16

-Malcolm-

THE RADIOplays softly in the Porsche as I sit with the windows rolled down, watching the doors of the county jail. Behind me on the back seat sits a bulging paper grocery bag containing snacks, candy, a couple of bottles of soda, a fresh set of wrapped clothes, and a takeaway carton holding a burger with all the toppings and a side of fries.

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. I've already been here for half an hour and the food's going to be cold by the time he makes an appearance, but knowing North, that isn't going to put him off.

Eventually, the doors open and North steps out into the sunlight, blinking. He's still wearing the clothes I last saw him in—a deep-green shirt and khakis—but they're in much worse condition than before. They're crumpled, and his shirt is stained with flecks of dried blood. I panic for a moment before I realize it's probably my father's blood, not his.

He appears unscathed, but his face is creased, like he slept face down on a grill all night, and his blond hair is a riotous mess.

He stands just outside the doors, scanning the parking lot, and his blue eyes light up when he sees me, and he smiles. I smile back at him.

But his relief morphs into confusion as he trots over to the car, the pallid sun beating down on his wide shoulders, and leans into the driver's side window.

"Oh my god, you're still here. I was so worried, I thought you'd be—"

I grab the front of his shirt, yank him down toward me through the window, and kiss him hard, digging my other hand into his hair. He smells fusty, like stale sweat, and they obviously haven't let him brush his teeth, but I keep on kissing him like a starving man until I need to stop to breathe.

I let go of him and he blinks like he's been dazzled. "Are you ok?" I ask, my voice coming out urgently.

"I'm, uh, fine," he says, dazed, shaking his head. He goes around to the passenger side and climbs in, closing the door behind him. I cannot explain the relief I feel at having him close to me again. "A bit tired and hungry. And my hands hurt like fuck."

He flexes them in his lap and I look down. They're busted, bruised, and crusted with blood. I think about my father's face, and I can't help but smile. Carefully, I reach down and take his hands in mine, bring them to my mouth and kiss each busted knuckle.

"I'll get you bandaged up at home," I say.

When I look up, his face is flushed a deep pink and he's staring at me like he's seen a ghost.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, it's just . . . that was really . . . sweet," he stammers. "Are you ok?"

It's true, that isn't a gesture I'd normally make, but I'm feeling particularly sentimental right now.

"Don't get used to it," I grunt.

He shakes his head and seems to come back to himself. "What happened? Where's your dad? I was so worried he'd make you leave while I was in there."

I have a lot to tell him, but I don't have the energy to explain everything. I'll get around to that later. Right now, I'm just happy that he's back.

"I'm fine, and he's gone. He won't be bothering us again," I summarize.

North frowns. "How? Why? What happened?"

I take his chin in my hand. His stubble is longer than normal, rough under my fingers. "He fucked with you. And no one fucks with you."

He grins slowly. "Yeah. That's your job."

It's like our minds are linked.

"Exactly." I let go of his jaw. "But the important thing is he's gone. He paid your bail money, he's going to get all charges dropped with his fancy lawyers, and he's going to refinance my Langley tuition."

"How the hell did you convince him to do all that?" North narrows his eyes. "You didn't kill him did you? I don't mind, but I need to prepare myself if I'm going to get involved in covering up a murder."

I laugh and he gives a wicked grin. I have to say, I'm liking this dark side of him.

"So, I hear you gave him a royal beat down?"

North's grin fades. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I know you didn't want me to do anything, and I tried so freaking hard, but . . . I just couldn't."

I have no doubt that my father brought it entirely on himself. Only he would have the ability to make the friendliest guy in Langley swing at him. "What did he do?"

He pulls a face, like he isn't sure he wants to tell me, and I frown. How bad can it be?

"He offered me money to . . . to leave you."

I blink. "Oh."

For some reason it shocks me more than it should. I know he's an asshole, I know he's an abusive jerk, I know all he cares about is himself, but it still stings. North is the only good thing I have in my life, and my father wanted to take him away from me.

North leans back into his seat with a tired sigh. "He asked how much it would take for me to dump you. And I just lost it."

I watch him for a moment. I know money is hard for his family, and my father would have spent any amount to make his problems go away. North could have really helped himself and his folks out with all that cash. Did the thought cross his mind to take the offer, if even for only a split second? I scratch behind my ear.

As if that catches his attention, he looks up and gazes back at me, then says sharply, "Hey, if you're wondering whether I would even consider taking the money, you're going to be in a whole heap of shit."

Can he really read me that easily? I need to work on my poker face, obviously.

I shrug.

"I would never ever do something like that. I'm not going anywhere, not even if someone offers me a mansion in the Hollywood Hills and a lifetime supply of blow jobs. You're more important to me than any money or flashy lifestyle."

"Thanks," I say. And I guess I actually do believe him.

North sighs and flops back into his chair again. For the first time, I notice he's holding a little clear baggy with his phone, wallet, and discreet collar in it. It irks me that they took it off him.

"So now what?" he asks.

"Well, first," I say, "you're going to put your collar back on."

"Yes, sir." He gives me a little eyebrow waggle and tips the bag out into his lap. He wraps the collar around his neck, and I help him fasten it together, skimming my fingers over his skin. Even after a night in the cells it's still warm and smells delicious. Slightly sweaty, slightly musty. I want to lick him.

He powers his phone on as I start the car and the screen fills with a stream of messages and missed calls.

"Geez, are these all from you?" he asks, scrolling through them.

"I was worried," I say.

"About little old me?"

I roll my eyes and pull out of the parking lot slowly. Then I remember the bag of groceries, reach over, and plop it onto his lap. His eyes light up when he sees the takeaway cartons.

"Ooooh, tasties for me?"

"I know how to treat you right."

He opens the carton, grabs the burger out, and stuffs half of it into his mouth. His eyes roll up and he flops his head onto the headrest and groans obscenely. You'd think he hadn't eaten in a week.

"Oh, yes. Fuck me, I love you," he says to the burger, then looks at me and adds around a mouthful of food. "I was talking to the burger by the way."

"Clearly," I say.

He takes another huge mouthful, almost finishing the thing off in two bites.

As I pull out into traffic, a song I like comes on and I turn the radio up. The sunshine warms my face.

"So, what was it like?" I ask.

"Jail?" North grunts around his food.

"Beating up my father."

He pauses, rummaging through the snacks, and grins at me. "So fucking good."

"I have to admit, I'm a little jealous. Although I did get one good hit in before he left." I pop my fist for emphasis.

"You did? Nice." He holds his hand up for a high five and I slap it.

"You know, out of the two of us, I'm really surprised it was you that got arrested for assault. I didn't see that one coming."

"I'm a badass," North laughs.

"You are."

I take my eyes off the road just long enough to kiss him again.