medical supplies and Jeremiah, who was presumably still nearby, then added in a whisper, “Don’t really want to stay here either.”
I smoothed my thumb across his hand. “Me either.”
I tugged him toward the stairs, but he halted our progress right as I stepped down onto the first step and ran his gaze over me from head to toe. His demeanor became dark and intenseagain before he dropped my hand and turned back around. He strode up to Jeremiah, who was sitting on the bench and meticulously reorganizing his medical bag with the care one would take defusing a bomb.
Or creating one.
Cody leaned over the bag, glaring at the contents, and clapped Jeremiah on the back before plucking out a few supplies from the bag and pocketing them. He picked up a few more and held them up to Jeremiah. “These?”
Jeremiah’s gaze flitted between the bandages, Cody, and me before he dropped his gaze back down to his bag. He must’ve communicated some sort of affirmative, because Cody nodded before clapping him on the back one more time. “Thanks, dude.”
He returned to my side, took my hand again, grasping it the exact way I’d held his before—loosely, with his thumb pressed on top—and pulled us out of the gazebo and away from the chaos.
The parade had already started, the sounds of the marching band seeming to chase us as we went. We weaved through the crowd, but when it got tighter, Cody’s shoulders tensed, his back muscles rippling through his tight black shirt. Without looking back, he slackened his grip on my hand just enough to slide his fingers up the outside of my hand to my wrist, where he encircled it firmly and doubled his speed through the crowd.
My soul shivered at the touch, so possessive and sure.
He cut us a path down 7th Street and rounded the main drag of businesses, only slowing when we reached the alley that ran behind them. Cody climbed the brick stairs that led to the back entrance of Bay Hall. He tugged my wrist gently, encouraging me to take two more steps in front of him.
“Here is good,” he rumbled, then released me before collapsing onto the hard brick steps. He removed his thick stack of beaded necklaces and reached up to hang them over the tall spike at the beginning of the wrought iron handrail.
I followed suit, perching on the opposite side a step above him, and angled my body toward him.
We sat like that for a while, the building doing a decent job of muffling everything that was happening on the other side.
Cody’s eyes were on me for a long moment before he straightened and lifted his hips, fishing the supplies out of the pocket of his jeans. He examined the crumpled items for a long moment, the creases in his forehead becoming more pronounced as his tense shoulders deflated—but not in a good way. It had the same look of relaxation but was all wrong. It broadcasted defeat.
